12,99 €
inkl. MwSt.

Versandfertig in über 4 Wochen
  • Broschiertes Buch

A coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous. Buying the 1920s farmhouse south of Phoenix, where the rumors of John Dillinger's gang hid out in the 30s, is supposed to be Grace Evanheart's way of escaping an old romance. When she finds an ancient diary with a map under the bedroom's floorboard, the rumors solidify into fact. She doesn't know who to trust with the news; Micah Stevens, the handsome deputy and the great-grandson of the original landowners with whom she's attracted, or Jerry, the young historian who seems too intent on learning about her new home. Micah seems convinced their…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
A coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous. Buying the 1920s farmhouse south of Phoenix, where the rumors of John Dillinger's gang hid out in the 30s, is supposed to be Grace Evanheart's way of escaping an old romance. When she finds an ancient diary with a map under the bedroom's floorboard, the rumors solidify into fact. She doesn't know who to trust with the news; Micah Stevens, the handsome deputy and the great-grandson of the original landowners with whom she's attracted, or Jerry, the young historian who seems too intent on learning about her new home. Micah seems convinced their paths cross exactly at the right time and in the right place for them to fall in love. Now he just has to convince Grace of the same thing before suspicions of his real motive have her running again.
Autorenporträt
While growing up, going to libraries felt like an adventure filled with mystery and wonder to Debra. The hushed tones invoked secrets, and the dusty, sometimes moldy, smell of paper was the same in each city she lived. Leaving the library with just a single book never happened. Years later, her love of reading turned to a passion for writing stories others might enjoy. She's an award winning fine artist who lives in a southwest Arizona city with her husband, a retired police lieutenant, where the average summer temperatures are well above 100 degrees--truly hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk.