Praise for Brenda Novak
“Brenda Novak spins a taut, spine-tingling story with imagery so vivid it leaves you breathless.”
—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan on Every Waking Moment
“Once again author Brenda Novak delivers a stunningly magical performance.”
—WordWeaving on A Family of Her Own
“A one-sitting read! Kudos to Brenda Novak for an insightful and emotional story that tore at my heartstrings!”
—The Best Reviews on A Baby of Her Own
“Novak’s story is richly dramatic, with a stark setting that distinguishes it nicely from the lusher worlds of older romances.”
—Publishers Weekly on Taking the Heat
“Brenda Novak always writes a wonderful story, whether it’s her Superromances or her single-title books. I know when I pick up something she’s written, I’ll be totally satisfied.”
—Allyn Pogue, Old Book Barn Gazette
“This story should appeal to readers who like their romances with a sophisticated touch.”
—Library Journal on Snow Baby
A Home of Her Own “kept me on the edge of my seat, Kleenex in hand, totally enthralled to the last page. This is a forget-about-dinner-just order-a-pizza kind of read.”
—Romantic Times
Dear Reader,
When I set out to write this story, I was contemplating the measure of a man. Do we value people for how they look, what they can do—or who they really are? In the beginning, the hero of this book measured his self-worth by what he could accomplish. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with that. He had it all and could do almost anything. Then he lost certain physical abilities. He had to dig deep to find his purpose in life, and I think he turned out to be a better man for it.
I enjoyed getting to know these characters, especially Gabe because I came to admire him so much. At this point, you’re probably chuckling. You’re thinking I created him and could make him as heroic as I wanted. But that’s only partially true. Sure, I’m the one who’s written his story, but he strongly objected whenever I took a wrong turn. Seems there’s no forcing Gabriel Holbrook.
By the time you finish Stranger in Town, I hope you think Hannah is as lucky as I do.
I love to hear from readers. Please drop by my Web site at www.brendanovak.com, enter my quarterly draw to win a $500 shopping spree at the store of your choice, see how I’m doing with my goal to raise as much money as possible for juvenile diabetes and send me an e-mail to let me know you took the time to visit all the characters in Dundee.
Here’s to overcoming whatever fate throws our way!
Brenda Novak
Brenda Novak
Stranger in Town
To my sister Pam, who wouldn’t hesitate to take on the whole world for the people she loves. Pam, I admire your forgiving, courageous heart, your unfailing loyalty, your generosity, your incredible artistic talent and your lovely face. Thanks for remaining in my corner, always. I love you.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PROLOGUE
THE ROAD WAS COVERED with black ice. Leaning forward, Hannah Price focused intently on the strip of narrow highway beyond her beating windshield wipers. But the dark countryside and the whirling snow made it difficult to see. Gripping the steering wheel until the stark white of her knuckles glowed in the light of her instrument panel, she took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.
They can’t be far. I’ll find them.
The thought of her two sons being whisked away without her permission had pumped her body so full of adrenaline she barely blinked when her tires slid around the next curve. The back end of her minivan swung onto the shoulder and almost hit the guardrail separating the road from a steep drop. But she quickly gained control and, fixing a picture of Brent and Kenny in her mind, increased her speed. According to her neighbor, Mr. McDermott, her ex-husband had less than a five-minute jump on her. She could make that up if she hurried.
Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’… Christmas music played on the radio, but she wasn’t paying much attention. She was too focused. She’d find Russ. She had to. According to Mr. McDermott, Russ had loaded his Jeep with beer and had obviously been drinking already. Her neighbor had also mentioned that Russ had two carloads of his survivalist buddies following him. No doubt they’d have a grand time at the cabin, getting drunk and shooting at anything that moved. It wasn’t safe for the boys. Brent and Kenny were to remain with her for the holidays; it was all laid out in the custody papers.
…A beautiful sight…We’re happy tonight…
The most perilous part of the journey between Dundee, her small hometown, and Boise was coming up fast. She managed to navigate the first of the hairpin turns without sliding all over the road, but then came up behind a pickup that was barely moving.
With a curse, she slowed to a crawl. At this rate, Russ would cross into Oregon before she could reach Boise. If that happened, her boys would be lost to her until her ex decided he didn’t want the responsibility of caring for them anymore and deigned to bring them home. Provided they survived until then.
She needed to get them back now, where she knew they’d be safe. Before there was another incident like last year, when one of Russ’s redneck friends had held a knife to Kenny’s throat.
…He sings a love song, as we go along, walking in a winter wonderland.
The lyrics mocked her anxiety as she glanced hesitantly at the double yellow lines in the middle of the dark, shiny road. Veering into the other lane, she hoped for a chance to get around the truck. But it wasn’t possible. The turns were too tight.
The disc jockey came on to say the next song was believed to be Welsh in origin and came from a tune called “Nos Galan” dating back to the sixteenth century.
Deck the halls with boughs of holly…
Panic prickled Hannah’s scalp as she remained trapped behind the slow-moving truck. She felt the seconds tick by, imagined Russ taking the boys farther and farther away from her with every passing minute.
…’Tis the season to be jolly…
Russ insisted the knife incident had been a joke. But Hannah didn’t find it funny, and Kenny hadn’t laughed about it, either. The only joke, to Hannah, was that she’d ever been stupid enough to marry Russ in the first place. If her mother hadn’t died when she was just out of high school, leaving