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Safe Haven. Hannah AlexanderЧитать онлайн.
HANNAH ALEXANDER’S NOVELS
“The plot is interesting and the resolution filled with action.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Fair Warning
“Reminiscent of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones, this intelligent mystery will keep readers engrossed.”
—Library Journal on Last Resort
“Hannah Alexander’s unique ability to combine suspense with romance and faith will have you searching for this author’s entire backlist. Grab [her] titles while you can and visit this wonderful town called Hideaway—you’ll never want to leave! Each book is top-notch suspense, with just a touch of romance. Last Resort is a must-buy…guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat until you turn the final page!”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Alexander’s skill at meshing spiritual truths with fascinating suspense is captivating. Well-drawn characters help the two separate plots move rapidly toward an exciting conclusion.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Safe Haven
“Hannah Alexander is one of the few authors who has the unique ability to bring tears to your eyes and God’s touch to your heart. Safe Haven is suspense, romance and first-rate entertainment all bound into one neat book.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Genuine humor…an interesting cast of characters…a few surprises.”
—Publishers Weekly on Hideaway
“Hideaway is gripping and romantic. It may also have crossover appeal to fans of medical suspense and of such authors as Tess Gerritsen.”
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.”
A Hideaway Novel
For many years Lorene Cook, Cheryl’s mom, has been an active participant with us as we work with our books. Mom, you’ve been a lifesaver!
Thanks to Vera Overall, Mel’s mother, for her love and encouragement.
Thanks to our longtime friends and encouragers Jack and Marty Frost, Barbara Warren, Jackie Bolton, Ron and Janet Benrey, Doug and Brenda Minton, and Lori Copeland.
Many thanks to our wonderful editor, Joan Marlow Golan, and her excellent staff at Steeple Hill Books.
Thanks to our friends who helped brainstorm this book—Nancy Moser, Annie Jones, Deborah Raney, Stephanie Whitson and Colleen and Dave Coble.
Blessings to our talented and beautiful Branson celebrities: Stacy and April Frerking and their parents, Dennis and Bonnie Frerking.
Questions for Discussion
Fawn Morrison glided across the atrium of the crowded country-music theater, enjoying the glances aimed in her direction. So what if the stares weren’t all filled with admiration? Those jealous women could learn to apply makeup the right way and emphasize their few positive qualities. Everybody had at least one or two. Almost everybody.
With a grin and a wink at the old geezer who stood behind the ticket counter, Fawn eased herself past a group of chattering people and strolled toward the ATM machine in the corner.
Some of these people probably thought she was one of the entertainers in the production—she’d never looked better in her life. She wore a calf-length gown of blue silk that Bruce had selected, telling her it matched the color of her eyes. The plunging neckline raised a few eyebrows, and the thigh-high slit had almost caused an accident out in the parking lot. She sure wasn’t in Las Vegas anymore. Branson, Missouri, seemed like a different planet. Hokey, maybe, but she kind of liked this place.
As she waited for the cash to click out of the machine, Fawn enjoyed the sight of her reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked hot. Sophisticated and grown-up. She’d come a long way in eight months—from earning money the hardest way, to flouncing through the casino in her cutesy little monkey outfit, smiling and calling “Keno, Keno, Keno” like a brain-injured parrot, to riding in limousines and living in luxury, eating lobster and drinking champagne.
All because she didn’t mind a balding man with a paunch, and pockmarks on his face.
Okay, sure he’d been acting a little wacky the past couple of days, but what did that matter? He could afford to act wacky. Besides, he knew how to treat a lady—if the lady didn’t expect him to open doors for her and if she didn’t mind a burp or two during the dinner conversation.
She used the entry card and stepped into the elevator reserved for special guests, then rode up to the seventh-floor penthouse suite—Branson didn’t have skyscrapers like Vegas. It didn’t have casinos, either, and smoke didn’t hang in the air like a cloud of poison.
Bruce was talking on his cell phone when she glided through the door. She allowed it to close with a muted clunk, and he glanced around at her. She smiled as she slid the thin spaghetti strap of her blue beaded purse from her shoulder and placed it on the counter by the minibar.
His gaze darted away and his fingers whitened on the tiny phone. “No, Vin, I told you what I’d do if you didn’t stop the purchase.”
Fawn sighed as Bruce paced to the other end of the carpeted great room. Okay, so he didn’t seem as distracted by her hot looks as the old geezer at the counter downstairs.