LITMIR.BIZ

       www.mirabooks.co.uk

      This book is dedicated to every person

       who has answered the call of going home.

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Stephanie Bond was raised on a farm

       in eastern Kentucky where books—

      mostly romance novels—were her number one

       form of entertainment, which she credits with

       instilling in her “the rhythm of storytelling.”

       Years later she answered the call back to books

       to create her own stories. She sold her first

       manuscript in 1995 and soon left her corporate

       programming job to write fiction full-time.

       Today Stephanie has over fifty titles to

       her name, and lives in midtown Atlanta.

       Visit www.stephaniebond.com for more information

       about the author and her books.

      Contents

      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

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      1

      “We’re way behind schedule,” Marcus Armstrong announced.

      “That’s ridiculous,” Porter Armstrong said, smacking his hand on the desk between them. “We’re way ahead of schedule!”

      Kendall Armstrong looked back and forth between his older brother and his younger brother and gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to jump in, like always, to mediate between his stubborn siblings. Serious-minded Marcus had a tendency to be overly cautious, and the more reckless Porter had a predisposition for leaping before he looked—literally. His younger brother had only recently rid himself of the casts on his broken leg and broken arm that had kept him hobbled for the whole summer and most of the fall. With the holidays behind them and a new year begun, everyone was feeling the pressure of the one year plus change that remained on the federal deadline to prove their green experiment of rebuilding the mountain town of Sweetness, Georgia, would work. The brothers had started from nothing—worse than nothing, really. Ten years ago an F5 tornado had flattened their small hometown, sparing human life, but obliterating businesses and homes. The devastation had been the death knell for the tiny town already dwindling in population and economic prosperity. The town council had elected not to reorganize; residents had relocated. When the Armstrongs had arrived a year ago, the roads into Sweetness were choked and overgrown, the land consumed with kudzu vines and littered remains of buildings, vehicles and trees shorn by the twister. Wild animals roamed freely among the rubble. It was as if the outside world had forgotten about Sweetness.

      Now, including the two hundred and fifty or so workers the men employed, the hundred or so women who’d come en masse from Broadway, Michigan, in response to an ad the brothers had placed in a local newspaper, looking for women who wanted a fresh start, their children and miscellaneous relatives who had since followed, and various professionals and trade experts who’d come to help them shape the town, the population of Sweetness had grown to— Kendall turned his head to look at the latest number written on the chalkboard by the door—536. “Ahead of schedule?” Marcus said to Porter. “What calendar are you looking at?”

      “The same one you’re looking at,” Porter said, jerking his thumb toward the giant calendar that papered the walls of the office.

      “Oh, yeah?”

      “Yeah!”

      They suddenly stopped and looked over at Kendall, who sat in a chair across the room.

      “Aren’t you going to weigh in?” Marcus asked.

      “You’re just going to sit there?” Porter said.

      Kendall pursed his mouth and nodded. “That’s right.” He scooted his seat back against the wall, then made a rolling motion with his hands. “Go ahead, have at each other. Settle this like real men. Porter hasn’t been in a cast for a while.”

      Marcus frowned. “You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

      Porter scowled. “Yeah, it doesn’t suit you, brother.”

      Anger sparked in Kendall’s stomach, sending him to his feet. “Really? Because it feels pretty damn good! I’m tired of constantly trying to wrestle you both back to middle ground. You’re wearing me out. I have half a mind to leave this place and never come back!”

      He stopped, surprised but relieved that he’d voiced the thought that had been hovering in the back of

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