LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter One

      Julia Morgan lit the final match, determined to destroy the letter clenched in her fingers. She was well aware of the mistakes she’d made in her life, but seeing them typed on fancy letterhead was more than she could take at the moment. She drew the flickering flame toward the paper but another gust of damp wind blew it out.

      The mountains surrounding her hometown of Brevia, North Carolina, were notoriously wet in late winter. Even though it hadn’t rained for several days, moisture clung to the frigid March air this afternoon, producing a cold she felt right to her bones.

      With a frustrated groan, she crumpled the letter into a tiny ball. Add the inability to burn a single piece of paper to her colossal list of failures. Sinking to her knees on the soggy ground, she dropped the used matchstick into a trash bag with all the others.

      She ignored the wail of a siren from the highway above her. She’d pulled off the road minutes earlier and climbed down the steep embankment, needing a moment to stop the panic welling inside her.

      For a few seconds she focused her attention on the canopy of pine trees below the ridge where she stood, her heartbeat settling to a normal rhythm.

      Since she’d returned to her hometown almost two years ago, this love of the forest had surprised her. She’d never been a nature girl, her gypsy existence taking her from one big city to another. Thanks to her beautiful son, Julia was now rooted in Brevia, and the dense woods that enveloped the town gave her the sense of peace she hadn’t known she’d missed for years.

      The makeshift fire hadn’t been much of a plan, but flying by the seat of her pants was nothing new for Julia. With a deep breath, she smoothed the wrinkled letter against the grass. She’d read it compulsively over the past week until the urge to destroy it had overtaken her. She knew the words by heart but needed the satisfaction of watching them go up in flames.

      Unfit mother. Seeking custody. Better options.

      Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Burning the letter wouldn’t change the potential it had to ruin her life. She’d tried to dismiss the contents as lies and conjecture. In a corner of her heart, she worried they were true and she wouldn’t be able to defend herself against them.

      Suddenly she was hauled to her feet. “Are you hurt? What happened?” A pair of large hands ran along her bare arms, then down her waist toward...

      Whoa, there. “Back off, Andy Griffith,” Julia sputtered as parts of her body she thought were in permanent hibernation sprang to life.

      As if realizing how tightly he held her, Sam Callahan, Brevia’s police chief, pushed away. He stalked several yards up the hill toward the road, then turned and came at her again. Muscles bunched under the shoulders of his police uniform.

      She had to work hard to ignore the quick pull of awareness that pulsed through her. Darn good thing Julia had sworn off men. Even better that big, strong alpha men were so not her type.

      Julia gave herself a mental headshake. “What do you want, Sam? I’m sort of busy here.”

      She could have sworn his eye twitched under his aviator sunglasses. He jabbed one arm toward the top of the hill. “What I want is to know what the hell you’re doing off the side of the road. Again.”

      Right. She’d forgotten that the last time Sam had found her, she’d been eight months pregnant and had wrapped her ancient Honda around a tree trunk. He’d taken her to the hospital where her son, Charlie, had been born.

      That day a year and a half ago had been the start of a new life for her. One she’d protect at any cost.

      Sam had been new to Brevia and the role of police chief then. He’d also been a whole lot nicer. At least, to Julia. He’d made the rounds of the single ladies in town, but ever since Charlie’s birth Sam had avoided her as though he thought he might be the first man in history to catch a pregnancy. Which was fine, especially given some of the details she’d heard about his history with women.

      “Julia.”

      At the sound of her name, she focused on his words.

      “There are skid marks where your car pulled off.”

      “I was in a hurry,” she said and swiped at her still-moist cheeks.

      His hands bunched at his sides as he eyed her bag. “Do

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