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ANNIE O’NEIL spent most of her childhood with a leg draped over the family rocking chair and a book in her hand. Novels, baking, and writing too much teenage angst poetry ate up most of her youth. Now, quite a few years on from those fevered daydreams of being a poet, Annie splits her time between corralling her husband (and real-life Scottish hero) into helping her with their cows or scratching the backs of their rare breed pigs, and spending some very happy hours at her computer, writing. Find out more about Annie at her website: www.annieoneilbooks.com
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“Sorry, I didn’t mean to look so disgusted! I mean, no—not disgusted.” He waved away the choice of words as if the gesture would erase them. “It’s not that you repel me or anything—”
“I think you’d better quit while you’re ahead!” Liesel laughed, wiping away invisible tears from her eyes. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder toward the growing hubbub of children. “I had better go.”
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