Отрывок из книги
www.millsandboon.co.uk
This novel would have never come to fruition had it not been for the love and unconditional support of my family.
.....
L. J. Saunders wasn’t a mechanic, not even car literate, but he didn’t feel right driving by the marooned motorist. What if the driver had engine trouble? Or was in need of medical assistance? The charring heat of the sun and the balmy wind made the temperature feel much higher than its seventy-five degrees and with traffic backed up for miles, the motorist could end up waiting for hours before help arrived. L.J. didn’t bother turning on the indicator light; it was broken, along with a host of other things on this banged-up truck. Cars whizzed by as he maneuvered into the far right lane, pulled up behind the stopped vehicle and threw his truck in Park.
Autumn was punching in the 1-800 number for roadside assistance when the crunch of tires on gravel reached her ears. She peeped out the back window just in time to see a dark-skinned man step down from a dilapidated truck. The battered vehicle looked as though it had been submerged in a pool of mud. The color and make were unrecognizable, and although Autumn tried, she couldn’t decipher a single license-plate number. The stranger wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap, a soiled white T-shirt and equally filthy nylon shorts. He had a slightly crooked nose, which added to his mysterious aura, a faint moustache and a powerfully built body. He had the well-muscled shoulders and defined legs of a track star.
.....
