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HER SON IS NEXT
Someone is trying to take everything from widowed mother Fiona Fitzgerald Cobb. Their method? Fires, like the one that left her little boy fatherless—and destroyed Fiona’s dreams—two years earlier. Could the attacks be linked? Fitzgerald Bay firefighter Hunter Reece vows to keep Fiona and her son safe. He wasn’t able to save her husband—his best friend. This time, he won’t let Fiona down. Especially since the handsome man she’s known all her life has a secret…one that will make him risk everything to save her.
Fitzgerald Bay:
Law enforcement siblings fight for justice and family.
STEPHANIE NEWTON
penned her first suspense story—complete with illustrations—at the age of twelve, but didn’t write seriously until her youngest child was in first grade. She lives in northwest Florida, where she gains inspiration from the sugar-white sand, aqua-blue-green water of the Gulf of Mexico, and the many unusual and interesting things you see when you live on the beach. You can find her most often enjoying the water with her family, or at their church, where her husband is the pastor. Visit Stephanie at her website, www.stephanienewton.net, or send an email to [email protected].
The Widow’s
Protector
Stephanie Newton
MILLS & BOON
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You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind
is steadfast, because he trusts in You.
—Isaiah 26:3
For Ilise—encourager, brainstorm partner, friend
A special thanks to my friends,
Becki Reeder and Joe Reeder, Firefighter/EMT with Bay County Fire Rescue who are
so generous with their time and expertise.
As usual, Joe tells it like it is and then
I make up stuff that goes along with my story.
It was great fun working on this project
with authors Shirlee McCoy, Valerie Hansen, Rachelle McCalla, Lynette Eason and
Terri Reed. A special thanks goes to our editor, Emily Rodmell, who had the unenviable task
of keeping us all in line!
Special thanks and acknowledgment to
Stephanie Newton for her contribution
to the Fitzgerald Bay miniseries.
Contents
ONE
Fiona Cobb sliced open a box of books in the storage room of The Reading Nook. This was the last box, and by the clock on the wall, she had exactly twelve minutes before she had to leave to get her son to school.
Thankfully, Betsie, who owned the Sweet Shoppe two doors down, had stopped by half an hour ago to see if Sean wanted to taste test her new cinnamon rolls. Her son had bounced out of the storeroom after Betsie with a constant stream of conversation, their two dark heads nearly touching as he pulled Betsie close for a six-year-old secret. Quite the lady’s man, her Sean. Fiona shuddered as she imagined what life would be like at sixteen.
Ah, well, with four brothers—three of them cops—and a passel of cousins who were firefighters, she had plenty of experience with alpha males.
Fiona loaded her arms with the stack of books on gardening in preparation for the Happy Diggers Club meeting. In April in Fitzgerald Bay, everyone’s mind would be turning to spring flowers, even if they were still buttoning up their winter coats in the early morning hours.
In fact, someone nearby must be burning a fire this morning to take the chill off. She carried the books to the round display table near the front window. The Happy Diggers tended to be early and she wanted them to have plenty of books to browse through…and buy on their way out.
She glanced at her watch. Betsie had saved her skin again. Five minutes until she had to pick up Sean to walk him to school. Maybe enough time for one more stack of books?
If possible, the smell was even stronger back here in the storeroom. Most people loved a fire, but for Fee, a burning fire wasn’t cheerful and the aroma of smoke wasn’t reassuring. All it did was remind her of what she’d lost. A husband, Sean’s daddy, a happy united family.
She looked up. A curl of smoke came through the vent in the ceiling. For a few seconds, she stared at it, frozen.
Smoke in the vent meant fire—not the warm your hands kind of fire, but real life-stealing fire.
Fiona grabbed her cell phone, pressing the numbers 9-1-1. She ran out the back door, looking both ways down the back alley. Smoke poured through the seams of the building over the Sweet Shoppe. She ran down the alley, toward the back door. Oh, dear God, please, not again. Please.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Fire.