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eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: A pregnant widow rebuilding her life. A shattered man rebuilding his own. Mountains of debt and unforgettable pasts don't provide a recipe for romance. But Michael Ripley and Angie Detmer can't resist more than friendship, despite having nothing to offer. Michael works as an exotic dancer for an upscale male dance review to pay the mountain of medical bills his deceased wife left behind. Angie lost her husband, business, and home, and is building a new life. Independence is everything to her. Can they pull themselves far enough from the depths of despair to grab their Second Chance at Forever?

eBook Publisher: Echelon Press, Published: 2001, 2001
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2005

31 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [240 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [222 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [205 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.3 MB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [230 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [190 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [248 KB] , hiebook (KML) [562 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [287 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [190 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [237 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [271 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [299 KB]
Words: 70701
Reading time: 202-282 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Angie Detmer had known her recovery from the depths of despair would be a difficult one. She'd assumed, however, that the stumbling block would be something a bit more challenging than a double mattress.

She puffed and groaned her way backward up the stairs, dragging the floppy mattress one step at a time. Every fourth step or so she cursed Jazmine for not telling her the apartment was on the third floor, and herself for never asking.

Of course, at the time, she hadn't much cared where the apartment was. She still didn't care, except that she had no one to help her move in. Jazz was out of town. Her other old friends, the Bedrosians, had given her a job, so she wouldn't ask them to give her manual labor, too. Besides, they had to run the shop. And she knew no one else in D.C.

Loneliness would have overwhelmed her if she hadn't already been steeped in it. She paused at the second floor landing and dragged her arm across her forehead, wishing she had something to drink.

As if on cue, the two apartment doors on the second floor opened, and twin little old ladies stepped out. One carried a tray bearing a pitcher of lemonade, complete with fresh lemon slices, and a glass. The other carried a plate of chocolate chip cookies. They wore matching housecoats, one with flowers, and the other with stripes. Each one beamed at her from beneath a full head of snowy hair.

"Hello, dear," the one with the lemonade said. "Flossie and I thought you might like a snack."

"Yes, it's awfully hot today," Flossie added. "Myrtle and I don't want you to overdo."

Grateful for the excuse to take a break, Angie leaned the mattress against the wall and dusted her hands on her jeans.

"Thank you," she said, stepping forward and lifting a full glass off the tray. Aware of the ladies' watchful stares, she took a tentative sip. The beverage was tart and sweet but not too much of either. Her taste buds had been sleeping for the past few months, but the lemonade tasted like ambrosia. Suddenly aware of her thirst, she gulped it down. Flossie giggled.

"Wonderful! Here, dear, take a cookie." She offered the tray. The cookies were melt-in-your-mouth perfect. Angie ate two, noting how physical activity revved the appetite.

"Thanks, ladies. I need to keep moving if I'm going to get this done before dark." She renewed her grip on the mattress, then paused. "How rude of me." She dropped the mattress again. "I'm Angie Detmer. I guess I got so focused on my task that I didn't think." She held her hands awkwardly, aware of the film of dust on them. The ladies beamed brighter.

"Oh, we know who you are, dear," Flossie said. Myrtle nodded.

"Yes, Jazmine told us so much about you. Welcome to the building."

"Thank you." She tilted her head, wondering exactly how much Jazz had told them. Had she mentioned Todd's death, and the will? Or the mistresses that made the will moot? No, she decided. Flossie and Myrtle still beamed at her, without a hint of pity or disdain. She smiled, glad to have a clean slate with her new neighbors.

"I'm glad to be here." She stood for a moment, torn between social pleasantries and the work ahead of her. Myrtle seemed to sense her dilemma and moved toward her own doorway.

"We won't keep you, dear. Do come visit when you're settled."

"I will," Angie assured her, then bent to grab the corner of the mattress again.

But Flossie frowned. "Don't you have someone to help you? Those seem awfully heavy."

Angie shook her head and began pulling. "I don't need help, thanks." She wiggled the bulky mattress around the corner, only half-aware of the women whispering about someone named Michael. Their tone was vaguely appalled, even fearful. She paused again, about to see if she could help, but heard both apartment doors close before she could maneuver past the mattress.

Finally she got the darned thing into the bedroom and let it fall onto the floor. She barely stopped herself from dropping with it. She couldn't afford to rest. She still had half a U-Haul to unload.

She was plodding down the stairs when it happened. A flare of light penetrated the haze she'd looked through since her husband's death. The front door, which she'd propped open as best she could, opened wider. The rest of the world remained dim, colorless. But the fog seemed to melt around the man who stepped into the hallway.

Angie stopped on the second step from the bottom and blinked. Then blinked again. Nothing changed. The man hadn't noticed her yet. His keys chattered as he unlocked the door of the first floor apartment. His t-shirt should have seemed faded, stretched as it was across yard-wide shoulders and straining around baseball biceps. But the royal blue glowed, contrasting with the inky black bike shorts sprayed onto his thighs. Her gaze strayed to muscles spandex didn't hide. Sweat darkened the material in interesting places.

Then she realized she could see those places because he'd turned toward her. Her eyes shot to his face but skimmed as they passed. She barely had time to register Wow before his emerald eyes pierced her.