Monday, April 6, 2015

Magnolia Moon by JoAnn Ross

The Callahan Brothers #3

Regan gets a visit from Nate in LA. He is telling her that she is entitled to some bearer bonds that her mother had left behind for her. Apparently, when Regan was two, her mother died. The coroner said it was suicide but Nate's dad had filed it as a cold case. Regan is a LA homicide cop. She wants to investigate and find out what happened. She did not remember her time in Blue Bayou, LA. Her mother was another woman who died a few years back from cancer.
Nate starts falling for her which is surprising because he is a playboy. Regan starts liking him once they start spending time together. Will Regan find out the truth and get her man?

From the author:
L.A. homicide detective Regan Hart's life is turned upside down with the discovery that she was adopted. Following a trail left in her birth mother's journal, she lands in Louisiana's Blue Bayou, where she's determined not to let Nate Callahan, the town's handsome, sweet-talking mayor, distract her from her search.

Nate Callahan loves women - and they've always loved him right back. No-nonsense Regan couldn't be more different from his usual type, but as they spend time together, unlocking the puzzles of Regan's past, neither can deny the attraction sizzling between them - and both come to realize that family bonds are forged not through blood ties, but through choices of the heart.



Excerpt:
Chapter One

"If you're calling Finn to find out why I'm here, he won't be able to tell you.          Because he doesn't know." 

Regan folded her arms across the front of her black silk blouse, angled her head,
and narrowed her eyes. "Why not?"


"Because I didn't want to bother him with details."

Details. She already had so many damn details to deal with, she felt as if she was being nibbled to death by killer ducks. "Look, if your car got towed and you need help getting it out of impound, you're out of luck, because we don't do that here. Nor do I fix speeding tickets. If you want me to arrest someone, unless you're talking about a murder, I don't have the time to get involved, but you're free to file a complaint with the desk sergeant." 





She picked up a heavy blue binder. The murder book contained everything she'd gathered during the course of her investigation, and she'd spent the few hours between last night's bust and this morning memorizing pertinent facts for today's court testimony.

He tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, rocked back on his heels, and appeared to contemplate the matter. Regan had participated in countless interrogations over the years, and had learned from some of the best cops in the business, but she'd never met anyone who could draw a pause out so long.

"My car's back home," he said finally. "I don' know anyone who's been murdered, at least not lately, and except for the street crew that spent last night jackhammering through the pavement outside my hotel room window, I don't really have any complaints."

His slow, easy smile was a contrast to the thoughtful look he skimmed over her face. Even knowing that after all the surgeries she'd undergone, her facial scars were more imagined than real, she was still discomforted by such silent scrutiny. Especially from a man whose own face could have washed off a cathedral ceiling.

"As for why I came, well, it's a long story."

"Then you're really out of luck. Because I have to be in court in thirty"--she glanced down at her watch "make that twenty-five minutes. And counting."

"That's okay. I'll ride along with you, and we can talk on the way."

"The LAPD police force is not a taxi service. And even if I were willing to allow a civilian to tag along, which I'm not, there wouldn't be any conversation, because I'll be going over the details of my testimony on the way."

"Finn's a stickler for details, too." The nicks and scars on the hand he skimmed over his hair seemed at odds with his pretty face. "We can talk over lunch."

"I wasn't planning to eat lunch." She'd be lucky to score a candy bar from the courthouse vending machine. "So, why don't we just cut to the chase, and you can tell me what you're doing here."

"Like I said, it's a long story. And personal."

"I don't want to offend you, Mr. Callahan, but unless you've committed homicide, I'm not terribly interested in your personal life."

"Not mine, chère. Yours."

Regan would have sworn there was no longer anything that could surprise her. She would have been wrong.

"It won't take very long," he coaxed when she didn't immediately respond. "If I wanted to dump it on you without any explanation, I would have used the mail and not bothered flying all this way. So, since my flight back home doesn't leave until this evening, how about I jus' come to the courthouse and we can talk after you wrap up your testimony."

His voice might be as smooth as whiskey sauce over a rich bread pudding, but she refused to be charmed. "They don't have phones in Louisiana?"


Read more here.

Pages: 384
Published: 2003

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