Excerpt: 'The Marriage Charm' by Linda Lael Miller

HEA shares an excerpt from The Marriage Charm (out today!) by Linda Lael Miller. Linda gives us a little insight about the scene and the book ...

Linda: As you may guess from reading this scene from my new book, The Marriage Charm, I like to write about strong, take-charge types, men who are comfortable in their own skin, know what they want and have the courage and energy to go after it. Tate Calder is certainly one of my signature heroes: direct, capable of long-term emotional commitment (with the right woman, of course), honorable, intelligent, graced with a sense of humor, preferably wry and cowboy-tough. Of course Tate has a sensitive side — he's a great father and he loves animals. As a widower, he's no stranger to sorrow, so he can empathize; at the same time, though, he is unquestionably, unapologetically male. In other words, he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, so it might take our equally wonderful heroine, Becca "Bex" Stuart, a little while to see beyond that ruggedly handsome alpha exterior of his.

Bex is a person one can admire and respect; independent almost to a fault, she's built a successful business, overcome a heartache or two of her own along the way, and she's a rock-solid friend to her two BFFs, Hadleigh Galloway and Melody Hogan. She glories in being a woman and wants a family of her own, but she's not willing to settle, just to avoid being alone. Bex wants it all: true, lasting love, great sex, a bit of adventure and someone to laugh with.

Bex entered into a marriage pact with Hadleigh and Melody a while back, and the magic has already happened twice, so maybe it's her turn.

Maybe, just maybe, the third time really is the charm!

Here's the blurb about The Marriage Charm (courtesy of HQN Books):

The women of Bliss County have a pact—to find husbands. The right husbands.

One already has: Hadleigh Stevens, who married rancher Tripp Galloway a few months ago. Now Melody Nolan thinks it's her turn. Melody has recently found success as a jewelry designer, and her work is the focus of her life. She's not exactly unhappy, but she wants more. She's always been attracted to Spence Hogan, the local chief of police, but she's convinced that Spence, a notorious charmer, isn't what you'd call husband material.

Spence is a good cop who isn't scared of anything—except love. And he's done everything he can to preserve his reputation as a womanizer—a reputation that keeps marriage-minded women, including Melody, at bay. And yet…there's something about Melody he can't forget. Something his heart can't ignore.

EXCERPT

Melody was beginning to feel like a real wallflower, which was a stretch, considering how often she'd been invited to dance since she and Bex had arrived an hour or so before. After a few polite refusals, the invitations had stopped coming, and that had been okay with her and with her screaming feet.

She'd had, as her grandfather liked to say, all the fun she could stand.

Time to vamoose.

The waitress had been running a tab, and Melody wanted to pay her share, so she elbowed her way through to the cash register at the far end of the bar, searching her little yellow purse—part of the bridesmaids' outfit—for her credit card.

She settled up and then limped toward the door, propped open to admit the summer breezes, and scanned the demolition derby in the parking lot for her car.

It was blocked in on all sides.

"Oh, hell," she muttered, faced with two equally unappealing choices--go back inside the Moose Jaw, hunt down a couple of the owners and convince them to move their vehicles…or walk home.

"Is there a problem?" The voice, all too familiar, took her off guard.

She turned her head and, sure enough, Spence was standing there, watching her, his face in shadow and his expression therefore unreadable. Was that a grin just barely tugging at one corner of his mouth?

"Yes," Melody said stiffly. "There is a problem." She sucked in a breath and continued in a rush of words. "In fact, there are several problems. First of all, I want to go home and I can't because my car is literally surrounded. Furthermore, my feet are killing me—"

Melody put on the brakes, stopped talking.

Spence, frowning as he listened, surveyed the lot full of rigs that might have been parked by half-trained baboons, and sighed. She was unprepared for the impact of his blue eyes when he looked back at her face, then slid a leisurely glance down the length of her body to her shoes, which weren't suitable for walking through gravel, let alone making the long hike home. The grin he'd probably been trying to suppress broke loose at last.

"I don't know how you can walk in those things," he remarked. "And, no offense, but that dress makes you look like an inverted daffodil. A wilted one. I'll bet it's stylish or something, but I'm not positive yellow is your color. The only good point is that it shows off one leg. I like that. You have nice legs."

Melody rolled her eyes, then snapped, "Well, thanks a whole heap for nothing."

"Just my opinion," Spence said. "I wasn't kidding about the leg part."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion of my dress or my shoes or my legs," she said, more than peevish now. When would this damnable night be over?

Spence's response was a low chuckle, and the sound was so thoroughly masculine it made her heart pound. "Come to think of it," he drawled, "you didn't." He paused, and in an instant, his expression changed. He seemed tired, no longer amused. "I'm headed for home myself, and I'd be glad to drop you off at your place." A beat of silence. "Your car will be all right here till morning, if that's what you're worried about."

By then, Melody's heart had shinnied up into the back of her throat, but she managed to croak out a reply anyway. "I don't think—I wouldn't—I mean—"

Spence's mouth twitched again, and his eyes twinkled as he watched her.

Melody wanted to punch him.

She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to…

Damn it all to hell, she didn't know what she wanted.

Typically, Spence didn't ask. Instead, without any warning at all, he swept Melody up into his arms and proceeded to carry her across the parking lot, his strides purposeful.

"What," Melody gasped, after a considerable delay and with significant effort, "are you doing?"

"That ought to be obvious," Spence replied reasonably. "I'm hauling you to my truck so I can drive you home. It's not as if you could cover much ground under your own power—not in those ridiculous shoes, anyhow."

"Hauling me?"

He nodded matter-of-factly. "You look thin enough, but I'd say you're on the hefty side. I've lugged around calves that weighed less."

Melody seethed, stung, even as something primitive and hungry unfurled inside her. "That was a terrible thing to say!" she protested. "Hefty?"

They'd reached Spence's truck, and he set her on the passenger side running board, holding her in place with one hand while he extracted his keys from the pocket of his jeans. After easing her to one side, he opened the door and gestured for her to get in.

"Sorry," he finally said, without conviction.

Melody's backside landed hard on the seat, and she was too stunned by his audacity to say another word. Or to climb right out of the truck.

Spence paused to consider some passing thought, rubbing his chin as he apparently pondered. His beard was already coming in, Melody noticed, oddly distracted.

"I guess I can be fairly tactless," he conceded. "But I did apologize, didn't I?"

Melody found some remnant of her voice, enough to call him a name.

Spence shook his head in apparent amazement, but Melody knew that lethal grin of his was lurking just out of sight and might reappear at any moment, a dazzling flash that would leave her temporarily blinded.

"I should've known better than to try and do you a favor," he said with a longsuffering sigh. Before Melody could react, he added a brusque, "Fasten your seatbelt." With that, he slammed the door, came around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel.

Find out more about Linda and her books at www.lindalaelmiller.com.