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Summary
Summary
CAN A LOVE BE LOST THAT WAS MEANT TO BE?
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A rising star in the modeling world, Margot Radcliffe hasn't forgotten the hurt that sent her running from Rosewood, the beautiful Virginia horse farm where she was raised. Travis Maher, a ruggedly handsome rebel and gifted horse trainer with a hard-knock past, had once captured Margot's heart--only to break it.
But when tragedy strikes her family, Margot is forced to set aside her skyrocketing career and return to a place she never expected to see again, where the legs that everyone admires belong to Thoroughbreds, not supermodels. Now Rosewood Farm's success depends on Margot, and the only person she can count on for help is the very man who so ruthlessly rejected her love all those years ago.
As Margot and Travis enter an uneasy truce to save Rosewood from financial ruin, their wild natures clash and their unresolved passions for each other begin to surge. But can this hard-edged horseman find a way to express his desire for the one woman he's ever loved before she's lost to him forever?
Author Notes
Laura Moore is the author of Believe in Me , In Your Eyes , Night Swimming, Chance Meeting, and Ride a Dark Horse . She currently lives in Rhode Island with her husband, two children, and one very old black Lab. One of her great thrills as a writer is to hear from readers.
Reviews (1)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Moore's first book of a projected trilogy tells the story of 18-year-old Margot Radcliffe, who runs away from her family's estate after a disastrous attempt to seduce stable-hand Travis. With astonishing ease, she finds success with an international modeling career, but it all turns to ashes when her father and stepmother are killed in a plane crash eight years later, leaving Margot to deal with a debt-riddled horse farm and a 16-year-old stepsister, Jade. Rejuvenating the farm hinges on Margot convincing Travis to work for her, but modeling pays the bills, and Travis' jealousy of Margot's career threatens their partnership-both professionally and emotionally. Taking place primarily in the horse country of Virginia, with excursions to New York and Milan, Moore's novel makes details of horse farming as interesting as the fashion world, but her vivid settings elbow out character development; when the lovers do get together, there's plenty of sizzle, but they get much more face-time with the horses than each other. (Feb.) Copyright 2010 Reed Business Information.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter One Eight Years Later . . . Sounds reverberated all around. Horses whickered and kicked out at their wooden stalls, impatient for their morning flakes of hay and rations of grain. Wheelbarrows landed with a heavy thud as they were set down upon the concrete flooring. The voices of the grooms talking while they worked their way down the rows of spacious box stalls accompanied the rhythmical scrape and clatter of grain being scooped out of the barrows and poured into rubber feed buckets. The noises of the barn at this hour--or at any time--were as familiar to Travis as the sound of his own breathing. This morning, however, they might as well have been miles away, for inside the barn's office a tense silence reigned. Travis stared in disbelief at the man sitting behind the scarred oak desk. For the past fourteen years, RJ Radcliffe had been mentor, friend, and father figure all rolled into one. Also his boss . . . only now his ex-boss if he'd heard correctly. "What the hell are you saying, RJ? Have you lost your friggin' mind?" RJ's tanned face grew mottled. "I think I made myself damned clear. And no, I haven't lost my mind--I've only been a damned fool. But no longer. I've wised up. Here." With short, angry tugs he ripped a check from the checkbook reserved for Rosewood Farm's payroll and thrust it at Travis with a shaking hand. "Here's this month's salary, plus two weeks' severance. I want you gone from Rosewood by five o'clock today." Travis made no move to take the money. Instead he looked at RJ's hand gripping the check and thought of how much this man had given him. Knowledge. The kind of knowledge a teenage punk growing up on the wrong side of town could never have gained on his own. A sense of belonging. Rosewood Farm meant more to Travis than any other place on earth. Hope. Learning to ride and train Rosewood's horses, some of the finest in Virginia, had allowed him to escape his sordid, sorry origins. RJ had offered him the chance to be known as something other than the good-for-nothing son of the town drunk. In exchange, Travis had given RJ his unswerving loyalty and gratitude. Even when he'd hungered for the forbidden, he had forced himself to remember how much he owed RJ. "Go on, take it." The rough command broke into his thoughts. "Take this and get the hell out of here." RJ was shaking with anger, and the paper check rattled in his grip. Travis's jaw clamped tightly in frustration. "I don't want your damned money," he ground out. "What I want is to know why you're firing me." "'Cause I know everything, you son of a bitch. You're lucky I haven't come after you with a shotgun." For an awful second Travis wondered if RJ had somehow learned about that long ago night. But no, that was impossible. He'd never breathed a word of it to anyone, and she--hell, she was gone, caught up in her glitzy world of parties and millionaire playboys. He'd seen the glossy magazine photos of her with a different guy in every shot. She looked as maddeningly beautiful as ever. Beautiful and distant. Ruthlessly pushing aside thoughts of her, he laid his palms flat on the desk. "What are you talking about, RJ?" he growled. "You could be speaking Chinese and making more sense." "I'm talking about my wife, you shifty whoreson. I've had my suspicions for months. But I kept telling myself that I could trust you. That you wouldn't stoop so low. Instead you played me for a fool." He tossed the check so it landed by Travis's hand and then grabbed a bright pink leather journal and shook it accusingly. "See this? It's Nicole's diary. I found it last night. It's all here, all her secret meetings with TM. TM," he spat, "as in Travis Maher--took me three seconds to figure who the son of a bitch was who was cuckolding me." Travis felt like he'd been sucker-punched. Outraged, he exploded, "Jesus, RJ, you don't really believe I'd--" " Excerpted from Remember Me by Laura Moore All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
