Read an excerpt from Life's Too Short for White Walls by Liz Flaherty

 

Still reeling from her divorce, Joss Murphy flees to Banjo Bend, Kentucky, where she'd been safe and happy as a child. The family farm is now a campground. Weary and discouraged, she talks owner Ezra McIntire into renting her a not-quite-ready cabin. With PTSD keeping him company, Ez thrives on the seclusion of the campground. The redhead in Cabin Three adds suggestions to his improvement plans, urging color and vibrancy where there was none.

Neither is looking for love, yet the attraction they share is undeniable. Can the comfort of campfires, hayrides, and sweet kisses bring these two lost souls together?

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Read an excerpt:

“Not…I don’t think about suicide.” That wasn’t true. He thought about it frequently, but not with any intent in mind. “There was sniper fire in Iraq—” Nothing like jumping into the middle of the story. “I should have been prepared. It was my team, my responsibility to keep them safe. I didn’t do it. Two people died.” He still woke in the middle of the night seeing their faces. No one had blamed him―even the team members’ wives hadn’t. They’d offered him more comfort at their husbands’ funerals than he’d deserved.

It should have been him. He was the pilot. It was his team.

It should have been him.

“Please.” Just the one word, spoken softly beside him, gave pause to the siege of his thoughts. He turned just enough to see her face and catch a glimpse of shimmer in her eyes. “I value you,” she said. “All the people here do. You give them a safe place and sometimes, like when we’re gathered up at the pavilion, you’re an instrument of hope for some of them. You need to value yourself, Ezra McIntire.”

Before he could look away, she lifted her hands…small, warm, and capable…to frame his face. Her eyes, still damp, still shimmering, held his gaze for a moment before they drifted closed and her lips touched his. Timorously at first, as if she were doing something she hadn’t in a long time, and then deeper. Warmer.

Ez didn’t know, as she pulled away and he drew her in for more, if knowing her…holding her…would allow him to value himself. But he did understand, from that first suggestion of a kiss, that he valued her, and that these moments shared on the porch of the old farmhouse were the best ones he’d had in more time than he could remember. Value. Yes, value.

USA Today bestselling author Liz Flaherty started writing in the fourth grade when her Aunt Gladys allowed her to use her portable Royal typewriter. The truth was that her aunt would have let her do anything to get her out of her hair, but the typewriter and the stories it could produce caught on, and Liz never again had a day without a what if… in it.

 
She and Duane, her husband of at least forever, live in a farmhouse in central Indiana, sharing grown children, spoiled cats, and their grandkids, the Magnificent Seven. (Don’t get her started on them—you’ll be here all day.) To find out more about her, stop by http://lizflaherty.net/ or sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/df7dhP.

I was compensated via Fiverr for sharing this post. I only share those books that I feel will be of interest to my readers.