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Redemption, Hell. Tampa, Florida, USA. Columbus, Ohio, USA. Helpers rox , E-romance 5 , Conkie 4 , GwynethM 1 , r. Adult Education by Katalina Leon. Afterlife by Joey W. Bachelorette by Sherri L. Bedtime, Playtime by Jaid Black. Behind the Mask Anthology by Joey W. Bound to Trust by Jaci Burton. Cabin Fever by Diana Hunter. Cajun Blue by Dominique Adair. Captive Warrior by Vonna Harper. Castaways by Cheyenne McCray. The Charade by Mackenzie McKade.
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Nailed: 3 Erector Set by Desiree Holt. Natural Law by Joey W. Stock photo. Brand new: Lowest price The lowest-priced brand-new, unused, unopened, undamaged item in its original packaging where packaging is applicable. See details for delivery est. Buy It Now. Add to cart. Sold by varmontco41 About this product Product Identifiers Publisher. Additional Product Features Target Audience.
Show More Show Less. Any Condition Any Condition. Ratings and Reviews Write a review. Most relevant reviews. Good book--Couldn't put it down Sweet Discipline This book was fun, except for the ending. Great Book I bought this book cause there was a wonder description of it, and they put the back cover on the page so i was able to read what the book was about.
Best Selling in Books See all. Children's Health Defense Ser. Shelby took her by the shoulders attempting to calm her down, all the time trying to make sense of what the child was saying. It was as if her brain froze, she said. This went on until the phone rang. The man on the other end told Shelby that he had her daughter. He told her that Victoria was safe. He told Shelby not to call the police. He told her that he had better not see an Amber Alert issued or hear about it on the news.
He said he would call back later with additional instructions. The instant he hung up, Shelby called the police. More specifically, she called Lieutenant Robert Dunston, head of the homicide unit of the St. Paul Police Department. I was home at the time, finishing up some yard work in the back. Like Bobby Dunston, I was a St. Paul boy, born and bred. Unlike Bobby, I had moved to the suburbs. It had been an accident. I thought I was buying a house in St. Anthony Park, one of the city's tonier neighborhoods, just a short jog from the St.
Paul campus of the University of Minnesota. It wasn't until after I made an offer that I discovered I was on the wrong side of Hoyt Avenue, that I had inadvertently moved to the suburbs, Falcon Heights to be precise. I shudder every time I think about it. Still, there were advantages. Lower property taxes, for one. For another, I had a large, sprawling backyard.
At the far end of the yard my father had built a pond complete with fountain amid the fir trees. I told Dad we could hire men to build the pond. He wouldn't hear of it. He was that kind of guy. At about the time Dad died, a pair of mallards discovered the pond and took up residence. Soon after, five ducklings appeared. Eventually they all flew south for the winter, yet the following spring a few of them returned and started new nests.
They've been coming and going ever since. While I was cutting grass, my neighbor Margot set up a lawn chair on her side of the pond and stretched out, catching the last of the summer's rays. She was wearing an emerald green one-piece swimsuit that demanded attention. She was half a decade older than I was but could pass for ten years younger.
Dad had been sweet on her; she was the last woman to kiss him, on the lips, on his deathbed. I had always been grateful to her for that. After I finished with the lawn, I walked a couple of Summit Ales to her chair. Early September? I left her after a few minutes and went into my house. I had just finished cleaning up when Bobby called and in a perfectly calm voice asked me to hurry over to his place. I thought he was inviting me to an early dinner.
He bought it from his parents when they retired to their lake home in Wisconsin. At first, Shelby wanted nothing to do with it. She told Bobby she was perfectly comfortable in the small six-room love nest in Highland Park that they had found just after they had been married. I thought that was a little over the top, until I learned that during the first few months after she and Bobby took possession, in-laws would come and go pretty much as they pleased, never calling ahead, never bothering to knock.
Once Shelby returned from shopping to find her brother-in-law watching her TV, eating a sandwich, and complaining that there was no mustard. A sister-in-law took it upon herself to sort out the garden. This went on even after she forced Bobby to collect all of their keys. Finally Shelby tore up her mother-in-law's carpet to reveal the hard-wood floor beneath, ripped down the wood paneling her father-in-law had installed around the fireplace, tossed out all of the furniture, curtains, and drapes that she had inherited, repainted every room, and replaced the deck in back with a brick patio actually, Bobby and I did that.
I knocked on the front door of Shelby's Place with my right hand. In my left I was holding a bottle of Piesporter; there was a two-liter bottle of orange pop for the girls tucked beneath my elbow.
The door opened abruptly. A man I didn't know stared out at me.
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