Smitten

“Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. I think everyone should have lots of delicious romance novels lying around for those times when the peanut butter of life gets stuck to the roof of your mouth.” Janet Evanovich, 1988
Visit Janet Evanovich’s website at www.evanovich.com, or write her at P.O. Box 5487, Hanover, NH 03755.

long-standing member of RWA.

winner of the New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf Award

Lizabeth almost passed out from relief. No more motorcycle. No more speeding around. “What about the car? It looks like a new car, too.”

Lizabeth followed. There was a car pulling into her driveway. A brand-new, shiny black Jeep-type thing.

She twisted the gold band on her finger and felt a rush of happiness. Her life was perfect. She amended that to almost perfect. There was still the motorcycle. It was a terrific motorcycle—if you liked motorcycles. After all, it was a hog.

Matt didn’t want to hear it. She was going to tell him to take it back, or she was going to tell him she’d pay for it by taking in laundry or something equally ridiculous.

He tried to slam the door shut, but Matt had his foot rammed against it.

Matt added “renovate carriage house” and “buy Lizabeth new car” to the checklist he’d been carrying in his hea

Lizabeth took a plate and piled fried chicken on it. She added a glob of potato salad, a glob of three-bean salad, and four brownies.