Karen Witemeyer Quotes & Sayings

Jericho, hmm?" Hannah felt an answering grin curve her lips. "I suddenly feel a great fondness for that name."
The two women giggled like young girls scheming behind the schoolhouse. Jericho Tucker had no idea what was coming his way. — Karen Witemeyer

Stone rose to his feet and bent down to capture on of her hands. Dobson's not the only man you can depend on, Charlotte.She looked at him a long moment before tugging her hand free. We'll see. — Karen Witemeyer

Are you sure I can't mend a shirt or darn a sock for you in trade? Anything?"
"You can quit your yammerin' and carry this table downstairs so I can get back to minding my own business instead of messing around in yours. — Karen Witemeyer

I love you, Lottie, and I want to make you my wife." Stone's low voice rumbled between them. Ardent. Unwavering. Determined. "I'll pursue you," he vowed, "until a parson either joins us in marriage or speaks words over my grave. — Karen Witemeyer

I got ya, darlin'." "I'm not your darling. — Karen Witemeyer

Joanna pivoted and bit back a groan of despair.Crockett Archer was even more handsome than she'd remembered. Somehow his rancher's clothing made him seem more approachable, more ... within her reach. And if that wasn't the most ridiculous notion, she didn't know what was. A man with his looks and kind heart could have any woman he chose. He'd never settle for a shy, freckled redhead with an ex-outlaw for a father. She was everything the ideal preacher's wife was not. — Karen Witemeyer

A man protected his woman, after all. And Lord willing, one day Eden would be his. — Karen Witemeyer

Repent of your mistakes, learn from them, and move forward. Trust God to bring good out of whatever mess you're in. — Karen Witemeyer

Loving this woman was either going to kill him or make his life richer than he'd ever imagined. — Karen Witemeyer

He unlaced his arms and took a step forward. "You hurt?"
"Not badly." She tried to smile, but her lips only curved on one side. "My main problem is that I'm stuck to a cactus."
( ... )
"How'd you manage to get tangled up with a cactus?" J.T. crouched beside her and started extricating her from the prickly plant.
"Well, believe it or not, I was on my way to apologize to you when a prairie-dog hole jumped up and grabbed my shoe heel. — Karen Witemeyer

The fiasco in the barn flashed through her mind. Yesterday she'd showered him with oats and today she'd pummeled him with a broom. At this rate, he'd be dead by the end of the week. — Karen Witemeyer

Why was it that thoughts and plans always made more sense when confined to one's mind than when they exited one's mouth? — Karen Witemeyer

His gaze moved from her face to the gun, then back to her face, an annoyingly smug expression creeping across his features. "I don't think so. You ain't got the first notion how to shoot that thing. Can't even find the trigger, can you." He took a menacing step toward her. Nicole raised her left brow. "You mean this trigger?" She cocked the hammer of the Colt Paterson revolver and released the folding trigger mechanism. Will stopped. "You forget, Will Jenkins - I'm a Renard. Daughter of Anton Renard and granddaughter to Henri Renard, privateer and compatriot of Jean Lafitte himself. I know a thing or two about weapons. — Karen Witemeyer

Will you need assistance with the boilers, as well?" "I can manage those on my own, but we'll need two wheelbarrow loads of wood to fuel the fireboxes. There's a barrow out by the woodshed. If you would start loading it while I move the boilers down to the pond, that would save considerable time." "Aye, aye, Captain." Nicole clicked her heels together and snapped a salute. Her employer seemed a bit nonplussed by her actions until she winked at him and allowed the smile she'd been fighting to bloom across her face. He laughed then and gave her a playful push in the direction of the shed. "Hop to, sailor, before I make you walk the plank for insubordination." Nicole scurried away, giving her best imitation of a cowed crew member, bowing and scraping as she trotted over the packed dirt of the yard. Darius's deep chuckles followed her, the rich sound warming a place inside her that she hadn't even realized had been cold. — Karen Witemeyer

Jericho? You're smiling." "I am?" He stroked her cheek again. Warm tingles coursed through her, and instinctively, she followed his touch a second time. His smile widened. "I must be happy." ( ... ) "You're quite handsome when you're happy." Jericho trailed one finger under her chin. "I'll make a note of your preference. — Karen Witemeyer

Dear God, I don't want my fear to be a barrier to the blessings you are trying to bestow. Cast out my fear, and help me to trust your perfect love. But also grant me a full measure of wisdom. Do not let me be led astray by my own desires. If it is not your will that I pursue a relationship with Levi, I pray that you will stop me. Make your message so clear that I cannot argue it away. Protect me, Lord, and show me the way I should go. — Karen Witemeyer

Beware, Charlotte Atherton," Stone murmured as she disappeared around the corner of the barn. "I'm coming for you." A smile of anticipation stretched across his face. "And I always retrieve what I set out after. — Karen Witemeyer

It would be unfair to measure him against a fictional standard that he could never possibly achieve. — Karen Witemeyer

It was like skimming through a novel without fully engaging with the story until a well-turned phrase or powerful bit of imagery snagged her attention, hinting at depths previously unnoticed. — Karen Witemeyer

The woman might think God spared his life in part so he could be here when she found herself in desperate need of employment, but he knew the truth. God had not brought Nicole to Oakhaven for a job. He'd brought her here to pull the thorn out of a stubborn bear of a man's paw so that he could finally start to heal. And something told him if he allowed her to leave him, an even larger thorn would take its place. One from which he might never recover. — Karen Witemeyer

Scripture instructs God's people to give our best to whatever task we turn our hands to, to conduct ourselves as if we work for the Lord himself, not for man. — Karen Witemeyer

You're wrong about one thing, though," she said. Daniel looked quizzically at her. "What?" Etta reached up to his brow and brushed his hair off his forehead with a gentle caress that set his blood to pumping. Then she tilted her head back and met his gaze. "You are a hero. My hero." And — Karen Witemeyer

You can't redeem your failures. None of us can. Only the Redeemer has that power, and he's already wielding it on your behalf. He's bringing good out of that tragedy, good that we are only beginning to see. — Karen Witemeyer

Honey, if the man is that dense, you can drag that cot he been sleepin' on into your room, nab his clothes, and lay in wait for him. When he comes lookin' for his things, lock the door and settle the matter once and for all. — Karen Witemeyer

With no sums to keep his conscience at bay, the black book loomed large, creeping into his line of sight.
He scanned the room for something else to do. The harness still needed work. And he'd been meaning to fix that rickety shelf since last month. The pipe on his potbellied stove was dented. The windowsill needed dusting.
Dusting?
J.T. braced his arms on the desk and pressed his forehead into the heels of his hands. — Karen Witemeyer

She glimpsed Levi cutting through the crowd to get to her. Smoothing her hair and finding a smile, she greeted him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Would you like a piece of cake?" Levi peered down at her, concern lining his face. "Are you all right?" "Yes, of course. I'm fine." She tugged on her sleeve as if it could conceal the evidence of the sheriff's touch and reached for a clean plate. "You should try some of Chloe's lemon pound cake. It's delicious." Levi stroked her arm, his caress a soothing balm after the sheriff's manhandling. "Eden, look at me." She did, and all pretense fell away. "Did he hurt you?" "No." Eden sighed. — Karen Witemeyer

You might of put Travis from your mind, but I still think he claims a piece of your heart. — Karen Witemeyer

But when you continue clinging to your feelings of guilt, this God-given mission becomes nothing more than self-imposed penance. — Karen Witemeyer

One day I'm going to catch you in a full-blown grin, Mr.Tucker," she said, wagging a finger at him, "and when I do, watch out because I'm going to crow in victory." "We all need goals in life, Miss Richards." J.T. swung two boards up onto his shoulder and peered down at her. "Mine's to get this stuff delivered before the first snow falls. You think I got a chance at making that happen? — Karen Witemeyer

Ye comin'?" Ben shook his head. "Nope. I'm just the driver. Ms. Adams owns the shop. She makes all the buyin' decisions." McPhearson nodded. "Seems my woman's determined to make a few buyin' decisions of her own." He shrugged. "I'll have to keep an eye on her. If Hazel has her way, she'll probably trade away me favorite chair. Finally got the thing fittin' me backside just the way I like it." "Colin McPhearson," his wife scolded from the porch, where she and Tori had paused to eavesdrop on the men's conversation. "No one in their right mind would take that lumpy, broken-down thing. There's a better chance of me breaking that old chair up for kindling than there is of a sensible woman like Mrs. Adams taking it in trade." "Don't be criticizing me chair, woman," McPhearson blustered, raising his voice but putting no real heat behind the words as he stomped the rest of the way across the yard. Ben — Karen Witemeyer

Mollie blushed as Mr. Walters released his hold on Jacob in order to embrace her in an enthusiastic hug. Jacob frowned at the sight of another man's arms around his woman, but it was only right that she receive credit for the part she'd played. His woman. Had he really just labeled her as such? It seemed odd yet so very, very right. What also felt very, very right was getting Trent Walters's arms away from Mollie. — Karen Witemeyer

away from Eden. She's mine. — Karen Witemeyer

I should have died. Not her. Nicole stiffened against him. There it was again, that woeful statement belittling his value, his worth. — Karen Witemeyer

Certainty of purpose pumping with every heartbeat. That rare sense of satisfaction that came only when one responded to the call to the direct call of the Lord. — Karen Witemeyer

So, you think God made a mistake." She leaned away from him, her voice hardening just enough to get his attention. He twisted to face her. "Why should an innocent die while a reprobate lives?" "I see," she said. "Only sinful people should have died in that accident if God were indeed just. Of course, all have sinned, so I suppose only the tiniest of babes should have survived according to your reasoning. — Karen Witemeyer

I myself prefer being called Cassie. It's so much friendlier and less pretentious than Cassandra, don't you think? ... I think both fit you right fine. One is elegant and graceful, the other fun and lively. — Karen Witemeyer

He gently covered her hand with his, wishing he could feel her soft skin through the rough leather of his work gloves. He dragged her fingers down from his mouth and cradled them against his chest. His gaze never left her face. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn't look away. Fingers splayed, her palm pressed against the thin cotton of his shirt, directly over his heart. In that moment, he knew she belonged to him. — Karen Witemeyer

He's been known to steal a kiss under the branches of that big oak, too. You'd never know it to look at him, but my Arthur can be quite the man of passion." Nicole giggled, charmed by the idea of the staid butler sharing a passionate embrace with his wife in such a setting. "I can't imagine a better place for a tryst. It's a shame I don't have a beau to share it with." The housekeeper's expression sharpened an instant before the dust rag resumed its fluttering - a fluttering that seemed rather more frantic than necessary. "So you have no young man paying court to you? Hard to believe, as pretty as you are." Nicole blushed and became suddenly fascinated with the logbook in front of her. "Not yet," she said, fingering the pages, "but my father has a few prospects in mind. — Karen Witemeyer

Yet she'd let herself get distracted by vanity and worry - two of the most worthless pursuits known to womankind. — Karen Witemeyer

Ach. Now, there be a lass with a bonny look to 'er. And I'm thinking it's nae me she's coming to see. — Karen Witemeyer

Why do women have to be so complicated, Wellborn?" he grumbled. The butler shook his head, a hint of a smile lighting his eyes. "I suppose God wanted to ensure we never grew bored, sir. — Karen Witemeyer

He treated her like a china doll that needed to sit on a high shelf and be admired but never handled. Marietta didn't want to be admired from a distance. She wanted to be touched. Held. Embraced. By him. — Karen Witemeyer

It's been hours, son." Footsteps echoed in the room. "Let me sit with her for a few minutes while you go - " "I'm staying. I have to. I love her, Uncle Curtis." There were the words again. Only this time instead sounding like a promise, they sounded like torture. "I want to have a family. With Mollie." He paused. "With you, too." "Jacob." It seemed to be all Uncle Curtis could say. Mollie couldn't blame him. It was the only word she wanted to say, too. "Jacob." He was at her side in a flash, taking her hand in his. "Mollie?" She focused all her energy on lifting her eyelids. They cracked just a bit, enough to let a sliver of lamplight in. Slowly, her lashes parted and she saw him. Red-rimmed eyes, stubbly jaw, hair a wreck. Her man. "I won't leave you." She gave him her promise before exhaustion once again overtook her and dragged her back into unconsciousness. — Karen Witemeyer

Etta, you don't have to . . . I never meant . . . You love those books." "No, Daniel." She yanked her arm from his grasp and slapped the remaining book against his chest. "I love you. The books were just a way to pretend that a part of you could actually belong to me." The defiance faded from her eyes to be replaced by abject misery. "And now you never will." Dan — Karen Witemeyer

One who will offer you his coat when you're cold or cut you a bloom from his favorite rosebush just because he was thinkin' about ya while he worked. One who'll take your sass in good humor and sass you back when ya need it. — Karen Witemeyer

Perhaps if I'd arrived donned in a pair of trousers, with my hair in a tangled mess - a style you apparently prefer - you'd have shown me the courtesy of granting an interview before sending me away. — Karen Witemeyer

But when this slip of a girl with trust blazing in her bright blue eyes looked at him, all he could think about was protecting the one piece of the outside world that had found a way in. — Karen Witemeyer

Meredith bundled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders before ducking her head and scurrying past his brother. Travis knew he probably looked like a lovesick pup just standing there watching her go, but he didn't care. Crockett even came into the room and stared into the newly emptied hall alongside him, obviously trying to taunt him out of his stupor. "So when are you finally going to tell her that you're insanely in love with her?" Crockett asked, only a hint of teasing in his voice. Travis rubbed a hand over his whiskery jaw, reaching his fingers up to the place she had kissed. "Tonight. Definitely tonight. — Karen Witemeyer

Who would have thought a fine lady like Eden Spencer would ever look twice at a coarse ironmonger like him? Yet even now with his face a patchwork of green, yellow, and deep purple, her beautiful mossy eyes glowed with an inner light that exuded love. For him. A convicted felon. A man with neither wealth nor reputation. A man who couldn't even properly enunciate her entire name. A man who returned her love a hundredfold. — Karen Witemeyer

Something tells me you might soon be changin' your tune about that iron-bender. He ain't all he seems. Trust me, darlin'. You can do better. — Karen Witemeyer

Jacob remained by Mollie's side throughout the night, clinging to her hand as well as to her vow. She wasn't going to leave him. She'd given her word, and Mollie never broke a promise. He prayed. He tended the cuts she'd suffered from the blackberry brambles when she'd fallen. The vines had grown entangled within a cedar's branches, and as best he could tell, she'd climbed the tree in order to reach the ripe berries that other pickers had left behind. Unfortunately, the limb she'd shimmied out on had been weak and had broken beneath her weight. "You know, this tree climbing and dropping through busted church floors is going to have to stop after we're married. My heart won't be able to take the stress." He smiled and ran the back of his finger down the smooth line of her cheek. "Not that I expect any dictate I give you to have much effect. My only hope is that you'll grow to care enough about me that you'll take pity on me and cease taking unnecessary risks with your life. — Karen Witemeyer

Joanna's quietly intent nature contrasted sharply with Holly's vibrancy. While Miss Brewster's flirtation stroked his ego, the spiritual maturity Miss Robbin's exhibited commanded his admiration and respect. — Karen Witemeyer

Your kite, milady?"
She curtsied and handed it to him. "Why, thank you, Sir Tucker. Take care, though. The fabric is wont to snag. — Karen Witemeyer

That's it!" "Anton," her mother gasped. "You startled me." "Sorry, my love." Papa patted her hand as she returned to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "But I've just had the most astounding idea." "What is it?" The question rang simultaneously from both Nicole and her mother. Her papa smiled. A scheming, devilish, piratical smile that one would expect to see right before a blade ran him through. Nicole flopped onto the divan. "Nicki's going to take a little trip to New Orleans." "But why?" Maman asked. "She just got home." Papa rubbed his palms against his thighs in anticipation. "Don't you see? It will solve everything. It will keep Nicki away from Jenkins and secure the future of Renard Shipping at the same time." "How?" Nicole ventured, somehow certain she'd not like the answer. Her papa's grin confirmed it. "By giving me the next best thing to a son." "And that is . . . ?" her mother prompted. "A son-in-law. — Karen Witemeyer

Ben! You should have waited for me." The wagon wobbled a bit, no doubt from Tori climbing up into the bed. An instant later, her hand clasped his shoulder. "Here. Wrap your arm around me." She reached for the arm that didn't have a death grip on the wagon side and wrapped it around her neck. He cracked his eyes open a smidge. "I'd never . . . turn that . . . request down." Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Score one for him. "Lean — Karen Witemeyer

You got someone else courting you?"
"No." The fork she'd been scrubbing slid from her hand, returning to the murky depths. "But then, I wasn't sure I had you courting me, either. I seem to recall you expressing a number of objections to my suitability in the past. — Karen Witemeyer

She couldn't tell him the truth - that she was here to wrangle a proposal out of him. How desperate would that make her look? Besides, no man wanted to think he was being manipulated into marriage. He wanted to be the pursuer, the one in control. She was simply creating opportunities in which that pursuit might occur. No, — Karen Witemeyer

In the last three years, he'd met many women.Young. Old. Pretty. Plain. Devout. Flirtatious. After living only among men for years,he found he enjoyed the company of women.Their gracious manners.Their gentle ways.Their lovely figures. But never had he felt anything deeper than a surface admiration. Perhaps because he'd been so focused on his training.Yet only after a handful of minutes, Joanna Robbins had touched something deep inside him, as only a kindred spirit could do.
She'd experienced the Lord's call on her life as surely as he had.And while he'd been called to minister to many, she'd been called for one. Who was he to say her calling any less significant than his own? In fact her dedication to the one in her care humbled him, gave him a perspective he'd been lacking. In other circumstances,he could easily imagine the two of them becoming friends. Maybe after he settled in Brenham, he could write to her, encourage her. — Karen Witemeyer

I'd like to build a house there someday. One with a big plate-glass window in the front so I can sip my tea and watch the flowers grow. Eden leaned into his side as she stepped around a hole dug by a ground squirrel or some other burrowing creature, and Levi couldn't help but picture himself behind that same window, moving up behind Eden to touch his lips to the sensitive skin along her neck. She'd smile and ask about his day. He'd wrap his arms around her and say that the best part of it was coming home. Then perhaps a little girl with reddish curls and moss-green eyes would run into the room, call him Daddy, and latch on to his leg. He'd swing her high into the air and laugh at her delighted squeals. — Karen Witemeyer

The Lord probably didn't appreciate her feigning nearsightedness in order to repeatedly lean into her husband when she should've been concentrating on the meaning behind the hymn she was singing. — Karen Witemeyer

And therein lay the crux of her problem. She didn't trust God to direct her steps. When trouble loomed, she altered her course, convincing herself she was displaying wisdom and the courage of her convictions. Yet in actuality, she was surrendering to fear, letting it control her in place of the Lord's hand — Karen Witemeyer

Watching the Archer brothers eat was like watching a twister blow through the room. Meredith sat with her elbows tucked close to her side, afraid to do more than occasionally raise her fork to her mouth for fear of being rammed by a reaching arm or thumped by a tossed biscuit. The venison steak was overdone, the beans gluey, and the biscuits were dry as unbuttered toast, yet the Archers attacked their food like a pack of dogs fighting over a fresh kill. No one spoke. They just ate. — Karen Witemeyer

Hanging back to get her reaction under control, she wiped her knife on the edge of her petticoat, then angled her body away so she could raise her skirts enough to slip the knife into its sheath, taking care not to drop the pilfered food cradled in her other arm. When she straightened, she expected Darius and Jacob to be well ahead but instead found her companions only a few yards away, their far-too-curious eyes riveted on her. "So that's where you keep it." Darius's attention dropped to a spot halfway down her skirt. "I had wondered." Nicole lifted her chin. "Yes, well, I tried carrying it around in one of those lacy little reticules, but it kept getting tangled in the ribbons. Not very practical." Keeping her eyes averted from Darius's face, she marched past the gawkers and headed for the house. — Karen Witemeyer

Only a master weaver could intertwine dark and light threads in such a way that all one saw was beauty when looking back at the finished tapestry. — Karen Witemeyer

Ever since she'd come home from school three years ago, she'd been burrowing under his skin, itching like a host of chigger bites. He kept telling himself not to scratch, but invariably he did anyway, fool that he was. And here he was scratching again, thinking about her when he should be focused on the work at hand. He — Karen Witemeyer

Archers stood together, no matter what. Not even frilly-smelling laundry could tear them apart. — Karen Witemeyer

I dreamed o' ye, lass, down in that pit. I dreamed . . . and I promised meself that if the Almighty saw fit to spare me sorry hide, that I'd be asking a favor of ye the moment I saw yer bonny face." Chloe lifted Duncan's filthy hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "I'd do anything for you, Duncan. Anything." "Are ye sure, lass?" He paused, staring up at her. "I'm sure." "Good. 'Cause I want ye to let me give ye a last name. . . . Mine. — Karen Witemeyer

She had curled up with those books on more than one occasion, and yes, she had dreamt of a handsome, red-haired man of action, but it hadn't been Dead-Eye Dan, drat it all. She'd dreamt of Daniel Barrett, the man who worked her father's cattle, who trained the finest mules in the county, and whose sky-blue eyes could melt her heart with a single glance. Daniel Barrett had stolen her heart before she'd ever even heard of Dead-Eye Dan. I — Karen Witemeyer

Oh, Levi. How glorious! Look at all the bluebonnets. Have you ever seen anything more stunning?" "Only you. — Karen Witemeyer

Forgive yourself for the child you were unable to save, Darius, and praise God for the many who are alive today because of your actions. — Karen Witemeyer

You didn't have to say it. It's written all over your face. You think more of that oversized iron-bender than you do of me. — Karen Witemeyer

I . . . uh . . . thinking about the time you got mad at me for . . . trampling that cockroach. Then remembered how you lit into Goodwin with that bat. I found it funny. — Karen Witemeyer

No, she'd spent the last five years begging the Lord to help her find contentment in her spinster status. And he'd been faithful. She had her library, her Ladies Aid work, the children's reading hour. She could come and go as she pleased, spend her money as she deemed fit, all without the hassle of first gaining a man's permission. And if the loneliness sometimes ate away at her like water poured on a sugarloaf ... ? Well, God had seen her through the last five years. She figured he could be depended upon to see her through the next fifty. — Karen Witemeyer

God desires his people to be abounding in love and good works. To be people of integrity and honor. People who reflect his character. But we are human - sinful people capable of evil deeds. — Karen Witemeyer

Unless he'd missed is guess, Miss Joanna Robbins possessed the soul of a missionary. How that had come to be when she'd been raised by an outlaw and his gang, Crockett couldn't fathom. Yet he sensed her passion. Respected it. He'd not belittle her dream. — Karen Witemeyer

Not that this woman would need chains to capture a man's attention under normal circumstances. Her milky skin,soft eyes,and that mad riot of reddish-gold corkscrew curls that gave her a pixie-like appearance would see to the task. — Karen Witemeyer

Anyone who could disappear with three kids and leave no trace is a force to be reckoned with. I respected your mind from the beginning, but over the last few days, I've come to respect your heart as well. — Karen Witemeyer

I think you made your opinion clear already. Go home, Eden. And don't worry. I won't bother you anymore." He unlaced his arms and turned away to pick up a new log. "But I want you to bother me! — Karen Witemeyer

No matter how many precautions we take, none of us are truly in control. Only God can claim that kind of authority. All we can do is use the good sense he provides and trust him to guide us. — Karen Witemeyer

Eden," he said, staring at their joined hands. "I built the arch to reveal my heart. Your name will forever be the focal point, uplifted by love. And if you would permit me, I'd like to build more with you - a family and a life." Levi raised his gaze to her face, surprised to see wetness glistening on her cheeks. "Eden, will you marry me? — Karen Witemeyer

Travis came up behind her, his hat brim bumping her head as he nuzzled her neck. She giggled and danced away, feeling playful yet oddly shy at the same time. Travis gave chase, his husky laughter blending with hers as the two of them darted out of the barn. When they neared the porch, he grabbed her about the waist and lifted her off her feet. Meredith squealed. "You can't escape me," Travis murmured in her ear as he gently settled her back on the ground. Meredith turned in his arms to face the man she loved. "I've no desire to." His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. But then he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the porch steps. The front door proved more of a challenge to conquer. Travis had to juggle his hold on her a bit before he could get the latch open. Meredith laughed in delight, endeared by his awkward efforts. Once the door was cracked, he kicked it wide with his boot and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Archer. — Karen Witemeyer

2 Nicole gnawed on her lip as she pressed her back — Karen Witemeyer

Unable to resist any longer, he buried his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and angled her face upward. He leaned forward and dropped soft little kisses onto her lips, starting at the corner and working his way across until she began to stir. Her lashes flittered. "Gid - ?" He smothered her question with his kiss. No longer playful, he took her mouth fully, holding nothing back. She was no longer Adelaide Proctor, governess. She was Adelaide Westcott, wife. His wife. It didn't take long for her to recover from her surprise. She clasped his shoulder for support and stretched toward him. His pulse surged, and when she finally pulled away, he refused to let her separate from him completely. He rested his forehead against hers and listened to their ragged breaths echoing in the quiet morning. "Feeling better today, are we?" Adelaide asked as she lowered her head back down to her pillow, her face a becoming shade of pink. Gideon grinned. "A little. — Karen Witemeyer

I don't want anyone hurt because I made a wrong choice, God. I need all the wisdom and guidance You can spare. — Karen Witemeyer

I'd hate to be putting a bullet in a lawman, so I'd appreciate ye lowerin' yer weapon, sir. — Karen Witemeyer

Yet it was her inner light that captured him most. — Karen Witemeyer

Do I really have to face him again, Travis? The man will be insufferable after besting me as he did." Travis grinned and grabbed up the empty basket. "You can handle him. I've got faith in you." He held his hand out to her after she finished pinning a second petticoat to the line. She glanced uncertainly at his offering, then slipped her palm into his. On impulse, he tugged her arm, causing her to stumble into him. "We're Archers, Meri," he murmured as he tucked her briefly against his chest. "We can face anything if we do it together. — Karen Witemeyer

He was halfway to the house, thinking to set the cabbage inside the kitchen door,when a brown blur thundered past him.
Joanna Robbins tore out of the barn astride a magnificent chestnut quarter horse. She leaned forward in the saddle,hat flopping against her back, hair streaming out behind her in a wild curly mass as she urged her mount to a full-out gallop. Unable to do anything but stare, Crockett stood dumbstruck as she raced past.
She was the most amazing horsewoman he'd ever seen. Joanna Robbins. The shy creature who claimed painting and reading were her favorite pastimes had just bolted across the yard like a seasoned jockey atop Thoroughbred. She might have inherited her mother's grace and manners, but the woman rode like her outlaw father.Maybe better. — Karen Witemeyer

I also wrote them about you." His blue gaze bored into her with paralyzing force. She couldn't move. Couldn't flee. Could only stare at the social travesty of his ungroomed features - the scruffy half beard shadowing his jaw, the too-long hair falling over his forehead - and feel her heart beat with love for this unconventional man. Darius's grip softened on her wrist until his fingers were tracing tiny circles over the sensitive skin. "I told them that I had met a woman who wasn't afraid to stand toe-to-toe with me. A woman who had seen my flaws and learned my darkest secrets, yet didn't immediately run for the hills." His self-deprecating chuckle coaxed a reluctant smile from her, the sound soothing the sharp edges of her turmoil. "I told them how this woman seemed instinctively to know when to comfort and when to confront, and how I was better with her in my life than I'd ever been on my own. — Karen Witemeyer

Really, Mr. Grant. One would think that after living in this town for nearly a week and making numerous visits to my library, you would extend me the courtesy of learning my name." "I know your name, Eden." Her eyes shot to his. "I know your name." The intensity in his gaze left no doubt of his sincerity. — Karen Witemeyer

Tori chanced a glance out of the corner of her eye to the man at her side. His attention appeared riveted to the road in front of them. Good. He probably didn't even notice. His head suddenly swiveled her way as if he sensed her gaze. He winked at her. Winked! "I gotta say your stamina is impressive." His voice held a warm, teasing lilt. "I didn't think you'd make it past Mrs. Cooper's chicken farm with that iron-poker spine, and here you lasted three times as long." Tori stiffened, then realized the irony of the action and settled for pursing her lips instead. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about." Mr. Porter chuckled. "And here I'd always thought you the honest type." Tori — Karen Witemeyer

He tried to smile, but his bloodied lip wouldn't do more than twitch. "Want to tell you . . . got interrupted . . ." His eyelid drooped, and his words drifted away. Eden's chest throbbed. "You can tell me later," she assured him, stuffing down her disappointment while her fingers brushed the hair at the top of his head. "It's all right to rest." "No . . . tell you . . . now." His words were so low they were hard to make out. Eden leaned closer. Levi's languid eyelid slowly rolled upward. "Love . . . you. — Karen Witemeyer

He glanced down at his naked chest. "Where's my shirt?" Cheeks heating, Tori reached behind him and snagged the dangling shirt sleeve and held it open for him to push his left arm through. When she finally found the wherewithal to look him in the face again, the teasing look in his pain-filled eyes nearly toppled her onto her backside. "Knew you liked my muscles." Of all the . . . Oh, who was she kidding? She did like his muscles. Though they both knew that had nothing to do with his shirt being undone. "Modesty is obviously not one of your virtues." She'd tried to make the statement sound prim, but it filtered through her smile and came out sounding flirtatious instead. Her. Flirtatious. Good grief. Head injuries must be contagious. Offering — Karen Witemeyer

He could fit what he knew about women in a bullet casing and still have room for the gunpowder. — Karen Witemeyer

She brought the bite to her mouth and chewed slowly, as if savoring the sweet. But he knew better. She was stalling. Using the tart as an excuse to occupy her mouth so she couldn't answer his questions. Darius tugged her plate out of reach before she could stab a second bite. "Nicole." His use of her given name had the desired effect. Her chin jerked up and her eyes widened as she scanned his face. "Your safety is not a trifling matter." The urge to cover her hand with his speared through him, but he resisted, not knowing how she'd interpret such a gesture. Unsure, as well, how he'd want her to interpret it. "While you are at Oakhaven, you are under my protection. Whatever you are running away from - " "I'm not running away." Her eyes sparked, and she visibly bristled as if he'd offended her. "I'm simply taking care of an . . . an errand for my father. It requires a bit of secrecy, is all, and there are competitors who wish to . . . interfere. — Karen Witemeyer

You need not treat me like a child, sir. I am perfectly capable of navigating this staircase on my own."
He snorted.
Her nostrils flared. "I promise not to ask you to catch me again, all right? Now stop scowling."
Of course he did no such thing. — Karen Witemeyer

Charlotte dropped her gaze to her feet. You're the most heroic man I've ever met, Stone Hammond. Slowly she lifted her face. I owe you everything. — Karen Witemeyer

Dan bit back a growl. No smooth-talking, barely-shaving stripling was going to charm her away. She needed a mature man, one with the skills and experience to protect her, provide for her. Hands balled into fists, Dan inhaled through his nose in an effort to stem the rising tide of jealousy that nearly had him shouting at her again. Maybe he shouldn't be in such a hurry to send her back to Richland. Where younger men named Clarence waited in the wings. — Karen Witemeyer

All this time she'd thought it God's will that she be a spinster. She had grown content with that expectation, taking satisfaction in the wisdom she'd gained through her experience with Stephen. No man would dupe her again. But what if living alone was never part of God's plan for her? What if she chose that life because it was safe - because she was afraid? — Karen Witemeyer

She'd not allow Daniel Barrett to escape her so easily. She'd placed a bounty on his heart, and she intended to collect. — Karen Witemeyer