About the Book
Series: Abiding Love
Genre: Christian, Historical, Romance
Publication Date: April 27, 2018
Some promises aren’t meant to last a lifetime.
Gini would do just about anything to take care of the eleven orphans in her custody. She’s vowed to never marry, but that oath is pushed to the limits when John moves in next door. The new Nebraska rancher is a tad abrasive but willing to step in when the entire town has given up on her little orphanage. She’s prayed for help for so long, but are God’s plans even bigger than she can conceive?
There are some things a man can’t outrun.
John’s running from the love he left behind in Kansas. On a mission to help his sister, John takes over her ranch, which has seen its share of problems. Day after day, John fights against those trying to seize his land, but a more present danger lurks right next door, the sweet redheaded owner of the orphanage, who’s fast stealing his heart.
As the world closes in on him, John must protect his home from rustlers and his heart from getting trampled, once again. If he can’t, he just might lose them both.
About the Author
Kari Trumbo is a co-author of the best-selling Cutter’s Creek continuity series as well as her personal series, The Seven Brides of South Dakota. She began her writing journey four years ago and has published over twenty titles through self-publishing. Prior to writing, she was a freelance developmental editor and beta reader.
Kari has a degree in Psychology and home schools her four children. She loves to learn new things and believes life should always be a learning environment. To continue her writing education, she is a part of the national Romance Writers of America and the American Christian Fiction Writers Association along with her local chapter, MN N.I.C.E.
Check out the interview with the author HERE.
A door behind him swung open, then closed with a soft click. “Might I help you find something?” asked a soft voice from behind him. He jumped at the intrusion and the woman’s proximity, slamming his head on the open cabinet door. He flung it closed, swallowing the harsh words that came too easy these days. Who in blazes could that be? White stars danced in front of his face, obscuring his vision. The brighter they flared, the more his head screamed at him. He blinked the bright flashes and moisture from his eyes to reveal a young woman. Her hair was either the brightest red he’d ever seen, or the glow around her meant she was an angel. She stood maybe five foot, short for a full-grown woman. He felt as cumbersome as a giant next to her. She paused by the door, a small basket clutched close. Now that the stars were clearing, he could make out her pleasant smile and pale-green eyes framed by a mass of curly red hair, smothered by a great yellow bonnet he’d mistaken for a halo. He wanted to smile back, if only the pain in his head would let him. The subtle tightening in his chest brought back thoughts of Margot, the woman he’d left back in Kansas, with dark hair and blue eyes. Remembering her would get him nowhere but angry, and he turned from the girl, scrubbing a hand across his face to erase both images. No sense living in the past. A man wasn’t a measure of what he carried with him, but he’d learned from it. “I don’t think that’ll help.” She stepped farther into the room and he glanced at her as a smile flickered across her face. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. Too gentle. He pulled away. He wasn’t there for kindness. He was there to work, and to forget. “Would you like a cool rag? I could get one for you. You might get a bump on your head.” Her voice was soft and coaxing, like she was speaking to a wary child, not a grown man. He pinched the bridge of his nose and used the motion to wipe the water collecting there. “I can get a rag all on my own.” His tone was more abrupt than he’d meant, and when she stepped back from him with hurt in her eyes, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Who are you, and what’cha doing in my kitchen?” He pressed his palm to his forehead against the pain, praying the little angel would get what she needed and move on. If she asked where Martha was, he’d be in an awkward place, since she hadn’t shown herself yet. Her smile faltered. “Your kitchen? Oh, you must be Martha’s brother. I didn’t realize you’d arrived. She’s been waiting for you for so long. I’m Gini. Martha lets me trade eggs for milk.” She set the basket on the counter and held out her hand to him. He stared at her for a minute while he found his voice. The girl certainly wasn’t afraid to face a stranger. He reached for her hand, small inside his own. He’d never thought of himself as peculiarly large, but she made him feel so. Her hand was soft, though calloused with work, and she took it back as quickly as she’d offered it. A nervous smile bloomed and fell from her face. “John. I’m John. Do you need me to get the milk for you?” He should just slug himself. Could he sound any more daft? Was he imagining that slight smile or just seeing what he wanted to? She took the eggs out of her basket and placed them in an empty one on the counter. “No thank you. I’m rather capable at this point, I’ve been doing it for a few months now. I’ve got to finish here and get back to the children.” She turned but tossed another small smile at him over her shoulder. “It was good to meet you”—she hesitated, and her face tinged a pretty pink—“John. Welcome to Nebraska.”
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