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Convinced everyone deserves a happy ending, this hopeless romantic is out to make it happen one story at a time. When she isn’t writing or indulging in chocolate (dark and decadent, please), Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller.
Shanna is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, Romance Writers of America, Sweet Romance Reads, Cowboy Kisses, and Pioneer Hearts.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m not going with you today.” Marnie fisted her hands on her hips and blocked his entrance to her room.
“Yes, you are. Put on your hat and let’s go.” Lars nudged her aside then brazenly strode to her closet and pulled out the hat he liked the best, a cream curved-brim hat with cream and pink silk roses that matched the gown she wore. “Put that on.”
“No.” Marnie leaned against the dresser and glowered. “And you can’t bully me into doing what you want, Lars Thorsen.”
“Maybe not, but I can ask nicely.” Lars lifted one of her hands and kissed the back of it, keeping his hot blue gaze pinned to hers. He saw the shift in her eyes as the shutters lifted. The frown she wore softened on a sigh and he knew he had her.
After kissing her other hand, he moved on to her right cheek, then her left, followed by her nose. “Will you please accompany the children and me to church? Even if you won’t do it for me or yourself, do it for those two youngsters. They’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.”
Marnie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking, what you’re doing.”
“I’m fully aware of what I’m doing.” Lars momentarily forgot about Easter, the Webster kids, and everything else as his attention focused on Marnie’s lips. He lowered his head and kissed both corners before gently caressing her mouth with his — teasing, enticing, pleading. “Please, sweet thing? Please go with us?”
Nearly undone by Lars’ tender kisses, Marnie snatched the hat from his hand and positioned it on her head. Jabbing in a hatpin, she rammed her fingers into lacy cream gloves and grabbed a reticule she saved for special occasions.
Pointing to the door, she shook her head. “Arguing with you is utterly pointless.”
“Yep. Glad you figured that out.” Lars’ wicked grin made her smile and she held his hand as they descended the stairs. “One way or another, I always get what I want.”
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