About the Book
Prequel to the McCade Legacy
Greenville, MS, Summer 1866
Miracle Johnson knows two things for certain: First, she grew up without a father, thanks to his obsession with The River Maiden, a 1860s Mississippi Riverboat. And second, the original owner of the River Maiden, Matthew McCade, was the devil-incarnate himself, a man who took advantage of the masses, pandered to their weaknesses, and—by reputation—bedded every woman in site.
Then why, when she’s accidentally transported back in time, and into the arms of this man she hates so much, does Miracle find herself unable to resist his legendary charm.
Struggling to acclimate herself in a time and place totally foreign to her, she vows to rid herself of the handsome riverboat owner, only to find herself in his bed, time after time.
Read an Excerpt
“Perhaps you could also explain how you know me, when I haven’t the slightest idea who you might be.”
“Well, Mr. McCade, I know you because I’ve read about you.”
“You read about me. Where, might I ask?”
“In my father’s notes mostly. You’re famous, or should I say you were famous.”
“I was, but I am not any longer?”
“No, actually you’re dead!”
“I most certainly am not dead!”
“Yes, you are, you…” Miri let her words trail off, at a loss for a reasonable explanation. “What year is this?” she asked instead.
“1866, of course,” he replied tersely.
Miri shook her head in disbelief. “It can’t be 1866.”
“I assure you it is 1866. August 15th, to be exact.”
“But that’s impossible,” Miri argued. “You’re dead. You died in…”
“Do I look dead to you, Miss Johnson?” His growing impatience was evident in his voice. He stepped closer. Harshly, he repeated, “Do I look dead to you, Miracle Johnson?”
Miri stared up into his face, at the strong jaw, the full sensual lips and into the depths of his eyes. “No,” she said finally. “You don’t look dead at all.”
Gently, he reached out and took her hand in his, pressing her open palm to his still damp chest. Miri could feel his thundering heartbeat as clearly as she felt her own. Taking one step forward, he threaded his fingertips through her hair and cupped the back of her head. He moved closer, his mouth hovering above hers, promising yet not delivering. Miri stood there, suspended somewhere between dream and reality, only to find herself surprisingly disappointed when he raised his head and backed away.
~ ~ ~
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