Don’t Wait Too Long
by Cate Masters
Tired of saying
‘yes’ when she should say ‘no’, Claire Sims is finally taking control of her
life. Or working on it. At fifty, she’s alone after 20 years of marriage, but is
ready to kick up her heels and dance. As a wife, she led a sheltered and lonely
existence, but a year of being widowed taught her how to love getting out in
the world by herself. She gave up hope of finding real love long ago, and for
her, marriage was all work and no fun. Not ready to give up her freedom, she
resists until a chance meeting with Kipling Baldwin. Easygoing, sweet, and
intelligent, he tempts her in many ways, but can she let go of her fears to
share her life with him?
Grief for his wife
blurred three years of Kipling Baldwin’s life. Putting himself out there is a
frightening concept, until he meets Claire. Her warmth and caring helps him
remember the guy he once was instead of the stodgy middle-aged man he is now.
He wants to become that guy again—for himself, and for Claire. Time’s precious
when it begins running out, and moreso when Kip finds someone who makes life
worth living again. But will Claire learn to trust him enough to let him in?
Don’t Wait Too Long
Contemporary romance novella (sweet heat
level)
ISBN: 9781311279965
Publish Date: 5/23/2016
About 46,000 words
Excerpt
An insistence rises
up within me. A growing buzz blocks out my thoughts except one: leaving. Everyone
seems to be pushing me toward marrying the first man who asks, though it’s the
last thing I want. Does anyone care what I want?
I care, dammit. I will not let anyone else control my
life. Not ever again.
My temple throbs
with a dull ache. I rub my eyes and for a moment, my vision blurs. The
surroundings seem to stretch away from me in an arc. Within the center of the
doorway, a figure appears and hesitates there.
Squinting, I strain
to clear my vision and get a better look at the newcomer. Somehow, I lock gazes
with the man. He crosses the dance floor as if aiming for me. Every detail about
him pops out at me. His dark hair. Black-framed glasses. Six feet of lean
muscle. Deep brown eyes that hold mine with a conspiratorial sparkle, as if he
knows all my secrets and desires.
I nearly snort. Now
that’s a fairy tale. Yet I can’t look away. It’s like a bad commercial for cologne,
the handsome man approaching the beautiful woman in slow-mo. Except I’m
middle-aged, not some barely-twenty model. And to think he could be interested
in me is ridiculous.
Beside me, Ernest
still talks, louder with each word. Like a bad dream that will not go away.
“Miss. I asked your name.”
The handsome man has
come within a few feet, and slows. This is the point in the commercial where he
sweeps the girl onto his horse, or motorcycle, or into his Maserati, and they
ride off into the sunset.
Then I see myself
as from a distance: standing awkwardly near the refreshment table. Of course,
he only wants a drink.
“I’m Claire Sims,” I
answer Ernest with resigned disappointment.
“Claire.” The tall
stranger’s sonorous baritone startles me as much as his use of my name.
I turn, and my
alarm grows. He’s smiling. At me. “How did you—”
“Get here?” He
glances at Ernest. “The repair shop finished my truck in time. I’ve been
looking for you.”
“You have?” Had I
accidentally clicked my heels three times and been transported over the singles
rainbow? Or fallen asleep and into a wonderful dream? No, because then he’d
have said he’s been looking for me all his life. And he wouldn’t be wearing the
silver band on his wedding finger.
