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Once a Family
Tara Taylor Quinn
There's truth–and then there's love Sedona Campbell is an attorney who works with The Lemonade Stand, a unique women's shelter in California. She's called in to advise fifteen-year-old Tatum Malone, who claims she's been abused–by her brother, not her boyfriend. It's Sedona's job to sort out truth from lie. She soon discovers that's not an easy task, especially once she meets Tanner Malone. Because despite herself, she's attracted to him.Tanner has always protected his younger sister–but she's lying about him. And he's falling for Sedona. Between them, maybe they can figure out why Tatum's doing this. Maybe then he and Sedona will be free to love each other….
There’s truth—and then there’s love
Sedona Campbell is an attorney who works with The Lemonade Stand, a unique women’s shelter in California. She’s called in to advise fifteen-year-old Tatum Malone, who claims she’s been abused—by her brother, not her boyfriend. It’s Sedona’s job to sort out truth from lie. She soon discovers that’s not an easy task, especially once she meets Tanner Malone. Because despite herself, she’s attracted to him.
Tanner has always protected his younger sister—but she’s lying about him. And he’s falling for Sedona. Between them, maybe they can figure out why Tatum’s doing this. Maybe then he and Sedona will be free to love each other….
A war was raging inside Tanner
A war between guardian and man. His entire adult life had belonged to the guardian. Tonight, the man was fighting for life. He wanted these few minutes with Sedona. Wanted to relax and enjoy the peace she seemed to bring into every room she entered. Into every space she occupied—even outdoors.
He matched his pace to her more sedate one, listening to the waves. “So why are you telling me this?” he asked. She’d said she liked him.
“Honestly?” She kicked at the sand, sending it shooting in front of them. “I’m not sure.”
“Guess.”
“I like you.” She repeated what she’d said earlier, but with a deeper note in her voice.
“And that’s a problem?”
“It is if it gets in the way of my professional judgment.”
“So don’t let it.”
“I’m trying not to. But…”
Another surge of emotion hit him at that but and he waited for it to dissipate before saying, “What are you afraid of?”
She shrugged again. Her shoulders, accentuated by the thin cotton straps of her dress, seemed so feminine to him. So…in need of protection. “I guess I’m afraid you’ll like me, too.”
He bent his head. The move wasn’t premeditated. He touched his lips to Sedona’s and just…felt.
Dear Reader,
Life, in all its messiness, is a miracle. We have to be willing to stay on the ride, sometimes just holding on, when the road gets bumpy, in order to avail ourselves of the perfect moments.
And sometimes we need a safe place in which to take a time out.
The Lemonade Stand, Where Secrets Are Safe, is one of those places. The Stand is going to be around for a long time. You’ll have many opportunities to stay here with me. And to experience some perfect moments while you do—you know the kind, where you escape into a story, experience a whole other world, maybe find some meaningful tidbits that somehow apply to your life, all without leaving your chair.
I hope you’ll also see the perfection in the messiness. The value in the struggle. Families are tough. Maybe more than anyone else, we trust our family members to have our backs. To love us no matter what. And with that trust comes the capacity for great pain—if our trust is broken. If family members aren’t who we think they are. We can misunderstand each other. And we understand, too. We know that family is heart. And heart is the one thing we can’t ever completely walk away from.
So we run to a place like the Lemonade Stand, Where Secrets Are Safe and pain can be healed. Come on in. Get comfortable. And be prepared to find family and love!
I’m a spokesperson for the National Domestic Violence Hotline (www.thehotline.org (http://www.thehotline.org). 1-800-799-7233), and I also work with an organization called Chrysalis (www.noabuse.org (http://www.noabuse.org)). Chrysalis has several shelters and they offer certified counseling for victims and for abusers, as well as legal aid and financial aid for those starting over.
I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at www.TaraTaylorQuinn.com (http://www.TaraTaylorQuinn.com).
Tara Taylor Quinn
P.S. Watch for my new women’s fiction title, The Friendship Pact, coming from MIRA as an ebook this month.
Once a Family
Tara Taylor Quinn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
With sixty-six original novels, published in more than twenty languages, Tara Taylor Quinn is also a USA TODAY bestselling author. She is a winner of the 2008 National Reader’s Choice Award, four-time finalist for the RWA RITA® Award, a finalist for the Reviewer’s Choice Award, the Bookseller’s Best Award, the Holt Medallion and appears regularly on Amazon bestsellers lists. Tara Taylor Quinn is a past president of the Romance Writers of America and served for eight years on its Board of Directors. She is in demand as a public speaker and has appeared on television and radio shows across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. Tara is a spokesperson for the National Domestic Violence Hotline, and she and her husband, Tim, sponsor an annual inline skating race in Phoenix to benefit the fight against domestic violence. When she’s not at home in Arizona with Tim and their canine owners, Jerry Lee and Taylor Marie, or fulfilling speaking engagements, Tara spends her time traveling and inline skating.
For Rachel Marie Stoddard.
Let your spirit soar, sweetie.
Always listen to your heart. Be happy.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u49ed1293-0aeb-519d-acba-ee981de147e4)
CHAPTER TWO (#u966cb9fe-54b7-5ba6-8158-3f8a62f4700f)
CHAPTER THREE (#uaaf8a218-399b-5724-bfb5-06efe994cb8e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#udfc422ae-aef8-5b7b-b56b-dd6a1f25b6ad)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u340fe9dd-cdbb-5c60-aaf1-e9c31c537daa)
CHAPTER SIX (#u5cd7016c-7706-5c70-934c-1b09e6927616)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ub2f7d7b7-6e42-5e95-82dd-71f099407586)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u9c03ef25-cfc4-5280-b21a-7ec22005044c)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“HOW OLD ARE YOU, Talia?”
The tanned teenager, straight from the mold of California-model gorgeousness, looked Sedona Campbell in the eye. “Fifteen.”
Sedona believed her. “You told Lila McDaniels that you’re nineteen.”
The five-foot-five-inch blonde, with a perfect figure, perfect makeup and skin, wearing all black, looked about twenty-five.
And, at fifteen, on a Tuesday in the second week of April, she should have been in school.
“I didn’t want her to call the police. I’m not pressing charges.”
“You’re a juvenile. You claim you’ve been hit. The staff here have to notify the police. It’s the law.”
“Not if they think I’m nineteen and I say I don’t want the cops called. I checked. They don’t have to call for adults who don’t want the police notified, especially if they’re not getting medical attention.”
The law didn’t read quite like that. But the girl wasn’t wrong, either.
“They’d have to prove they had no way of knowing that you’re underage.”
The girl said nothing.
“They know you lied about your identity.”
Talia Malone, aka the juvenile sitting in front of her, slid down into the plastic chair on one side of the table in the small but private card room Sedona used as a makeshift office during her volunteer hours at The Lemonade Stand. Her gaze darted from the floor toward the edge of the table, and back again.
Sedona was not a psychiatrist, but as an attorney specializing in family law, specifically in representing women going through divorce or in need of protection orders, she was well versed in reading people.
“I’m here to help, Talia. You can trust me.” And here in the middle of a workday because Lila McDaniels, managing director of The Lemonade Stand—a one-of-a-kind, privately funded women’s shelter on the California coast—had phoned asking that she drop everything to tend to this situation.
Talia curled a strand of hair around her little finger. With a covert glance, she met Sedona’s gaze, but only for a second.
Sitting next to the troubled girl at the table, Sedona touched her hand. “I believe you were hurt,” she said, her tone compassionate, but professional, too. By the time she got to the victims, they needed help, not drama. “But I can’t do anything for you, no one here can, if you aren’t honest with us.”
Talia’s eyes were blue. Intensely gray-blue. They were trained on Sedona now.
And that emotional crack that opened sometimes, the one she’d never quite managed to close within her professional armor—an armor that hid a natural instinct to nurture—made itself felt.
“Why wouldn’t you agree to see the nurse?” Sedona tried another way in.
Talia shrugged.
“Do you have any injuries that need to be tended to?” Lila had already told her that Talia had refused to be examined by Lynn Duncan, the on-site nurse practitioner, saying she didn’t have anything wrong with her.
If Talia saw the health professional, and Lynn determined that there were injuries due to domestic abuse, California law would require them to report to the police or risk a fine at the very least. Lynn could risk her license.
And still, only about ten percent of California’s health professionals actually reported. For various reasons. Talia’s lower lip pouted. “There’s nothing right now.”
“Have you had injuries in the recent past?”
She nodded but didn’t elaborate.
And Sedona’s mind riffled through possibilities like cards on the old Rolodex her father used to keep on his desk when she was a kid.
Was this young woman on the run?
From one or both of her parents?
Another family member?
Or a nonrelative? A teacher at school?
Was the abuse sexual in nature?
