| Copyright © 2008, Sarita
Leone Reviews For LEGAL TENDER by Sarita Leone “To fulfill the terms of her grandmother's will, Lindy must live in the old woman's home, take over the business she began, and within a year, marry. She must also,though this is unstated, put up with Granny's ghost hovering around her. Lindy's main motive is to keep her witch of a cousin from getting the place, but soon, she finds herself wondering if there's a murder to solve and discovering romance might be part of her future, but with which of the men pursuing her? This book is fun. Granny's ghost is one that will keep a smile on your face. Though the plot is somewhat meandering, there is such charm to the narrative that you won't mind.” Reviewer Amanda Killgore “The book revolves around the seasons. In the early summer, strawberries are ready and in the fall the apples. In between, flowers bloom with Lindy's love life. Nothing is rushed which makes it enjoyable to watch the action unfold naturally. That doesn't mean the book is slow or nothing is happening, just that everything develops in a natural sequence. This is a great book to curl up with on a rainy/snowy day. It's has humor, love, mystery and a happy ending for everyone.” Terri, Night Owl Romance Reviews 5 Angels! “Legal Tender is the third book I have read by Sarita Leone. I enjoy her as a writer. She makes all her stories fun to read in addition to being easy flowing from page to page. I never have to worry about having a hard time finishing a book that Sarita Leone has written, which is a good thing. I can’t wait to see what Mrs. Leone comes up with next.” Reviewed by Cheryl, Fallen Angel Reviews “Love and life are too precious to waste” according to Granny’s spirit that keeps Lindy company and offers an abundance of advice – wanted and unwanted. Lindy-- hardworking, responsible, smart, and amiable-- is proving she can run the Walker’s Farm successfully, but she’s having a difficult time trying to meet the other condition of her grandmother’s will – finding and marrying a man within two years. There’s no shortage of good men. Hunter, Will, and Mike are all longing to further their relationship with Lindy. Each of them seems wonderful in his own way, yet Lindy cannot seem to commit to any one of them.Secondary characters like Jenna, the hateful cousin; Garrett, the crotchety old farm manager; Elvira Hill and her old bachelor son all add a wealth of emotions to the story, especially the subtle humor that enriches the drama of life that unfolds. The “Who Done It” part of Legal Tender intrigues and nudges the reader to turn the pages almost as much as the need to know who Lindy will finally realize is the love of her life. “Lindy-Loo” is a love and Granny is great. They make Legal Tender good reading that lifts the spirit.” Camillia, The Long And Short of It Reviews Sample Chapter For LEGAL TENDER
by Sarita Leone
‘A woman’s most tender time is in the spring. That’s the time for love.’ The familiar voice came from nowhere and filled Lindy’s mind like helium fills a balloon. For a second it was all Lindy could hear. She shook her head. Honey-brown curls pulled loose from the length of yellow ribbon holding them back from her flushed face and fell in soft rings around her cheeks. Brushing the back of one hand across her forehead, she looked up into the empty room. “Granny, you say a woman is at her most tender at the start of every season.” Her voice bounced off the walls of the warm kitchen and her words seemed to echo against the old-fashioned appliances and well-worn pine pieces that furnished the space. “You never miss the first day of a new season, do you? And why do you persist in sneaking up on me like that? You know it unnerves me.” With a mind to finishing her pie, Lindy bent to the task before her. Flour coated the table; a bowl of sliced apples mixed with cinnamon, lemon juice and honey and the empty pie tin presented enough of a diversion so she was instantly occupied. The ticking of the heating oven was the only sound in the room for a long moment. Lindy lifted the bottom crust and pressed it into the tin before dumping the apples on top of the crust and spreading them out with an old wooden spoon. Relishing the newfound silence, she began to roll a second lump of chilled dough into a thin layer for the top crust. Lindy studiously ignored the room and whatever—or whomever—it contained. Whether it could be seen or not. ‘I am not sneaking. A person has to have a body to sneak.’ The voice was insistent. ‘I’ve told you that time and again, haven’t I? I’m simply coming to you as I see fit, as I think you need me—and I think you might need me today, is all. What with that new fellow moving into the Dunham place down the road, my expert advice and insight might just be exactly what you need. And you are going to change your clothes before you go over there, aren’t you? You aren’t going calling dressed like that, are you?’ It was nearly impossible to hold her tongue at times like these. A voice inside Lindy’s head—this time her own—screamed so loudly she pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Part of her wanted to let the words out in a rush, to just say them and be done with it. But she’d been taught to respect her elders so she kept her opinions to herself. Too bad Granny wasn’t doing the same. She took her time pressing the top crust into place and crimping the edges of the delicate butter dough between her fingers. Honestly, you’re more opinionated now that you’re dead than you ever were when you were alive! Why can’t you just go off into the great beyond like everyone else does? Why can’t you just go quietly, like other grandmothers? With a sigh, Lindy slid the pie into the oven and set the ancient timer. She wiped the excess flour from the table, gathered up the measuring cups and bowls and dumped them into a sink filled with soapy water. Leaving the dishes to soak, she turned and headed for the stairs. She hadn’t planned on changing her clothes but she knew when she’d been outmaneuvered. “No, I’m not going like this. I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you when I go to call on the new neighbor.” Lindy tugged her flour-covered sweatshirt off as she went into the large bathroom. She shut the door behind her, knowing as she did so it would never keep the prying eyes—or tongue—of the house’s only other occupant out of the room if that occupant truly wanted to enter. Doors had become fairly useless in the Walker house. * * * * Dressed in a pressed pair of khakis and a sleeveless white cotton shirt, Lindy looked as if she had come from a luncheon rather than a full morning of farm chores. Aside from her rosy-tipped fingers there was no indication she almost single-handedly ran a strawberry supply operation and apple orchard. Lindy’s adjustment to the turn her life had taken these past months hadn’t been easy. Last year at this time she had been enrolled in business administration courses at Whitley College. She had been living in her own apartment, dating an interesting, if not terribly handsome, anthropology major and dreaming of spending her senior year in Europe. It had been one of the best times of her life and she’d assumed her future would continue along the path she’d so carefully mapped out. But everyone knows what’s said about the best laid plans. In Lindy’s case, it was unfortunately true. Her belief in days stretching endlessly in an orderly direction, her happiness growing with each success, couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything changed when her grandmother drove her vintage 1965 Mustang over an embankment. The fall hadn’t killed her adventurous, slightly wild grandmother. That would have been too ordinary for Granny Walker. No, the enraged bull who had considered the candy apple red car in his pasture an intrusion—he had killed her. He’d battered the little car—with Granny inside—until its sides were crushed and Granny was dead. The fact a ninety-one-year-old woman was driving a sports car on a winding country road was enough to make most people shake their heads in amazement. The knowledge her nosey grandmother was still capable of butting into her life, even beyond the grave, was the part that made Lindy’s head shake. As part of Granny’s will, Lindy had been forced to move into the old family farmhouse and work the thriving business Granny loved so much. The will stipulated Lindy was to continue supplying strawberries and apples to local markets and restaurants for at least two years. And—and this was the kicker as far as Lindy was concerned—she had to find a man willing to marry her within the same two year period. If Lindy didn’t meet all of the requirements of Granny’s will, the estate would pass along to her obnoxious cousin, Jenna. Truthfully, it wasn’t that Lindy was so desperate to keep the estate for herself—she just didn’t want Jenna to get her claws into any of it. They had been sworn enemies since they were in junior high school when Jenna had made it her sole mission in life to make certain Lindy never had a boyfriend. Deception, deceit and downright devilry were all weapons Jenna used to keep Lindy at home on weekends. Alone. Of course Jenna had never spent a weekend with only a good book for company. When they were teenagers she had been too busy going out with every guy Lindy even looked at, just for spite. Once Lindy moved to the city she was beyond caring who occupied her trashy cousin’s weekends. She’d even managed to forget she had a cousin named Jenna. Well, almost. But revenge…now, that was another matter. Lindy knew Jenna wanted the farm, not out of family obligation or love, but so she could sell it and walk away with a hefty profit. Everyone recognized Jenna’s greed—including Granny. So now it was Lindy’s turn to pay her cousin back for all she had done in the past. She was determined to satisfy the conditions of the will. That was one of the reasons for the still-warm pie that sat on the seat beside her. Lindy was doing a good job of running the business. Supplying produce to existing customers was easy enough. But the second part of the will’s demands? Finding a husband? That was proving to be the tough part. But Lindy had a plan—one whose focus was the new neighbor. That is, if the guy wasn’t so old and crotchety he made her skin crawl. Or stupid. She couldn’t abide ignorance so a dumb man wasn’t one she’d accept as husband material. Or, God forbid, if he had any vile—truly disgusting—habits. Then, she wasn’t going to give the new neighbor a second thought. But how could she tell after only one visit whether or not his habits were gross enough to chase her off? Bad habits could be hidden for a long time—maybe even years! Sighing, Lindy took one hand off the steering wheel and wiped it across her brow. She’d never figured finding love would be as ridiculously complicated as this. The aroma of the pie wafted up, making her mouth water. Her trepidation quieted. The pie. It was her secret weapon in the war on love. What better way to a man’s heart than through his stomach? Her pie was sure to be a hit, wasn’t it? And if that tactic failed she had a few others she could try, although she hoped she wouldn’t need to take the introduction any further than was absolutely necessary. In her heart she hoped Mike Forester liked pie. Lindy was better at baking than she was at seducing. After all, she’d had more practice in the kitchen. Shaking her head to clear the doubts cluttering it, Lindy drew a fortifying breath and turned into the lane leading up to the new neighbor’s house. Showtime. The old Dunham farm had been neglected for a long time and it showed. Shutters hung crookedly at the windows, roofing shingles were scattered about the weed-choked lawn and there was a hole in one of the wooden steps that led up to the paint-deprived front door. Lindy avoided the broken spot as she climbed the steps. She felt a sudden wave of hesitation. Maybe she should have called before she came all the way over here— “Hi.” The deep voice came from somewhere behind her. “Can I help you?” She turned quickly and teetered on the edge of the rotted boards, managing to hold onto the pie tin but nearly losing her footing. Strong hands on her arms saved her the horror of tumbling down the steps. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” Lindy looked up into a deeply tanned face that was an intriguing mix of angles and planes. He held her gaze with amber-flicked brown eyes. When he spoke, Lindy’s attention fell to his mouth. Showing sparkling white teeth and lips that looked inviting enough to make her legs wobblier than they already were, he gave her an apologetic grin. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Lucky you didn’t fall into the stairs.” She held the pie up between them and smiled. Her mouth felt as if she had eaten a bag of cotton balls but she spoke around the dryness. “That’s all right. Maybe I should have phoned before coming over.” “Wouldn’t have done any good. Phone won’t be installed until next week.” Now that the initial shock of nearly falling was past, she looked at her new neighbor with a keener eye. He was tall and heavily muscled, with a full head of thick black waves. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. His upper lip and chin were covered with bristly black hair that made her want to reach out and rub her finger along it to test its texture. “Oh. Then I’m glad I took a chance and just came on over.” She held the pie higher. “This, um, this is for you. It’s pie.” Lindy could have smacked herself. It’s pie? Brilliant. I sound like Rain Man. Chuckling, he took her offering without hesitation. As he sniffed the air above the pie crust, his grin became a smile. “Did you make this? It smells wonderful.” “I did. I used my own apples, from my orchard. I hope you like pie.” She knew it wasn’t exactly an earth-shattering conversation they were having but there was no helping it. A thin trickle of sweat trailed down her back as she tried to summon some spit to her desert-dry mouth and something witty from her suddenly empty head. An appreciative nod. “I do. Very much, thanks. I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name.” Raising a questioning eyebrow, the handsome man looked down at her with a widening smile. “Lindy Walker. From Walker’s Farm, just down the road a bit. You pass my place when you go into town.” Lindy hoped he couldn’t hear the hammering in her chest and pointed toward the rural road. It was empty except for an adventurous crow leaping along the unlined center like it played a solitary game of hopscotch. “I live that way.” “I’ve passed the signs. I know your place.” Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes slightly, he said, “Nice house…big house. Do you live there alone?” Lindy resisted the urge to laugh. Alone? With a loud-mouthed ghost in residence? Could anyone consider that living alone? “I do. I inherited the house from my grandmother last year. It is kind of big but you get used to it. At first I felt a little bit lost, but now I’m feeling more at home there. And this is a nice place to live. I think you’ll like it here.” She knew she was babbling but was powerless to stop it. Now that her mouth had begun to move it felt as if it was operating without any help from her brain. “I already do. Like it here, that
is. I’m Mike Forester, by the way. A transplant; I just moved
here from Vermont—Brattleboro, to be exact. Nice to meet you,
Lindy.” “Are you all right?” When
Mike frowned she noticed his eyebrows bunched together above his gorgeous
eyes. The observation made her heart skitter a second time, making Lindy
blink again. “Maybe you should sit down. Come on up to the porch
and have a seat. I’ll go get something cold to drink—it’s
pretty hot out here. Maybe the heat’s getting to you.” “Yeah, it’s got to be the heat,” he said as he put a hand beneath her elbow. Mike led her past the broken step and onto the wide porch. He guided her to a pair of antique wicker rockers. She let him keep his large, hot hand on her skin, despite the fact she was perfectly capable of seating herself, simply because she liked the tingly feeling she got from being so near his body. She could smell the masculine, sweat-and-sawdust scent of him and it made her blink several times in rapid succession. “I’ll be right back,” Mike said. “Don’t move, okay?” The screen door squeaked as he opened it and went inside, still carrying the warm pie. She could hear him banging around in the distance. ‘Yahoo, I think you’ve found one!’ crowed the voice inside her head. ‘And he’s a gentleman, too. Did you see the way he held your elbow like that? I had a fellow one time, back in the ’30s I think it was… Well, he held my arm like that in public, but in private—let’s just say he held more than my arm when we were alone. You get my drift, don’t you, dearie?’ Lindy scowled at the empty yard. Why couldn’t Granny’s presence be confined to the house, like a normal ghost? Why did she have to follow her wherever she went? It had gotten so she had virtually no privacy from the prying eyes that followed her everywhere. “Granny, go away!” Lindy whispered. “Can’t you see I’m busy? And I don’t need your help here, so just go away—before he comes back!” ‘You’re moving too slowly, that’s all I wanted to say,’ Granny insisted. ‘The whole looking-dazed-in-the-sunshine routine was good—for starters. You’re up on the porch but now you’ve got to get into the house and into his bed. Do you think maybe you can pitch a fit or something? Faint? Foam at the mouth? No, don’t do that. No foaming. He’ll think you’re a rabid raccoon and shoot your shy little self. Go for the fainting, that’s it. That’ll get you onto the sheets. Once you’re inside, I’ll help you figure out what to do next. I’ll—’ The sound of footsteps from inside the house grew louder. He was coming out! “Granny!” Lindy hissed. “Get out! I don’t need your help!” If he finds me here talking to myself he’ll think I’m a real nut case. Just exactly what I don’t need. The door squeaked open and Mike came toward her carrying two sweating bottles of Budweiser. She took one from him and flicked the dripping water onto the floor with a casual twist of her hand. “Thanks.” She took a sip and the icy liquid slid down her throat. It brought an instant grin to her face and cooled her somewhat. “It’s all I had. I’ve
got to go into town and do some shopping sometime soon. I can’t
go on eating corn flakes and beer forever.” He put his bottle
to his lips and drank. Lindy watched him, fascinated by the way his
thick throat moved as he swallowed. She thought she could have watched
him drink for much longer, but he tipped his head up and spoke. “It is. Just me and…me.” Yeah, right. “And you’re the one who supplies the local markets and restaurants with strawberries and apples, aren’t you?” “How did you know that? I didn’t tell you about the crops, did I?” She knew she hadn’t said anything about herself yet. She had been too tongue-tied. “No, you didn’t tell me.” He grinned, looking like a mischievous school boy. “I did some checking of my own.” Her heart tripped over itself. She felt her palms begin to sweat and the hair on the nape of her neck tingled. Checking? On me? “What sort of checking did you do, Mike?” Lindy made herself speak as if she wasn’t feeling any of the emotions suddenly coursing through her body. It was difficult to sound calm when she wanted to reach over and grab him, but she managed to do it. It was unexpected, completely out of character, but she had been fighting the urge to touch him since he had settled into the rocking chair next to hers. She couldn’t help but wonder if Granny had any idea how hot Mike made her feel. She had a feeling dear old Granny knew everything, and was probably doing a joyful waltz—or maybe a Texas two-step, that was more Granny’s style—in the ghostly dance hall over the news that her granddaughter had finally found a man who made her blood boil. “I checked you out—a little.” Mike fiddled with the label on his beer bottle, then he sat forward in his chair and leaned closer. His face was inches from hers before he spoke again. “I learned an awful lot about you, actually. If you hadn’t come calling on me, I was going to visit you. You and I are going to be close. Very close. Believe me, we’re going to be seeing an awful lot of each other. There’s nothing we can do to change it, either. Not,” he added as he settled back in the rocker, “that I want to keep it from happening. No, I don’t want to slow any of it down. If anything, I’d like to speed up the relationship we’re going to have. Yes, I’d like to just move on to the next step already, if we can.” Heat cooled as his words swept an arctic chill over her. She had no idea what he was talking about but it didn’t surprise her that Mike had shown his fault. He wasn’t old, crotchety or stupid. He didn’t have any disgusting habits that she could see. Any of those things she might have made an exception for in his case. But this? There was no overlooking it. The guy was unbalanced. Certifiable, probably. They’d just met and he was going on and on about a relationship? A next step? She didn’t have any idea what he meant and that could only mean one thing. Yeah, he was crazy. Only a sandwich short of a full picnic, probably, but still…on a picnic every sandwich counts. |