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Hardcover
First published March 1, 1995
“You mean me?” Richard Bradshaw filled the doorway.
Okay, a flourish of trumpets here. The hero has arrived. And because he was my hero long before I began writing this novel, ever since I can remember, in fact, my face grew hot. He was four years older now, of course, and shorter than I remembered, but I wasn’t six feet tall four years ago either. His eyes – I need the help of The Romance Writers Phrasebook Guide to describe those eyes:
–unfathomable in their murky depths?
No!
–shades of amber and green?
Maybe.
–dark gray-green-flecked eyes?
I don’t know. Maybe.
–hooded like those of a hawk?
Absolutely not! The hell with it. They were warm eyes. They were Richard’s eyes. I wouldn’t care if they were cone-shaped.