A Whole New Light

Zusatztext Praise for Sandra Brown A masterful storyteller. USA Today A novelist who can't write them fast enough. San Antonio Express-News Brown's storytelling gift [is] surprisingly rare. Toronto Sun Informationen zum Autor Sandra Brown is the author of more than fifty New York Times bestsellers, with over seventy million copies of her books in print. She and her family divide their time between South Carolina and Texas. Klappentext From the heat of an Acapulco night... Cyn McCall knew she could always count on her late husband's friend and business partner! Worth Lansing. He could make her laugh and forget her problems. She could tease him about his many romantic entanglements. The last thing Cyn expected was to find herself longing for a man who could never settle down. Chapter One Raisins, Cyn McCall realized, were actually nasty-looking things. "Brandon, please." "I like to do 'em this way, Mom, 'cause then you get to save 'em for last." Cyn shook her head and sighed with resignation. Her mother heard the sigh as she entered the sunny kitchen. "What's going on? What are you frowning at, Cynthia?" Ladonia headed straight for the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. "Your grandson is picking the raisins out of his bran flakes and lining them up around the rim of the cereal bowl." "How creative!" Cyn glared first at her mother, then at the puddle of milk that each misplaced raisin was dripping onto the table. "I was trying to correct him, Mother, not commend his creativity." "Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Again?" Her pause between the two questions wasn't accidental. It was Ladonia Patterson's subtle way of saying that her daughter's sour moods were recurring with unpleasant frequency. Cyn pretended not to catch the gibe as she blotted up milk with a dishcloth. "Eat your toast, Brandon." "Can I take it in the den and eat it while I watch Sesame Street?" "Yes." "No." The divergent responses were spoken in unison. "Mother, you know I've told him" "I want to talk to you, Cynthia. Alone." Ladonia helped four-year-old Brandon from his chair and wrapped the slice of cinnamon toast in a napkin. "Don't drop crumbs." She patted the seat of his pajamas as she ushered him through the door, then turned to confront her daughter. However Cyn got in the opening salvo. "This constant interference when I'm trying to discipline Brandon has got to stop, Mother." "That's not what this is about." Ladonia, slender, attractive, and fresh from her morning shower, squared off against her daughter across the breakfast table. Cyn didn't welcome the imminent parental lecture, but she could smell one brewing as well as she could smell the coffee. She gave her wristwatch a cursory glance. "I've got to leave or I'll be late for work." "Sit down." "I don't want to start the day with an argument." "Sit down," Ladonia repeated calmly. Cyn dropped into a chair. "More coffee?" "No, thank you." "You're not yourself, Cynthia," Ladonia began once she had sat down across from her daughter with a fresh mug of coffee. "You're uptight, edgy, out-of-sorts, impatient with Brandon. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were pregnant." Cyn rolled her eyes. "Put your mind to rest on that score." "What happened to your sense of humor? What's wrong with you lately?" "Nothing." "All right, I'll tell you." "I thought you would." "Don't get smart with me," Ladonia admonished, shaking her finger at Cyn. "Mother, let's not repeat this conversation this morning. I already know what you're going to say." "What am I going to say?" "That I'm not living a well-rounded life. That Tim's been dead for two years, but I'm still al...

Praise for Sandra Brown
 
“A masterful storyteller.”—USA Today
 
“A novelist who can’t write them fast enough.”—San Antonio Express-News
 
“Brown’s storytelling gift [is] surprisingly rare.”—Toronto Sun

Auteur

Sandra Brown is the author of more than fifty New York Times bestsellers, with over seventy million copies of her books in print. She and her family divide their time between South Carolina and Texas.

Texte du rabat

From the heat of an Acapulco night...
Cyn McCall knew she could always count on her late husband's friend and business partner, Worth Lansing. He could make her laugh and forget her problems. She could tease him about his many romantic entanglements. The last thing Cyn expected was to find herself longing for a man who could never settle down.

Résumé
From the heat of an Acapulco night...

Cyn McCall knew she could always count on her late husband's friend and business partner, Worth Lansing. He could make her laugh and forget her problems. She could tease him about his many romantic entanglements. The last thing Cyn expected was to find herself longing for a man who could never settle down.

Échantillon de lecture
*Chapter One

• Raisins, Cyn McCall realized, were actually nasty-looking things.

"Brandon, please."

"I like to do 'em this way, Mom, 'cause then you get to save 'em for last."

Cyn shook her head and sighed with resignation. Her mother heard the sigh as she entered the sunny kitchen. "What's going on? What are you frowning at, Cynthia?" Ladonia headed straight for the coffeepot and poured herself a cup.

"Your grandson is picking the raisins out of his bran flakes and lining them up around the rim of the cereal bowl."

"How creative!"

Cyn glared first at her mother, then at the puddle of milk that each misplaced raisin was dripping onto the table. "I was trying to correct him, Mother, not commend his creativity."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Again?" Her pause between the two questions wasn't accidental. It was Ladonia Patterson's subtle way of saying that her daughter's sour moods were recurring with unpleasant frequency.

Cyn pretended not to catch the gibe as she blotted up milk with a dishcloth. "Eat your toast, Brandon."

"Can I take it in the den and eat it while I watch Sesame Street?"

"Yes."

"No."

The divergent responses were spoken in unison. "Mother, you know I've told him—"

"I want to talk to you, Cynthia. Alone." Ladonia helped four-year-old Brandon from his chair and wrapped the slice of cinnamon toast in a napkin. "Don't drop crumbs." She patted the seat of his pajamas as she ushered him through the door, then turned to confront her daughter. However Cyn got in the opening salvo.

"This constant interference when I'm trying to discipline Brandon has got to stop, Mother."

"That's not what this is about." Ladonia, slender, attractive, and fresh from her morning shower, squared off against her daughter across the breakfast table.

Cyn didn't welcome the imminent parental lecture, but she could smell one brewing as well as she could smell the coffee. She gave her wristwatch a cursory glance. "I've got to leave or I'll be late for work."

"Sit down."

"I don't want to start the day with an argument."

"Sit down," Ladonia repeated calmly. Cyn dropped into a chair. "More coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"You're not yourself, Cynthia," Ladonia began once she had sat down across from her daughter with a fresh mug of coffee. "You're uptight, edgy, out-of-sorts, impatient with Brandon. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were pregnant."

Cyn rolled her eyes. "Put your mind to rest on that score."

"What happened to your sense of humor? What's wrong with you lately?"

"Nothing."

"All right, I'll tell you."

"I thought you would."

"Don't get smart with me," Ladonia admonished, shaking her finger at Cyn.

"Mother, let's not repeat this conversation this morning. I already know what you're going to say."

"What am I going to say?"

"That I'm not living a well-rounded life. That Tim's been dead for two year…