Today is a day of change for Cancer, the beginning of a journey.

A phone call will change your life forever. Take your fate as it comes. Love can be found in the most unexpected places.

Family awaits you. Go to them to find your peace.

Do not look a gift horse in the mouth. What seems a blessing may be your doom, what seems your doom may be a blessing.

Wrinkling her brows, Belle read the last line of the horoscope again. Her doom? Hell. She hoped not. It was a good thing she didn’t put much stock in such things.

She shook her head and deleted the message. It had been a truly boring night when she’d come upon the astrology site while surfing the net, and signed up for the daily horoscope emails on a whim. If anything, they gave her something to read when her inbox was otherwise empty. These days, that happened all too often.

Clicking out of her email, she signed off the Internet and shut down her laptop. Shutting the lid, she patted her hands against the oak kitchen table. What would she do today? She just didn’t feel like working. She loved writing. Since Grandma had passed on, her characters had been her family. But hell, it was beginning to get pathetic. They were living her life for her at times. She needed to get out there. Meet someone. If she couldn’t have family, at least she could have friends.

She stood, and stretched her body. What to do...?

Ring, ring. The phone made her jump in surprise. Who the hell could that be? More than likely another telemarketer ignoring the National ‘Do not call’ list.

Or maybe the horoscope was coming true. She laughed. Right, that could happen.

Ring, ring.

She’d better answer it before the machine. Jumping up, she grabbed the black phone from off its hook above the microwave. “Hello?”

“Yes,” a man cleared his throat. “I’m trying to reach a Ms. Garret? Belle Garret?”

Lifting a brow, she wondered at his deep southern accent. Smooth, like velvet, his words poured out like syrup over pancakes. Not like the usual fuzzy or foreign, downright impossible to understand telemarketer. Yet, who else could it be?

“Speaking. But if you’re selling anything, up front, I’m not interested.”

“No, Ma’am.” A professional tone made her believe him. “My name is Harold Banks. I’m the lawyer for the Lander estate.”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Skepticism crept into her voice. This had to be some sort of scam. She started twisting the phone cord around her hand in impatience.

“Hmm. Yes, yes. There has been some confusion. I’m afraid you, your mother or Grandmother actually, should have received this phone call quite a long time ago.” She heard a shuffle of papers. “Perhaps I should explain. Do you have a moment?”

Wait ... oh hell. She dropped the phone cord from her hand as it clicked in her brain. Grandpa and Grandma’s last name had been Lander. Could this guy be for real? “Yes, please.”

“My great grandfather, Isaiah Banks, was Charles Landers’ lawyer. Executing the will has become a bit of an unfortunate family tradition for the Banks. It seems ... well ... let’s start at the beginning. In 1822 Charles Lander married a very young bride, Rose. Shortly after the wedding, Rose became pregnant and he changed the name of his plantation to Rosewood. It’s unknown why, but Rose suddenly left Charles at four months pregnant. She gave birth to Henry Lander, your great, great grandfather. I could rattle on with the family history, but we’ll get to the point. When I succeeded the job of seeing this estate, your great aunt Mary was the next in line to inherit. She did. However, shortly after I gave her the keys, she disappeared. Her car was found in the drive, the keys still in the ignition. That was seven years ago and no one has seen or heard from her since. I’m afraid it slipped past me a while. Your Grandmother or Mother could have, well, it’s inconsequential.” He paused a moment, clearing his voice from obvious embarrassment. “The point is, you, my dear, are the very last Lander heir.”

“Heir?” Stunned, she tried to process the load of information he’d just dumped on her. She didn’t even know she had an Aunt Mary. Grandmother had never spoken of any of this. Not even a hint of it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, my dear. If you are Belle Garret, then you are the heir I’m in search of.”

She drew a deep breath. “What ... what ... did I inherit?” she stuttered, so sure it was too good to be true. It had to be nothing. She’d probably inherited more bills, since she’d didn’t have enough burying her alive.

“The Rosewood Plantation, and substantial funds. Let’s see ... I’ll give you an exact number here.” She heard him shuffling papers again. “Ah, yes. On the last statement, you had four hundred, ninety eight thousand, five hundred and ninety-eight dollars and two cents in a mutual fund with...”

Oh hell. Belle dropped the phone. It hit the tile floor with a loud clatter. She sank to her knees, too amazed, too shocked. Numb, she couldn’t move. She just stared at it as her mind reeled.

Her romance novels made her okay money. But with her college loan, and the hysterectomy she’d had, she was about to lose Grandma’s house. This would fix everything. This would give her the money to adopt.

Could it be true?

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

Her hands shook as she picked back up the phone and fixed the battery.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

“I’m here.”

Chapter One

Belle cranked up the radio. Country music blared from her old Volkswagen Bug as she sped down the dirt country road. She sang along, loud and out of tune. Her left hand hung out the window, beating on the car door to the tune of the song. It wasn’t her usual rock station. That wouldn’t come in out here. Somehow though, country just felt right.

It was hot tonight. In California it was never like this. Muggy. Humid. Sweaty. It was going to take some getting used to South Carolina. She hoped the house had air conditioning. But of course it did. Rich people had air conditioning.

How much farther could it be?

It was hard to see in the dark. The trees lining the road made it even worse. Banks had said about five miles until she reached the drive. Two stone markers would mark the drive where a gate used to be. She glanced into the passenger seat and looked at the map he’d given her. They should be right about here. Where were they? She looked up and--

She slammed her foot on the brakes hard as she could. But it was too late.

It happened so quickly, the wheels squealing, the glass shattering. She tried to brace herself, but she’d been going too fast. Her last, dumb thought blinked into her mind as her head went crashing into the steering wheel. She’d found the markers.

Then the black took over.

* * * *

Mercy. Noah stood, hands at his side, and stared numbly at the wrecked car. He pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. This was the very last Lander.

Walking around the side of the car, he surveyed the damage. The front of the yellow Volkswagen twisted around the stone marker, the metal mangled. Shards of glass from the windshield scattered everywhere for three feet.

Bending, he peered in the window. She was so young. Beautiful too. A doll face, just like Rose, from what he could tell in the dark. The impact must have thrown her forward, then backward. Lying in the seat, her eyes were closed. Thick, dark red blood oozed from a large knot on her head. Her nose trickled the sticky liquid, but it didn’t look broken. At least she’d been wearing her seatbelt so she didn’t get thrown. That would have been a mess.

Again he shook his head. Such a damn shame.

Money did that to people.

He thought about helping her as he had Mary. But the rear of her car hung into the road. The front of her car had barely made it over the property line, and the passenger door was smashed in. He didn’t like just leaving her, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t cross the property line.

She would make it just fine. There wasn’t anywhere else for her to go.

He turned slowly and started his slow, meandering walk back down the lane.

* * * *

A bright, bright light shined through her eyelids, so brilliant and yellow she had to turn away. It was giving her a headache. She jerked around again, trying to escape it.

A sudden, sweeping vision of the crash flooded her mind. She gripped for the steering wheel and slammed the brakes as she screamed out.

Her mind snapped awake, and she jerked up. Oh hell!

What the--? Shit. Black surrounded her. What happened to the bright light that woke her up? Her head thumped, stinging with pain. Reaching up, she felt the knot on her forehead. Her hand came back covered in sticky blood. Oh man, it was bad. She needed stitches. She had to get out of here. Get to a phone or something.

Fumbling for the handle, she yanked it and swung open the door. Light from the interior flooded the dark. She grabbed the keys, her purse and laptop, and then paused. She had a flashlight in the glove box. Leaning back in, she pulled out the slim metal flashlight and pushed the switch. Nothing. The batteries were dead. Damn. Just great.

Blood trickled in her eyes and she swiped it away. She had to get to the house. She stepped out, and nearly jumped out of her skin. She sucked in a fast, deep breath. From the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a woman sitting in her seat.

She bit her lip. She must have a concussion or something screwing her mind up. She reached up to the knot. Funny though, the pain had faded to a point where she almost felt none. Only when she thought about it did it start to sting. Maybe she had hit a nerve or something.

She had to get to the house. Leaving the car door open to give her at least a touch of light, she headed down the lane. On either side of the long lane, twisted trees reached out with their long limbs like monsters trying to grab her. In this dark, it was impossible to see the green, lush leaves she was sure covered them. Instead, they looked like skeletons. Dead. Haunted.

A shiver crept down her spine. Fear turned her stomach over, constricting in her. She wanted to stop, to stand there paralyzed. At the same time, she wanted to run, to get to the house as fast as possible. It was as terrifying to be out there as much as it was to move.

An owl hooted in the distance. In her mind, she saw it swooping down upon an innocent mouse. Was she, too, some terrorizing monster’s prey?

Banks had said the lane was long, but this was ridiculous. She started to think about her Aunt Mary. Something had happened to her out here. What? What had taken her away? Did the same fate await her?

She bit her lip as tears streamed down her face. She should have never, ever come out here at night. She should have gone to a hotel as Banks suggested.

Or better yet, sold as Banks had repeatedly recommended. Discovering her family had driven her out here and stolen her patience. But she had so desperately wanted to taste her heritage. Just to touch where her ancestors had touched. To sleep in a bed, knowing they had too.

Truth be told, somewhere deep inside her, she had hoped she would find someone, anyone, she could clutch as her family. A distant cousin or long-lost aunt. She had lost everyone. Her parents, her Grandma, only to find out she could have no children of her own. Sometimes she just felt so very alone in life.

It was too late now. She was here and couldn’t turn back.