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Holly, by Jude Deveraux
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A relentless campaign by phone, letter, and email has persuaded Hollander Latham's parents to purchase the home of her dreams: Spring Hill, a beautiful North Carolina plantation where Holly spent her memorable thirteenth summer. Now a successful architect, Holly is intent on reuniting with Spring Hill's neighbor and her love from that long-ago summer, wealthy heir Laurence Beaumont -- she dreams of working her way into Lorrie's heart while restoring his historic estate, Belle Chere. But as Christmas fast approaches, Nick Taggert -- a mysterious stranger who makes her laugh and tempts her with a surprising passion -- turns her plans upside down. One man can seduce her with fortune and privilege; the other can promise her the simple gift of love. And on a frost-covered Christmas night, Holly's choice will unmask astonishing truths and hidden dangers -- revelations that will forever change her charmed life and her vulnerable heart.
- Sales Rank: #1469524 in Books
- Brand: Pocket Star
- Model: 1668415
- Published on: 2005-11-01
- Released on: 2005-10-25
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.75" h x 1.20" w x 4.19" l, 3.00 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 336 pages
- Great product!
Review
"Deveraux's touch is gold..."
-- Publishers Weekly
About the Author
Jude Deveraux is the author of more than forty New York Times bestsellers, including Moonlight in the Morning, The Scent of Jasmine, Scarlet Nights, Days of Gold, Lavender Morning, Return to Summerhouse, and Secrets. To date, there are more than sixty million copies of her books in print worldwide. To learn more, visit JudeDeveraux.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Holly felt as though she'd pulled off the coup of her life -- and by Christmas it would all be settled. After many calls, letters, emails, and promises, she'd finally persuaded her parents to buy Spring Hill Plantation just outside beautiful, historic Edenton in eastern North Carolina. Of course, it hadn't hurt that her stepsister, Taylor, was going to marry a man who lived there.
Now, she was in the little grocery store that was two miles down the road from the ghastly house her parents had rented last year and she was trying to find something to eat that didn't have a thousand calories a bite. She'd recently lost eleven pounds and she didn't want to put it back on. Facing a summer near her skinny, beautiful stepsister had made her quit eating and go to the gym four nights a week.
And of course there was the prospect of seeing Lorrie again, she thought. For a moment her eyes glazed over as she remembered him. She was no longer seeing the store, but instead, saw the river and the dock and Lorrie. She'd been thirteen that summer and Lorrie had been sixteen -- a tall, lean, bronzed young man, with golden hair and brown eyes.
That summer had started out horribly. Her parents nearly always rented a house somewhere for the summer, but until that year the houses had been in communities where their two daughters could swim and meet other people their own age.
But that summer a friend of her father's had offered them the free use of his beautifully restored old house, built in 1778, located on a river, and set in the midst of four and a half acres of old trees and pretty flower gardens.
Holly had hated the place at first sight. Its isolation, the remoteness, had made her want to scream. In an instant she'd envisioned a summer in a hell of loneliness. Taylor was old enough to drive so she'd be going to nearby Edenton and joining the real world.
But what am I to do here the whole summer? she thought, near to tears. Catch tadpoles? Sit by the river and watch the turtles come up for air? It wasn't what a pubescent girl wanted to do.
She'd tried to persuade her parents that they absolutely, positively could not force her to stay in that horrible place for an entire summer. They'd just smiled, then answered the always-ringing telephone.
For the first week, Holly had been so bored she thought she might lose her mind. Her parents had already left to fly to London, and Taylor had met a young man. Holly had been left in the charge of a woman who was at least as old as the house and who did little except sleep in the padded swing on the back porch.
It was at the beginning of the second week that Holly had been sitting on the edge of the pier, her legs tucked up to her chest, and contemplating her family's regret if their youngest child ran away from home, when she heard an unusual noise. She looked up to see a rowboat coming toward her.
She had to blink, then rub her eyes and blink again to be sure she was seeing correctly. Coming toward her, his back to her, was a beautiful, shirtless young man. She couldn't see his face, but if the front of him was half as good as the back of him, he was an Adonis.
Holly had stood up, smoothed her shorts and T-shirt -- wishing she weren't wearing her rattiest clothes -- and waited.
When he reached her dock and turned, he was so beautiful that her breath nearly stopped.
"Hello," he'd said, throwing a rope at her feet. "I'm Laurence Beaumont and I'm your next-door neighbor. You want to tie that down?"
She had no idea what he meant. Tie what down?
"The rope," he said. "Tie it to the cleat."
It had taken her a moment to understand what he meant. Cleat? Oh, yeah, the thing she used to scrape mud off her shoes. She picked up the rope and tied it in a very neat bow to the metal cleat, then looked over at the young man.
He looked at the cleat, then back at her, but he didn't laugh. Later, she wondered at that. What other sixteen-year-old would have looked at a boat rope tied into a bow and not howled with laughter?
But Lorrie hadn't laughed at her, not then, nor at any other time.
From that first moment, they'd been friends -- kindred souls maybe, since they were so alike. Her name was Hollander, his was Laurence, but they were Holly and Lorrie to everyone. His family had lived in the same house since 1782 and two of his ancestors had signed the Declaration of Independence.
Holly had some big-shot ancestors on her father's side, and her father himself had been an ambassador to three different countries. "He knows everybody and talks to each one every day on the phone," she'd said under the breath.
Lorrie had laughed. "My old man makes deals all day."
"What about your mother?"
"Died when I was three."
Holly felt as though she'd been hit in the stomach. Her mother had died when she was one. When she told Lorrie, he sat down on the dock and they began to compare notes of their lives in earnest.
Both their fathers had been raised in impoverished gentility, with fabulous educations and old-world family names. Both fathers had married heiresses who'd died young. Both men had remarried women with no money. The difference was that Holly's stepmother, Marguerite, was a sort of financial genius, while Lorrie's stepmother's main talent was in spending. Holly's mother's fortune, from Hollander Tools, had increased, while Lorrie's mother's fortune had long ago disappeared.
"All I have left is the title to the falling-down old house and a few hundred acres," Lorrie had said cheerfully, looking at Holly. "What is it about you, kid, that's making me tell you my life story? I didn't tell my last three girlfriends this much."
Holly hadn't liked being called "kid," and she didn't like to think that this beautiful young man had ever had a girlfriend, but she took the compliment to her heart. "I guess we were just meant to be together," she said, willing him to take her away forever in his canoe.
Smiling, Lorrie tousled Holly's short, dark hair. "Maybe so, kid. Maybe you're what I need this summer. Hey! I'll race you to the other side of the river."
Holly wasn't a very good swimmer, but by the end of that summer she was, for she spent nearly every day with Lorrie. Although Lorrie had revealed lots of secrets about his past, she soon found out that he was close-mouthed about his current life. It was only through listening to the gossip her stepsister so loved that she knew Lorrie was hiding out that summer.
"The biggest snobs in eastern North Carolina," Taylor had said at dinner. She was talking about the Beaumont family. "They've lived here since George Washington surveyed the area and even have a few letters from him. But seventeen years ago, the family was broke, so Laurence Beaumont the second married some rich little heiress and she conveniently died three years after having Larry the third."
As always, Taylor had been oblivious to the emotions her careless words caused. Their father had also married an heiress who died young.
"Lorrie, not Larry," Holly said and immediately wished she could take the words back. Her father, her stepmother, and her stepsister paused to look at her in surprise.
"The cook works for them sometimes," she muttered, looking down at her food.
Taylor gave Holly a speculative look before returning to her gossip. Taylor was as gregarious as Holly was quiet. Taylor loved being in a crowd, while Holly wanted just a couple of girlfriends to pal around with.
Taylor had gone on to say that Lorrie -- "silly nickname for a boy," she'd said -- was supposed to have gone to some elegant summer camp, but at the last minute one of his father's stupid land deals fell through so there was no money. "The kid doesn't want any of his rich friends to know, so he's hiding out at his father's family's rotting old house. Have you seen him?"
It took...
Most helpful customer reviews
50 of 55 people found the following review helpful.
If this wasn't a Jude Deveraux book...
By A Customer
I would have thrown it across the room! Really.
Stupid characters in books annoy me - and Holly really takes the cake. Supposedly she's a "prude" but actions speak louder than words:
1. Falls into a pit and strips down to her panties to attempt to make a rope to get out.
2. Has sex with a stranger approx. less than one hour after meeting. Within approx four hours has sex another three times with same stranger who doesn't learn her first name until after she leaves.
3. This same stranger finagles a job at her Dad's house, as a gardner, to get closer to her - which to me would yell "stalker" but to her it just says "Run out into the yard and have sex against a fountain."
4. Is in the attic of a house that doesn't belong to her, going through someone else's papers, and decides to disrobe down to her underwear because she's hot.
Okay, I've just got to stop there otherwise I could just go on until I ran out of the maximum word space. But you get the idea. She's an idiot and just a bit of a tramp.
I love Jude Deveraux. I've read all her books. The amount of sex in them has never bothered me before but this is really going overboard. I was literally skipping pages and *still* coming to sex scenes! Honestly, I couldn't tell you what the story was about because it was basically just two people having a lot of sex.
(...) if the story doesn't stand up without all the sex, perhaps it's not that good of a story to begin with.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
I know I'll enjoy every word
By helen
Whenever I pick up a book written by Jude Devereau, I know I'll enjoy every word. Holly was the same.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Too explicit
By Book Worm
Fairly good story, but I really don't need description of sexual desires.
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