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The Finish Line
The Finish Line
The Finish Line
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The Finish Line

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Their one night together was a complete letdown, but Hilliard Griffin was still obsessed with her. When the woman he knows only as 'Anna' stumbles into his office ill, he accepts his fate. The problem is that Anna doesn't believe that they belong together. After she repeatedly rejects him, he decides to wait at the finish line for her to realize what true love is.

Motivated by grief, Anna turned to Hill for a one night stand. Only to find out that one night with him would haunt her for the rest of her life. A chance encounter brings Hill back into her life. Ruthlessly, she rejects him. Yet, the more she pushes him away, the more he shows that he believes she is worth waiting for.

Patience and trust are the foundations of Hill and Anna's. Sometimes love happens at first time, and it is beautiful. But, like Rome, some the truly extraordinary things cannot be built in a day.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 3, 2013
ISBN9781301444151
The Finish Line
Author

Josephine Kent

Josephine Kent is single, and a bit cynical, but, she's an ever hopeful, romantic. Having yet to meet Sir Lasting means that he could be anyone. While Josie'snot necessarily hunting for Mr. Lifetime Worthy, she knows that the world is full of awesome guys, and is enjoying the view as she wonders just what her own T. Love might really be like; and what type of woman could really love him.When she's not falling for the guy she happens to be writing about, the truest loves of her life are daily lunch dates with Bob Ross, cooking pretty petite edibles, and conversations with her six nephews. In her dreams she is a great mathematician, a budgeting diva, a do-it-yourself maven, and a bohemian fashionista. In reality, she's numerically dyslexic. She always ends up spending the money saved from budgeting. Her do-it-yourself fails are often epic. And she still hasn't quite mastered the art of mixing prints.If you'd like to contact her, please do so at JosieKentWrites@gmail.com or on her blog at http://josiekentwritesromance.blogspot.com. She'd love to hearfrom you.Please, feel free to leave comments when possible.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
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    Very sweet. No graphic sex. How love persists and waits for the person who needs to learn to overcome past grief to learn to trust and love.

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The Finish Line - Josephine Kent

The Finish Line

by Josephine Kent

Romance/Short Story

Smashwords Edition

Copyright ©2013 by Josephine Kent

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to my late grandfather, Joseph. He passed away in May, 2013 after nearly a century of 'living well'. Besides having been a beloved musician, writer, friend, and yes, a man who genuinely appreciated the ladies, my grandfather dearly loved his family. He lived to see four generations of his greatest legacy to the world. Unfortunately, while I inherited his talent for prose, the gene for music dodged me completely. Dada, if I could, I would listen to you sing and then laugh.

Prologue

Some part of her consciousness was telling her that she should be angry. That she should be hurt. Some part of her screamed that she should be grateful that Hilliard had left her bed before she had awoken to the inevitable awkwardness. Yet, as she gripped the note that bore his sprawling script, she was numb.

"Alexanna, thank you, it read. Just wanted to say goodbye. Hill."

Thank you, she mouthed the words as she climbed from her bed. She would not think about how she had reached out for her one time lover this morning, only to find the curt note which was written on a sheet of her own stationery. She would not think about the fact that he'd spelt her name wrong. It was Alezanna, not Alexanna. The one time she'd done something so foolish the guy didn't even know her name. She couldn't really say much because she didn't know his full name either. All she knew was that he was Hilliard. Maybe if she'd written a note she would have misspelled his name as well. She should forgive him for a slight she had no right to feel. But today wasn't the day for that.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would think about this; but today she would think only about how she was going to crawl out of her bed.

Chapter 1

A month to the day later, Alezanna was again sitting in the conference room of Griffin Hill International Bank when a sudden bout of nausea propelled her out of her chair. Desperately, she searched but there was no bin or bathroom in sight. Mortified at the thought that she would spew the contents of her stomach on the plush blue carpet of the bank, Anna ran into the hallway, jerked open the nearest door on her right and rushed to the bin beside the desk. Dimly, she was gratefully aware that the floor in this room was wood instead of carpeting.

There was something about the sight and smell of vomit that made Anna continue to heave and retch even after she had nothing left to spew. When someone thoughtfully gave her a bottle of water and instructed her to rinse her mouth, Anna thought the powerful hands were divine. And when the stranger knelt behind her and held her stomach tight until it stopped rebelling and her gagging was controlled, she decided even if he looked like a beast she would love him forever. When he gallantly lifted her to the plush executive chair and put a damp kerchief on her brow, before removing the bin and himself from the room, Anna began to bawl. Her tears began as a result of embarrassment over her weakness, but rapidly morphed into a much more treacherous emotion.

It was as if a dam had broken and all the grief that she had been unable to express over the past six months had somehow found an outlet. She folded her hands on the desk and sobbed bitterly into them, blinded by her heartache. The gentle hand that brushed her hair and back seemed vaguely familiar, and that made her cry even more. For the first time that she could ever remember, Anna cried. She cried for the curt note Hilliard had left her. She cried for her mother who had died of a heart attack while driving eleven years before. And for the father who, after fifteen years as a boxer, perished from an aneurism in his brain not long after her mother's death. But, she cried mostly for the beloved grandfather who had raised her, and succumbed to colon cancer only six months ago.

Though Lorin Dux had left all his earthly possessions to his granddaughter, his sole valuable possession amounted to a crumbling tower in the middle of a sea of exclusive hotels. And now, Anna was sick and puking all over the bank that she was trying to borrow from in order to retain and upgrade said tower. This bug that had been bothering her for weeks now wasn't going anywhere. She’d have to go see the doctor. And pay him. Finding the funds for that would require her to not only milk a stone, but make cheese from dust, because everything she had was tied up in that hotel.

Alexanna, come now. Whatever it is cannot be so bad as that. Tenderly, Hilliard brushed her hair from her brow. He had been staring out the window thinking about Alexanna Dux when the door to his office was abruptly shoved open. At first he had believed the intruder to be his assistant returning rather quickly from his smoke break. That was until he’d heard the retching and had turned to inquire about Kevin’s wellbeing. Imagine his surprise to see the woman who occupied his thoughts claiming cruel ownership of his trash can.

Now, he felt her shoulders tense as she recognized his voice. She looked up. Her expression of acute disbelief was swiftly replaced with horror.

Come, sweetheart, he said gathering her close and pressing her face to his chest. Somehow, she had found him, but he did not understand why she was reacting this way. At first she fought his hold, but by measured degrees the fight seemed to go out of her. She melted into his chest and cried like someone who had lost everything she held in the world. Instead of releasing her, he held her closer.

It was another five minutes before Anna was able to compose herself. Hill was there with his soaked gray shirtfront and now wrinkled jacket, pouring a cup of coffee for her. I’m sorry, Hilliard. I don’t know what came over me.

He looked at her over his shoulder. Looks like you needed to tear up for a bit, he said easily, trying to pass off her crying as nothing. Depositing the Blue Mountain brew before her, he settled into his chair across the desk. Want to talk about it?

Anna’s eyes flared wide. No. Nervously, she shredded the napkin he had given her. Somewhere along the way she had lost the kerchief. The scent of the coffee was making her nauseous again.

Taking note of her agitation,

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