Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set by Cara Colter (best novel books to read .TXT) 📕

A shower helped her feel halfway human, but before she could sally forth to find herself some breakfast and buy a phone charger a knock sounded on the door.

‘Grocery delivery for Callie Nicholls.’

Owen had organised groceries for her? She’d been too beat to head out yesterday and find a store. She’d simply heated up a tin of soup she’d found in the pantry and made do with that.

The deliveryman set several bags on the kitchen bench and left again with a cheery ‘Have a nice day.’

She made coffee and toast, and was flicking through the newspaper when a second knock sounded. Another delivery—one she had to sign for. When she opened the package she found a phone charger.

For all his reserve, there was no denying that Owen was taking his duty to assist her seriously. She pulled her phone out and started to call him—and then stopped.

He’d probably be at work by now. She texted him instead.

Thanks for groceries and charger. Dinner on me when new c card arrives.

He replied promptly with a thumbs-up emoji. She waited, but that was it.

‘What more do you want?’ she murmured, shaking her head and setting her phone on the charger, doing what she could to push thoughts of Owen from her mind.

Last night she’d decided to spend the day at the New York Public Library. She was a researcher, she wanted to find out all she could about her family, and where was the best place to research anything? A library.

She fell in love with the Fifth Avenue building the moment she stepped inside its grand marble foyer. And it was a love that only grew as she climbed the grand staircase to the third floor and the Rose Reading Room—a room the size of a football field, with arched casement windows that flooded the space with light, row upon row of antique wooden desks, and murals on the ceilings she stared at so long her neck started to ache.

She happily lost herself in its depths for several exhilarating hours.

Frances’s family—her family—had links she could easily trace to sixteenth-century Europe. The family of Thomas—Frances’s first husband and Callie’s grandfather—was going to take a little more work, but she could already tell it wasn’t going to be impossible.

She wasn’t in the least interested in Frances’s second husband Richard, as he had no blood ties to her, but it was impossible to avoid the headlines and photographs of them in the social pages—especially of their wedding and subsequent divorce. The wedding pictures showed a lavish affair, with the happy couple beaming at the camera. Frances looked absolutely ravishing, and much younger than her forty-six years of age. While Richard Bateman, twelve years her junior, was movie-star-handsome.

Callie fanned herself. Way to go, Grandma.

The divorce, though, had been an acrimonious affair. From all accounts, Richard had been fundamentally incapable of fidelity. Callie winced at the far from flattering photo of Frances snapped only four years later, looking every inch her fifty years.

Maybe falling for jerks ran in the family.

Stop it. Her grandmother’s first marriage sounded rock-solid. Everyone was allowed one or two romantic mistakes in their lifetime. Unfortunately, Frances’s mistake had cost her several million dollars in the divorce settlement. At least Callie had only lost her job.

She stuck out her jaw. But not for long. Soon she’d have an even bigger, better, shinier job, and Dominic would be gnashing his teeth in envy.

And that would be perfect.

Returning to the apartment block mid-afternoon, she pushed open the door and a pint-sized dog, all cute honey-coloured fur, bolted from the foyer inside.

‘Oh, no, no, no…little puppy, wait!’ She pulled the door open wider, expecting to see the owner hurtling down the stairs after it, but nobody appeared.

‘Don’t even think about escaping,’ she told the dog in her sternest teacher voice, not relishing the thought of chasing it all the way across New York.

But no sooner had the dog relieved itself against a nearby railing than it dashed back past her and inside again to race up the stairs. Oh, well. At least it was toilet-trained.

A door on the next landing opened, but the dog didn’t pause. Callie called out a greeting as a woman emerged, but she only sent Callie a glare and returned inside, slamming the door behind her.

‘Wow, so the locals are friendly, huh?’ she muttered, setting off up the stairs. Still, this was a big city, not a country town where everyone said hello to each other.

She pulled up short when she reached the top floor and found the little dog sitting right outside Frances’s door.

‘Who do you belong to, little guy? Because you sure as heck don’t live here?’ There’d been no dog basket or water bowls in the apartment. He looked clean and well cared for, though, and he wore a collar. Someone in the complex must own him.

‘You’re lucky I like dogs,’ she told him. ‘Come in and have a drink and then we’ll see if we can find where you live.’

It was time to introduce herself to the neighbours anyway.

He drank deeply from the bowl of water she set on the floor, and groaned in delight when she scratched his ears and rolled onto his back for a tummy rub.

‘You’re a little charmer…’ she read the tag on his collar ‘… Barney.’ There was no accompanying address or phone number.

She unpacked the few things she’d brought home with her from the library—a book and some printouts—before turning back to her four-legged visitor.

‘C’mon, Barney. Let’s see if we can find out who you belong to.’

She scooped him up from where he’d settled himself on the sofa. Rather than squirm or struggle, he licked her hand and happily settled in her arms.

‘You’re so good,’ she cooed, tucking the key into the pocket of her jeans.

She decided to start on the fourth floor and work her way down. ‘Hello,’ she started brightly when a man answered the first door, ‘I’m just wondering