Author: Sharon Sala
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Date of publication: May 2017
She’s never had a home
Growing up in a troubled foster home, Mercy Dane knew she could never rely on anyone but herself. She’s used to giving her all to people who don’t give her a second glance, so when she races to Blessings, Georgia, to save the life of an accident victim, she’s flabbergasted when the grateful town opens its arms to her. She never dreamed she’d ever find family or friends—or a man who looks at her as if she hung the stars.
Until she finds peace in his arms
Police Chief Lon Pittman is getting restless living in sleepy little Blessings. But the day Mercy Dane roars into his life on the back of a motorcycle, practically daring him to pull her over, he’s lost. There’s something about Mercy’s tough-yet-vulnerable spirit that calls to Lon, and he will do anything in his power to make her realize that home isn’t just where the heart is—home is where their heart is.
A Piece of My Heart is the 4th book in the Blessings, Georgia series. I have been a fan of this series from the beginning. Each one of them can be read as a stand alone as they deal with different characters and different story arcs. For the most part, I enjoyed this one. It's a sweet story about finding home and a place to belong.
I thought Lon and Mercy's love story was really sweet and definitely put a smile on my face. Although, it was a little fast for me. There is a lot packed into this book and some of my favorite characters from the Curl Up and Dye salon make an appearance. While not my favorite of the series ( that would be book #2), it was definitely entertaining and worth picking up. For a sneak peek, check out the excerpt below!
Excerpt:
Chapter 2
It was nearing daylight when her cell phone began to ring. She
rolled over and grabbed it as she turned on the lamp. “Hello?”
“This is Mildred Starks from the National Rare Blood Registry. Am I
speaking to Mercy Dane?”
“Yes,” Mercy said, as she threw back the covers and stood up.
“Ms. Dane, we have an emergency in your area. This is an unusual
situation, and we’re asking something out of the ordinary. Can you respond
directly to the hospital in need?”
“Yes. Where do I need to be?” she asked, as she began grabbing
clothes.
“You still reside in Savannah, Georgia, and are there at this time?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. There is a small town about an hour south of you called
Blessings. There’s no chopper available to fly you there and no time to donate
in Savannah and then have it transported. Do you have transportation to get
yourself to Blessings?”
Now her hands were shaking as she realized the reality of someone’s
life would lie partially in her ability to get there. “Yes. Where do I go?”
“The town is small. There’s only one hospital. I’m sending GPS
directions to your phone. Time is crucial. Be safe and Godspeed.”
“On my way,” she said, and dropped the phone on the bed as she took
her biker gear out of the closet. Within five minutes she was out the door, her
helmet in one hand, keys in the other.
The sun was only a hint on the eastern horizon as she left the
complex. According to her directions, she was to take I-16 west, then connect
to I-95 south. She wasn’t far from a feeder road that would take her to I-516,
which then turned into I-16, so she took that route.
It was early Christmas morning and traffic was sparse. Sunrise was
minutes away when she finally hit I-16, and by that time she was flying. Every
mile behind her put her closer to Blessings. It wasn’t the first time she’d
been called upon to donate her blood, but it was the first time she’d been
asked to go to the person in need. It amped the urgency to a fever pitch,
making her part in it personal.
Once she hit I-95 southbound, the northbound lane was a black ribbon
of flickering headlights, while she and the Harley became a two-wheeled version
of earthbound flight.
She rode with single-minded focus, keeping an eye on the traffic
while making sure she didn’t get caught in the draft of passing truckers. And
when the new sun was just high enough in the east that she could see the
landscape through which she was passing, the glimpses of houses led her to
imagining what might be going on within the walls—because it was Christmas Day.
Surely joyful families were opening presents and eating breakfasts.
She pictured turkeys already in the oven, pies already baked and lining
sideboards and tables, and the dough for homemade hot rolls in big crockery
bowls, covered and rising in a warm place on the counter. Unfortunately, that
scene was nothing but her imagination because she’d never experienced anything
like it. But the closer she got to Blessings, the more she realized there was
no time to dwell on what she didn’t have. Today, it was what she did have—an RH
negative blood type—that mattered most.
She’d been on the interstate forty-five minutes when she reached the
exit that would take her to her destination. According to the directions she’d
received, Blessings was less than fifteen miles ahead. The roar of the engine
beneath her was all she could hear as she leaned slightly forward into the ride
and accelerated.
And just as she rode past the city limits sign, she came upon a
roadblock and a long line of cars blocking the highway with rescue vehicles up
ahead. Her heart sank. She didn’t know it was the aftermath of the wreck that
had caused the injuries to the person in need of her blood. But waiting around
for permission to pass was not on her agenda.
She rolled out around the last car in line and kept moving forward.
When she reached the accident site, she rode around two tow trucks, then took
to the ditch to get around a couple of police cars and one highway patrol.
Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she saw them
shouting and trying to wave her down. She’d never outright defied a lawman in
her life, but these were extenuating circumstances, and so she kept moving
until she was beyond the roadblock and heading into town.
She knew she was speeding, but traffic on Main Street was almost
nonexistent. Her gut knotted when she heard a siren. One glance in her side
mirror, and she saw the red and blue flashing lights of a cop car coming up
behind her. Stopping to explain her situation could be the difference between
someone living and dying.
Led by fear, she swerved off Main Street into a residential
neighborhood and accelerated. It wasn’t enough. The cruiser was still behind
her and closing the gap. Then she noticed an alley coming up on her right,
swerved into it and sped up, trying to get back to Main. Everything in her
peripheral vision was a blur, and the sound of the siren was fading as she shot
back onto Main and then down to the far end of the street to the blue hospital
sign with an arrow pointing east.
She followed the arrow, saw the hospital building straight ahead,
and headed toward the entrance marked ER. She slid sideways as she came to a
stop and then ran toward the entrance with her helmet in her hand and her hair
in tangles.
It had taken an hour and five minutes to get there.
It was thirty-seven degrees, and she was sweating.
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