Extreme Caution (Harlequin NASCAR Series) [NOOK Book]

Overview

Maeve Branch is neck-deep in embarrassment. Her husband disappeared with millions in embezzled funds and she discovered he'd been cheating on her for years! Now Maeve is broke and brokenhearted--shutting out everything except her family, her twin sons' NASCAR careers and her beloved animal shelter.

Oil tycoon Chuck Lawrence can hardly believe that the lovely woman volunteering at the shelter is the socialite the tabloids can't stop talking about. His code of honor demands that ...

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Extreme Caution (Harlequin NASCAR Series)

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Overview

Maeve Branch is neck-deep in embarrassment. Her husband disappeared with millions in embezzled funds and she discovered he'd been cheating on her for years! Now Maeve is broke and brokenhearted--shutting out everything except her family, her twin sons' NASCAR careers and her beloved animal shelter.

Oil tycoon Chuck Lawrence can hardly believe that the lovely woman volunteering at the shelter is the socialite the tabloids can't stop talking about. His code of honor demands that he help her, but while he advises Maeve on her financial affairs and she introduces him to the world of NASCAR, he begins to wonder if he can teach her to trust a man again--and let him into her heart....

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781426824944
  • Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
  • Publication date: 6/1/2008
  • Series: Harlequin NASCAR Series
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 300,734
  • File size: 203 KB

Meet the Author

Jean Brashear would rather read a good book than eat. (Unless we're talking chocolate, in which case her question would be "Why do I need to choose just one?") Her children grew up knowing the difference between the "Mm-huh" nod that meant she was still deep in the story and being the clear focus of actual attention. They grew adept at an early age at snapping fingers and developing just the right tone to say "Mom?" — edgy enough to suggest possible admonition without generating a full-blown dash for 911.

But she'd never seriously considered that she could write a book until her last child was in high school. With no training or experience past high school English, it was quite a leap to assume she could — but from the very first effort, rough as it was, Jean received encouragement about her raw talent. She made the bold statement to her family and friends that she wouldn't allow herself to give up for at least five years — but she admits that when she said it, she was certain five weeks was ample time, or five months at most, to sell a book...did she ever have a surprise in store as she learned about the publishing business!

But she kept to her word (as much as anything out of fear of so much crow to eat if she wimped out); she wrote and wrote, submitted and submitted, endured the rejections so familiar to most writers — but just over two years later, she sold her first book.

She's been finalist for and won numerous awards, and she often kicks herself that she waited so long to figure out what to be when she grew up — but all in all, she's just happy to have found her way, late-bloomer or not. She figuresshe's a living examplethat it's never too late to do something crazy.

She treasures hearing from her readers.

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Read an Excerpt

The woman known as Margaret to her fellow volunteers at the animal shelter stepped out of her ex-housekeeper Gerty's serviceable sedan in the shelter's caliche parking lot.

And out of her real life, the one where reporters and gossipmongers waited for her to emerge in public, to gauge her reaction to the fact that Hilton had been caught in the Bahamas and was now sitting in jail, watched for her to crumble so more dirt could be dished. Tongues could wag.

Here, the only tongues she came in contact with wanted to bestow doggie kisses. The only thing that wagged were canine tails. This place had long been her refuge, the one thing she did for herself. As a child, she'd dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, a goal that had scandalized her father. Not a MacGregor, no. The MacGregors were Texas royalty. A MacGregor, with a lineage going back to Stephen F. Austin's original colony that settled in Texas, did not wear blue jeans or clean up after animals.

But cats and dogs didn't lie to you. Didn't cheat. They lived in the moment and accepted what was. Didn't spend time questioning everything.

Her last job of the day was her favorite: walking Harry, an aging yellow Lab. "Hey, fella," she crooned as she approached him. His rheumy eyes looked up at her with hope, his tail slowly beating a tattoo on the side of his cage. "How's my boy today? You ready for a walk?" The poor dog broke her heart, as so many of them did.

"Why do you do it, Mom?" Penny had asked her more than once when she'd returned home, shaken by how callous her fellow humans could be about the fate of innocent creatures that couldn't speak for themselves. Only her children and Gerty knew about this particularvolunteer work, and none of them understood why she put herself through it.

"They need me," was the only answer she'd come up with. Even before her world fell apart, this had been the most meaningful part of her week. She hadn't missed a single time—with the exception of those terrible weeks right after the scandal had broken.

Thank goodness Penny's husband, Craig, had, in his own kind way, bullied her into returning long before she was ready to face the world.

"You don't care what the papers say, do you, Harry?" She crouched before him, scratching behind his ears as Harry groaned in bliss. "You're my guy," she crooned.

A long slurp of the tongue had her giggling. "Come on," she said, rising. "Let's go outside and you can water some trees."

Harry's ears perked up at the magic word outside.

Maeve held the leash and led him down the hallway between the cages, too intent on talking to Harry to notice the tall man who stood in the doorway, frowning.

"Mr. Lawrence?" The manager of the animal shelter, Carolyn Mason, glanced behind her. "If you'd come this way, I'll show you the wing we hope to expand if the fund-raising drive is successful."

Chuck Lawrence yanked his gaze from the small woman who'd brushed past without looking up. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint it.

"…would take an interest," Ms. Mason was saying. "Don't you agree?"

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

A line formed between the woman's brows, but she smiled even more brightly. "I said that our organization would be so fortunate if more board members were like you and came to look at what we need to do our jobs."

For his part, he thought anyone who took a position on a board of directors owed at least that much service, though he expected more of himself. He'd let himself be talked into this position by Cecily Dunstan, the woman he'd been dating for several months, though he had little patience with the do-gooder facade worn by too many social climbers with little or no interest in the actual cause.

"I couldn't agree more," he responded. If Chuck Lawrence made a commitment, he honored it. Just as he'd honored his wedding vows for years after his beloved late wife, June, was gone. He hadn't been able to face the dating scene and had chosen to redouble his efforts at making money, instead.

But he already had plenty of money—not because anybody handed it to him, but through backbreaking work as an oil-field roughneck coupled with the cunning bred into him by the grandparents who'd raised him. The thrill of making more was long since gone. In time, though, he'd turned his efforts to making a difference, to applying his funds where they could do the most good. His two sons and a daughter were grown and they'd inherit a nice nest egg when he was gone, but he believed that children handed wealth often did not turn out well, so he'd insisted that they make their own way thus far. They'd made him proud, every one of them, and though they all had their separate lives, they were a close family still, even if the heart of them, their mother, was gone.

"Mr. Lawrence?"

"Chuck. Call me Chuck." He wielded a lot of power, yes, first as an oilman and now as a venture capitalist, but he'd spent enough of his life at the bottom of the ladder that he understood the difference between social status and true worth as a human being.

"Certainly, Mr.… uh, Chuck." She smiled. "Let's move outside for a minute. It's a little hard to hear over all the barking. The dogs get excited when a stranger arrives."

He glanced around him and saw with approval that though the shelter was crowded, the cages were clean and each animal had food and water. "You run a tight ship, it appears." He followed her through the doorway that opened onto a wide, grassy area.

"Without our volunteers, I don't know how we'd manage. We're seriously understaffed, yet another reason for the fund drive." At the sound of one dog's joyous barking, she smiled and turned. "Like our Margaret there. She's our special angel. Been coming here for several years every single week."

Chuck followed the pointing of her finger and saw the woman who'd passed him earlier. He couldn't help smiling, too. The yellow Lab who'd lumbered by him had seemed ancient, yet he was cavorting with the volunteer like a puppy. "Who is she?"

"Let me introduce you. She's wonderful. Margaret!" she called, and waved the woman over. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

The volunteer shaded her eyes with one hand. "Could it wait?" she called. "Harry hasn't had his walk."

"She's very shy," the manager said. "Spends her time with the animals almost exclusively." She raised her voice. "Just for a second. I can ask Leo to walk Harry."

The woman's reluctance was clear. "Never mind," Chuck began. "Let's go on."

But as he was saying that, the woman and the Lab began to approach. Once again, something niggled at him, a sense of recognition he couldn't credit. He watched the woman closely as she neared. Probably five-four or -five, slim, clad in old blue jeans, a wrinkled cotton shirt and worn athletic shoes, her hair covered with a bandanna, she was probably younger than his fifty-seven, but not a young woman.

A few feet away, however, he thought he heard her emit a small gasp, quickly muffled. She ducked her head as Carolyn Mason introduced them. "Margaret MacGregor, this is one of our board members, Mr. Charles Lawrence."

"Chuck," he amended, and put out his hand. "Glad to meet you, Margaret. Carolyn here's been singing your praises."

"My pleasure," she mumbled as she shook his hand and just as quickly released him. "I'd better go now." With a tug of the Lab's leash, she all but ran away.

"I am so sorry," Carolyn said, confused.

"No big deal," Chuck responded absently, his mind engaged in recalling the brief glimpse he'd had of the woman's face. No makeup, not even lipstick, graced her features, but there was something… "MacGregor, did you say?"

"Yes, why? Do you know her?"

Do I? He couldn't shake the notion that he'd met this woman before, but where could that have been? Her hands had been soft and smooth, the hands of a woman with frequent manicures, not those of someone who performed manual labor. Her carriage, even with head bowed, was dignified, at odds with her rough attire.

He stared after her, wondering.

"Do you want me to call her back?" The anxiety in the manager's voice conveyed her concern that an influential board member might be put off, something the shelter clearly couldn't afford.

He shook himself. Focused on the manager. "No. No, that's fine. Now, where were we?"

The tour continued, with Chuck doing his best to return his attention to the matter at hand.

Dear mercy. Maeve's heart pounded double-time. Don't panic. Maybe he didn't recognize you. She rounded the corner of the building and forced herself to slow. "I'm sorry, Harry." She crouched before him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "I didn't mean to rush you, I just—" She dropped her head to rest it on his neck. "What am I going to do?" Despair swamped her. The shelter had been her one refuge, the lone escape from the prison her home had become. If that man… what was his name? He'd been a guest at one of the dinner parties Hilton had insisted on throwing when he wanted to lure new investors into some venture.

How she'd dreaded those command performances where she'd had to be the elegant hostess, where Hilton wouldn't leave a single detail alone, never mind that she'd learned social graces from birth while he'd grown up a factory worker's son. He'd pick at her choices until she wanted to scream, but she never did.

It was part of the devil's bargain she'd made, she saw now. She had never liked the glare of publicity, had only endured it to keep peace in the family. Her philandering husband, the fugitive embezzler, had demanded that she take her place in society, just as her father once had. If she'd known Hilton would turn out so much like her father, she wouldn't have married him.

But when she'd met the charming and handsome Hilton Branch, he'd seemed like the answer to a prayer. Her elder brother, her father's shining hope to succeed him in the family bank, had been killed in Vietnam, and her father had turned the glare of his ambitions on her, regardless of how ill-suited she was to the task. Hilton was so dashing and magnetic, so full of ambitions to be everything she was not. When he'd pursued her, she'd been dazzled. He'd supported her dream to make a home and raise a family, if not her wish to be a vet. He'd been a wizard with her parents, and she'd gratefully accepted his proposal, knowing that she'd provided her father with the heir she could never be.

If only her father hadn't died and Hilton's ambitions hadn't mushroomed. His new vision for a financial empire had him insisting on her playing a major role. He had no pedigree in society, and he needed her help to make those all-important connections.

She'd said yes, of course, eager to keep the peace. Only one of her many mistakes when it came to Hilton Branch.

Now the past she sought refuge from had returned to haunt her—in the one place she'd felt safe.

Lawrence. Charles Lawrence, that was his name. A wealthy oilman, she thought. His connection to Hilton made him loathsome to her. And dangerous.

Please, oh, please, let him not have recognized me.

If she lost this one piece of the week when she could forget the mess her life was in, she didn't know what she would do.

Harry whimpered and licked her hand.

Maeve's heart melted. "Thank you, my friend." She hugged him hard, then rose and straightened.

"Mom, you have to face them all down," Will had said to her recently. "Remember what you've always told us, never let them see you sweat."

An excellent strategy both he and Bart had had to master to succeed as they had in stock car racing. She was proud of her boys, she absolutely was. But they couldn't possibly understand. Neither of them had a timid bone in their bodies. She'd grown up scared of her shadow. Sought shelter in Hilton's.

Hilton Branch is out of your life now, Maeve Margaret MacGregor, and you had the wherewithal to raise four bright, strong children. God knows their father had little time to spare for them except when they occupied the limelight.

It was true. She had been the one to dry the tears, help with the homework, guide them into adulthood. She'd done a good job of it, too, if she did say so herself. Of all the mistakes she'd made—turning control of her life and their finances to Hilton Branch— raising fine children had not been among them.

If only she could manage to turn herself into a woman who could manage as well as her children did. The task seemed like the rest of her life: overwhelming.

Harry leaned against her leg, and she bent to pet him, wishing she could always have someone who loved her this much by her side.

Maeve stared at the old dog. In all the years she'd volunteered at the shelter, she'd never taken a single animal home, primarily because there were so many of them that it was impossible to choose, but also because Hilton had refused to have an animal in his house.

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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Posted July 1, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Extreme Caution by Jean Brashear Harlequin NASCAR Library Secret

    Extreme Caution by Jean Brashear
    Harlequin NASCAR Library
    Secrets And Legends Series Book 15
    Maeve Branch has been through so much since her cheating, stealing, no-good husband took the money and ran. She’s been hiding out and missing out on life. The one good thing she went back to her once a week volunteer job at the animal shelter under her maiden name that no one recognized. Everything was great until the day someone from her past life recognized her. Did she go back to imprisoning herself in her home or continue doing what she enjoyed? 




    Chuck Lawrence couldn’t believe that the plainly dressed woman at the shelter was the ice queen socialite he had met. Only this woman was broken and brought out his protective instincts. When he realized she was nothing like he assumed she was he wanted to get to know her better. Problem was her husband had really pulled a number on her and left her to not trust men or to realize what a strong, brave woman she really was. She fought his attention but Chuck was a man who always got what he wanted. And he wanted Maeve.




    This family has been through so much especially with Alyssa Ritchie and her tell-all book on the twenty year affair with Hilton Branch. Maeve needed to get back in the world so that people like Alyssa and Hilton wouldn’t win in the end. And she had to do it without pity or others doing things for her. Victory Lane is the final book in this series going back to Dean and Patsy Grosso’s story. The stories continue in later books where both Will and Bart Branch get their stories told along with some of the other drivers who have been introduced in the previous books.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 16, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted November 2, 2011

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