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While she lay there dazed and wondering if she’d broken any bones, a hand came down in front of her face.
‘Are you alright?’
Laney’s eyes traveled up the tanned male arm, over the snug Marty Stuart tour t-shirt and landed on a concerned hazel gaze she recognized. Dear sweet God in heaven, what year was it? How was someone from her distant past—someone whom she’d counted on never seeing again—standing in front of her?

excerpt, One More Last Chance