Love at Any Cost (The Heart of San Francisco Book #1): A Novel by Julie Lessman

Author:Julie Lessman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: FIC042030, Christian, FIC027050, Romance, Fiction, Christian fiction, Single women—California—San Francisco—Fiction, FIC042040, Historical, San Francisco (Calif.)—History—20th century—Fiction, General, Love stories
ISBN: 9781441240576
Publisher: Baker Books
Published: 2013-04-15T00:10:57+00:00

“Yeah, but the thing is, Mac,” Bram said slowly, gaze as sharp as the guilt that prickled Jamie’s gut, “you actually won’t be giving her that, and I’m not sure that’s fair to Cassie. Even so, Cassie’s as down-home and bottom line as you get, so she’s going to see right through you.”

“Not if you’re a good teacher.” Jamie peered up beneath leaden lids, grateful for the strong and stable influence of a friend like Bram—a man with a quiet faith that didn’t judge Jamie or anyone, for that matter. In the seven years they’d been friends, Jamie had come to respect Bram and the unruffled morality that governed his life. Unlike Blake—and Jamie at the moment—he wasn’t prone to overindulgence with women or whiskey. Ginger ale and an easy, open manner were his hallmarks. Gratitude swelled in Jamie’s chest. And an honest and true relationship that felt more like blood than friendship. A grin tipped his mouth. “Besides,” he said with a slap of Bram’s back, “If God’s a friend of yours, Hughes, he’s a friend of mine.”

Bram shook his head, waving Jamie off when he offered a drink from his bottle. “Oh, you can put your money on that, Mac. The sad thing is he always has been—you just haven’t seen it for that monumental grudge slowing you down.”

“A grudge? Slowing me down?” Jamie poured another whiskey and held it aloft in a toast. “There’s not a lady or boxer in San Francisco that would agree with that, my friend.”

Bram slipped a couple of bills from his wallet and rose with a patient smile. “Maybe not, MacKenna, but that devil of a headache you’re gonna have come morning?” He tossed payment for the bottle onto the bar. “Trust me, it doesn’t get any slower than lying flat on your face.”

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