Read All of Me Online

Authors: Lori Wilde

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All of Me

BOOK: All of Me

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by Laurie Vanzura

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.


Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue

New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at

Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

First eBook Edition: April 2009

ISBN: 978-0-446-55199-1


Copyright Page


Jillian’s Story

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two



“Who the hell are you?” they asked in unison.

“I’m Jillian Samuels,” she said as he said, “I’m Tucker Manning.”

And then they both said, “What are you doing here?”

It was a very strange moment. It wasn’t every day that a man met his fantasy woman.
She’s not your fantasy woman. You just had a dream about her
. Except it hadn’t been just your run-of-the-mill dream. It had been a portentous vision.

“You go first,” Tuck said. “You’re the visitor.”

“Actually,” Jillian drew herself up to her full height, which had to be close to six feet. “I’m not.”

She reached into a purse the size of Michigan and pulled out some kind of legal document. “Deed to this house.” She drew in
a deep breath.

He couldn’t help noticing her chest rise. If the vision he’d had of her was in any way accurate, she had a great pair of breasts
underneath that fluffy red sweater.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she snapped.

“Like what?” Tucker forced his eyes off her breasts and onto her face.

“Like you know what I look like without my clothes on.”



“4 Stars! Entertaining and humorous … There’s a seriousness to it also, as the heroine learns to recognize real love and caring.
Wilde again includes secondary romances that are intriguing, entertaining, and hot.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

“Wilde brings romance fans a feel-good, laugh-out-loud read … one of the best romantic comedies I’ve read in a long time.”

“Charming … lighthearted fun … strong secondary romances enhance an engaging Valentine tale.”

—Midwest Book Review

“Rachel and Brody’s love/hate relationship had me giggling … but there are tender moments as well. Supporting characters …
fill this story with humor and romance.”

“An A+ Review! A really great book and I recommend it to everyone and anyone who wants to read a good love story … I’m eagerly
going to fetch out the other books by this author.”

“There are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments and hot romance.”

—Parkersburg News & Sentinel

“Will charm the romantic’s heart.”

“A fun, lighthearted romp.”

“Funny, engaging, and a joy to read … contains chuckles from start to finish and a few feel-good moments too! Overall, a great


“A light, entertaining read.”

“An endearing tale … a feel-good read.”

“Lori Wilde at her best … The magic and romance that Ms. Wilde began in her first book in the series,
There Goes the Bride
, continues in this novel … I really loved this story. The writing is wonderful and the plot grabbed my attention from the
first page. I fell in love with the characters and couldn’t wait to see how they worked everything out.”

“A definite crowd pleaser … Lori Wilde can write very engaging and quirky romances and
Once Smitten, Twice Shy
is one of them … [A] good read with some suspense to boot.”

“A wild ride on an emotional roller coaster.”

“Amusing … an entertaining contemporary romance.”

—Midwest Book Review


“I adored this book! I even kept it in my purse in the hopes that I would have a few minutes in which to squeeze a paragraph
or two … I can’t wait to read the next in this wonderful new series … Superb!”

“A fun, sweet romance.”

“The passion in
There Goes the Bride
is enjoyable … another solid romance from Lori Wilde.”

There Goes the Bride
is a [Lori] Wilde madcap contemporary romance.”

—Midwest Book Review

“A charming romance novel.”

“FOUR HEARTS! Ms. Wilde conquers a whole new part of the romance genre … lots of funny elements and a great cast of characters.”


“Part thriller, part adventure, and always humorous, Wilde’s latest is just what the doctor ordered to chase away the blues.
This author proves that she does humor right.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

“Fast-paced adventure, sexy situations, and lots of suspense will make Wilde’s book appeal to a wide spectrum of readers.”


“Readers will be … laughing at the shenanigans.”

—Publishers Weekly


“4 Stars! This novel has a nice balance of humor, sexy romance, and a large splash of danger.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

“Sexy … An action-packed, fast-paced adventure.”



“This zany romantic comedy will steal your heart … sexy, fun, and hard to put down … pure delight.”

“Witty … the chemistry between David and Maddie is hot enough to satisfy those looking for light summer reading.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Lovable … Wilde has a unique voice that will soar her to publishing heights.”



“With a sassy, in-your-face style reminiscent of Janet Evanovich, Wilde has created an unforgettable heroine.”


“Sexy … Wilde dishes up a delicacy that really hits the spot.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine

“Great fun … A wild ride! Her characters are so alive and the plot is outstanding. I loved every word.”



License to Thrill

Charmed and Dangerous

Mission: Irresistible

You Only Love Twice

There Goes the Bride

Once Smitten, Twice Shy

Addicted to Love

Michele Bidelspach—the most insightful, understanding editor I have ever worked with.

Thank you for the
Gilmore Girls.

May you find that grand love of your very own.


Thanks to Lou Ann King for showing me around her quaint little Colorado lake town. I love you like a sister. Thanks to legal
eagles and fellow writers Dorien Kelley and Jamie Denton for all their help with the legal mumbo jumbo. Any mistakes are solely
my own. You guys rock!

Jillian’s Story

Chapter One

ouston deputy district attorney Jillian Samuels did not believe in magic.

She didn’t throw pennies into wishing wells, didn’t pluck four-leaf clovers from springtime meadows, didn’t blow out birthday-cake
candles, and didn’t wish on falling stars.

For Jillian, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny had always been myths. And as for Santa Claus, even thinking about the jolly
fat guy in the red suit knotted her stomach. She’d tried believing in him once, and all she’d gotten in the pink stocking
she’d hung on the mantel were two chunks of Kingsford’s charcoal—the kind without lighter fluid.

Later, she’d realized her stepmother put the coal in her stocking, but on that Christmas morning, while the other kids rode
bicycles, tossed footballs, and combed Barbie’s hair, Jillian received her message loud and clear.

You’re a very bad girl.

No, Jillian didn’t believe in magic or fairy tales or happily-ever-afters, even though her three best friends, Delaney, Tish,
and Rachael, had supposedly found their true loves after wishing on what they claimed was a magic wedding veil. Her friends
had even dared to pass the damnable veil along to her, telling Jillian it would grant her heart’s greatest desire. But she
wasn’t falling for such nonsense. She snorted whenever she thought of the three-hundred-year-old lace wedding veil shoved
away in a cedar chest along with her winter cashmere sweaters.

When it came to romance, Jillian was of the same mind as Hemingway:
When two people love each other, there can be no happy ending.
Clearly, Hemingway knew what he was talking about.

Not that Jillian could claim she’d ever been in love. She’d decided a long time ago love was best avoided. She liked her life
tidy, and from what she’d seen of it, love was sprawling and messy and complicated. Besides, love required trust, and trust
wasn’t her strong suit.

Jillian did not believe in magic, but she did believe in hard work, success, productivity, and justice. The closest she ever
came to magic were those glorious courtroom moments when a judge in a black robe read the jury’s guilty verdict.

This morning in late September, dressed in a no-nonsense navy-blue pin-striped Ralph Lauren suit, a cream-colored silk blouse,
and Jimmy Choo stilettos to show off the shapely curve of her calves and add three inches to her already imposing five-foot-ten-inch
height, Jillian stood at attention waiting for the verdict to be read.

On the outside, she looked like a dream prosecutor—statuesque, gorgeous, young, and smart. But underneath the clothes and
the makeup and her cool, unshakeable countenance, Jillian Samuels was still that same little girl who hadn’t rated a Christmas
present from Santa.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict in this case?” Judge Atwood asked.

“We have, Your Honor,” answered the foreman, a big slab of a guy with carrot-colored hair and freckled skin.

“Please hand your decision to the bailiff,” the judge directed.

Jillian drew a breath, curling her fingernails into her palms. Before the reading of every verdict, she felt slightly sick
to her stomach.

The bailiff, a gangly, bulldog-faced middle-aged man with a Magnum P.I. mustache, walked the piece of paper across the courtroom
to the judge’s bench. Judge Atwood opened it, read it, and then glared at the defendant over the top of his reading glasses.

Twenty-three-year-old Randal Petry had shot Gladys Webelow, an eighty-two-year-old great-grandmother, in the upper thigh while
robbing a Dash and Go last Christmas Eve. Gladys had been buying a bottle of Correctol and a quart of 2 percent milk. He’d
made off with forty-seven dollars from the cash register, a fistful of Slim Jims, and a twenty-four pack of Old Milwaukee.

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