No One But You

families.
    “As a survivor of violence, Mary inspires all women,” says Wendy Sung-Aad, manager of development for Nellie’s. “She is an ordinary woman giving extraordinary hope to other women affected by violence. Mary’s story and voice is one of strength, perseverance and giving back to the community to help others.”
    Mary, who has since stepped down from the board after serving the maximum three two-year terms, points out that many women in her position have gone on to be successful and give back.
    “That’s great if someone thinks my life can be an inspiration for other women, but I have met dozens of women who I think are just as inspirational,” she maintains. Still, she’s happy to be a face for Nellie’s if it means more women and children will be given the same opportunities she and her daughters were offered.
    Although Mary is quick to point out that she’s not a crisis counselor, she’s more than willing to guide women in the right direction if they come to her with abuse stories of their own. Her advice? Talk to someone in a shelter or call a woman-abuse hotline. Trained staff members are available to help create a plan for leaving safely, she says. They’ll also discuss the documents needed and where to go to stay safe.
    Reaching out for help changed Mary’s life forever, and she’s passionate about helping others find a way out of fear.
    “When I left, it finally offered me the opportunity to see how far I could stretch my life,” she says. “If you can find the courage, have the courage. There is a better life waiting for you out here.”

Jillian Hart

    No One But You

Jillian Hart grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.

Chapter One
    “Mariah Evans. Is that you?” The deep baritone rumbled above the noise of the crowd, drawing her out of her thoughts.
    Strange, the power that one voice had out of the many rising around her. Recognition streaked down her spine and kicked up her pulse as a tall, powerful man broke away from the crowd. Although it had been nearly eighteen years since high school, Mariah knew the confident gait, the always-in-charge manner and deep blue eyes that touched her heart.
    Wyatt Royce. Her old boyfriend. Shock rocked her back on her heels. She blinked, but he kept coming, weaving coolly around the volunteers hurrying to take donations of cash, checks and diapers from the cars driving up. He was a calm island in a sea of activity. When his dazzling gaze latched on to hers, the banner flapping in the March wind advertising the diaper drive, the bustle and noise of a local television crew setting up, and the squeal of kids running to the booth ahead of their parents all faded into the background.
    Run? Panic? Escape? Why was that her first instinct? Probably because things hadn’t ended well between her and Wyatt in their high school days. What a shock to see him again. “I’m Mariah Duncan now. What are you doing in Buffalo?”
    “Working.” He approached the booth like the calm in a storm, poised, masculine, impeccable in a tailored suit.
    “On a Saturday afternoon?” She nodded toward his attire, definitely out of place at this casual event. “Why am I not surprised you’re a workaholic?”
    “Type A personality. That’s me. I guess some things don’t change.” His grin hadn’t changed, either. Wide and open and honest, it softened the rugged planes of his face and reminded her of the high school boy who’d asked her out on her first date. That smile could still make her fingertips tingle.
    Not that she was letting it. She would never be interested in a man like Wyatt. They’d broken up for a reason.
    “You certainly haven’t changed.” He pulled a checkbook out of his jacket pocket. “You’re still pretty. Let me guess. You’re in charge here?”
    “I’m the executive director.”
    “Oh, I saw your name on the shelter’s letterhead, but I had no idea you were that Mariah.” Wyatt clicked a pen—an expensive one. When he bent forward to fill out his check, dark locks of hair fell over his forehead, just like they had in those innocent days when she’d