There's nothing like the sun-kissed West Coast T. J. Hillyard said it all: it had been a long time since vacationing Manhattan attorney Abbie Jarvis had been in Wheeler, California. Fruit trees and sunflowers still graced the lawns and gardens. Children still rode bicycles on quiet streets. It was the same sleepy town Abbie remembered, but it didn't look the same. Not at all. When Abbie was growing up, she'd dreamed of escaping Wheeler and finding glory in the big city. But was anything more glorious than a sunrise in Wheeler, than in all the tomorrows she could have with T.J., who savored the small moments of a day and made each day matter? Once Abbie dreamed of finding a way out—now she wondered if there was a way back.

THERE's NOTHING LIKE SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY—Unfortunately, Jamie Faber got off on the wrong foot in New Orleans, insulting a high priestess of voodoo, who in turn put a curse on her. In short order, her car died, her telephone began spitting static, fuses blew and electric lights exploded at her touch. Matters soon reached the breaking point—how could Jamie be an effective social worker when her terrified clients avoided her like the plague? On the other hand, Dr. Quaid Gerreau was the picture of hospitality. But it made no sense that straitlaced Jamie found it so hard to resist a man who scorned rules, befriended every reprobate in town and believed in voodoo. Unless, of course, Quaid wasn't above casting a few spells of his own.

There's nothing like the wide open spaces of the Midwest... Suzanne Allman's cross-country trip was fraught with accidents. First, daughter Mose totaled a parked car just as they were crossing the Pennsylvania-Ohio border, which meant they were obliged to tote the cowboy on crutches, whose car, clothes and credit cards they'd destroyed, all the way to his Wyoming ranch. The second incident also involved Billy Blue, who chatted, joked and sang cowboy songs as they cruised through Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. With a man as unique as Billy at her side, it wasn't really an accident that Suzanne collided head-on with love. It seemed like one—but maybe accidents were just another name for destiny.

There's nothing like the brisk autumn nights of the North As cold winds rattled through broken windows and loose doors. Farnum's Castle felt like an icebox. Marielle Brandt couldn't complain to the landlord - she was the landlord, having inherited her husband's mounting debts and title to the weirdest apartment building in the history of human habitation. The plumbing was shot, the stairs were treacherous and the place was haunted. The tenants were a raggle-taggle group of refugees, witches and warlocks. But he weirdest part was that Farnum's Castle felt like home, and the tenants like family. Especially Simon Zebriskie, who gruffly dispensed help and advice, and felt like someone Marielle had been seeking all her life to warm her heart on even the coldest Chicago night.