“I am madly in love with you too.” Hopelessly. Desperately. She had never in her life longed for something the way she longed for Kyler.
A ripple in the water seemed to draw Cupid’s attention away from Kyler. The dog ran to the other end of the dock to investigate.
“I love your laugh and I love your strength and I love how you take care of Bri and Cookie and Cupid and me.” He looked up at her, admiration spilling from his eyes. “I love that you ride motorcycles and that you wear boots and that you put everyone else above yourself. You are remarkable. A true treasure in this world. And I would be forever grateful if you would be my wife.” He reached onto the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a ring. No box, no grandeur, no pretenses. Just a small solitaire round diamond set in a silver band that was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. “Bri helped me pick it out,” he told her. “She’s thrilled. Can’t wait for the wedding. No pressure.”
Emery laughed again, her tears spilling off her cheeks, soaking into the collar of her sweatshirt. “I love Bri with all my heart, and my God, Kyler…you are the perfect man for me. The man who makes me laugh. The man who stands by my side. The man who takes the fish off my hook for me.” He was the man who would carry her through no matter what they had to face in life. She pulled him up so she could look into his eyes when she gave him her answer. “Yes. I will marry you. I will love you for the rest of my life.”
First Kiss With a Cowboy Sample
Silverado Lake Book 1
Chapter One
Jane Harding paused in front of the fine dining restaurant with a name she couldn’t even pronounce.
The sleek dark windows, old-world brick façade, and the line of Mercedes and Teslas lined up in front of the valet stand only proved this restaurant was far above her pay grade as an adjunct professor at Cal Poly. Her agent had summoned her here for dinner, which meant she was about to get either really great news—like her editor loved the new book she’d turned in, or extremely terrible news—like her editor had hated it and Jane’s agent wanted to soften the blow with good wine.
Jane’s heart made a sudden leap for her throat. Admittedly, she’d struggled to put two sentences together in her second attempt at a novel. The first novel? No problem. But there had also been no pressure—she hadn’t had an agent or editor yet. She’d simply written for herself, and then had sent the manuscript off never expecting it would get published, let alone become a bestseller. After the success, her publisher had been so excited and asked that another manuscript be delivered within six months so they could keep the momentum going.
The problem was, Jane seemed to have lost her momentum and, in its place, lived a lingering fear that she was simply a one-hit wonder.
Glancing down, she straightened her blue silk blouse and smoothed the black slacks she’d spent a small fortune on so she could dress the part of the successful writer. Whatever her agent said tonight, Jane had to make this writing career work. Her contract teaching literature at the university was up as of last week, and after her trip home to Colorado for her friend’s wedding in a few weeks, she had no job to come back to.
“Confidence,” she murmured, as though saying it would somehow help her build it. All she had to do was march in there and act like a real writer, like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she belonged in this world of fancy restaurants and Teslas and Mercedes.
Whirling, Jane made a move for the doors, but one of the parking attendants bumped into her and knocked her purse off her shoulder. It fell to the ground with a thud, everything spilling out onto the sidewalk—her wallet, wadded Kleenexes and receipts, tampons, and part of an old apple she’d eaten between classes yesterday and had forgotten to throw away.
“Oh no!”
The attendant hurried off without so much as a sorry while Jane squatted to collect her things. What was that? Oh geez. Her face flamed as she picked up the tattered condom wrapper that one of her students must’ve slipped in her purse as a joke because it definitely wasn’t hers. So much for looking sophisticated. All around her, people hustled into the restaurant averting their eyes as though they couldn’t see her predicament.
Ducking her head, she managed to shove everything back into her purse and scrambled to her feet again before practically diving into the restaurant to escape the stares and whispers from the valet line.
The restaurant’s interior put out a dim calming vibe, but her heart continued to race, and her cheeks pulsed with embarrassment. Hopefully no one in here had seen the spectacle through those dark windows. She rushed to the hostess station doing her best to look detached and annoyed rather than humiliated.
“I’m here to meet Caroline Benning,” she said as briskly as her very successful agent would have.
“Of course.” The young woman picked up two menus. “Ms. Benning called and said she was running a few minutes late, but she would like you to be seated.” She nodded Jane past a gigantic fish tank with all varieties of tropical fish swimming around and into the intimate dining room.
At seven o’clock it seemed nearly every table was full—a few couples who looked like they were celebrating something, a few tables of what looked to be businesspeople continuing their workday over appetizers and wine. She could really use a glass of wine right now…
“This will be your table.” The young hostess gestured to a table for two in the corner. “Ms. Benning has already ordered a bottle for wine you,” she said, pulling out Jane’s chair. “It will be here momentarily.”
“Oh. Great.” Jane sat. A whole bottle of wine for just her? Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to be good news.
“Your waiter will be right with you.” The hostess handed her a leather-bound menu and then regally walked in the opposite direction. Jane took a second to look it over, but still found it difficult to focus. Between the nerves and the lingering embarrassment from the scene on the sidewalk, she couldn’t quite decide what she wanted to eat. She set down the menu in front of her and let her eyes wander.
An older couple sat nearby, and they appeared to be fighting. The man had a scowl on his face while the woman leaned halfway over the table and said something, her jaw rigid and her eyes narrowed.
Hmmm. Maybe he’d had an affair. Or it was possible his wife had made the reservations here and he’d forgotten it was their anniversary.
The woman caught her staring, so she moved her gaze to table of nicely dressed businessmen she walked past earlier, and one of them was staring directly at her.
She quickly looked down. She must be mistaken. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had stared at her like that. Well, there was Alex from the Math department, but he didn’t count. Jane peeked up again, and yes, the man was definitely still staring. He smiled a little when their eyes met, and Jane’s cheeks filled with an entirely different type of heat.
Smile back. She thought she did, but was it too big? Not big enough? She didn’t know, but the man said something to his friends and stood up. Oh wow. He was walking over to her. This is exactly the kind of meet-cute she’d write about in her romance novels! A man spots a woman from across the room—okay, from a few tables over—and then, overtaken by this instant chemistry between them, he makes his way over. Except that had never happened to her.
“Hi there.”
He was so handsome. Tall with chestnut-colored hair and a squarish jaw. Jane peered up into eyes the same color as the ocean outside. Speak! she reminded herself. “Hi.” Geez. Why’d she have to be so shy? Why couldn’t she come up with something witty to say? If she were sitting behind her computer she could, that was for sure.
“I’m not sure how to say this…” The man leaned in closer. He even smelled good.
It’s okay, Jane silently coaxed. Just say it. Maybe he wanted to tell her he felt this strange connection to her when he’d looked at her. Maybe he was going to ask her out. Lord knew it had been awhile since she’d been on a date…
“You have a huge rip in the back of your pants
.”
Jane blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”
“Your pants,” he murmured discreetly. “There’s a huge rip in the seam. I figured you didn’t know. I probably wouldn’t have noticed but your underwear is…pretty colorful.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. She’d worn her bright red underwear with the silver polka dots! Her lucky underwear—the pair she’d been wearing the day she’d signed the contract with her publisher. Obviously, her luck was running out. Her scalp suddenly burned. It must’ve happened when she’d crouched down outside. How the heck did a two-hundred-dollar pair of pants rip right up the seam?
“I figured you should know,” the man said awkwardly. “I mean, I would want to.”
“Right. Yes.” Jane swallowed a fireball of humiliation. “Thank you for the information.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her. “I hope you have a good night.”
“Uh huh. You too.” A good night? Seriously? She was not going to have a good night. In fact, things could only get worse from here. This is why she rarely went out. These kinds of things always seemed to happen to her. It was almost as bad as that night—the one time she’d let her guard down and it was still the most embarrassing moment of her life. Jane started to gather her purse. She should leave before her agent got there. She could bolt out of the restaurant and never show her face here ag—
“Sorry I’m so late.” Caroline appeared seemingly out of thin air. The blunt cut of her red hair seemed to fit her curt personality. The woman was always so efficient and direct. Even her wardrobe exuded a certain sharpness. Jane imagined she had a whole closet of black dresses at home and a second closet just for her scarves.
“The wine isn’t even here yet?” Caroline barked. “Are you kidding me?” She slid into her chair across the table in a huff. “I suppose we won’t get our dinner for another two hours either.”
Two hours? Jane glanced over at the man who’d informed her about the underwear situation. He seemed to have completely forgotten all about her and was chatting with a woman who’d come over to their table. Ugh. Of course. That woman probably didn’t understand needing lucky underwear at all. Jane refocused on Caroline. She needed this night to be over. “Actually. I’m not going to be able to stay for dinner. I’m…um…not feeling well.” It wasn’t a lie. Her stomach churned and a headache had started to pound in her temples. That’s what being the center of attention always did to her. It made her want to hide. She needed a nice hot bath and some ice cream for dinner.
Caroline’s frown indicated she had no sympathy for Jane’s health concerns. “But we have important things to discuss, my dear. Timely, important things that simply can’t wait.” Her glossy red lips pursed together.
And there it was. The bad news her intuition had told her to expect. She might as well get this over with, split pants or not. “They don’t like it, do they? They don’t like the book?” Of course her editor hadn’t liked it. Jane didn’t even like it.
“They hate it,” Caroline clarified. “I hated it. What the hell happened, Jane?” Her agent’s resonant voice carried. “This book is light years behind your last one.”
“I don’t know,” Jane half whispered, doing her best to keep the conversation between the two of them. “I guess I have writer’s block or something.”
“Well you need to get over it.” Caroline paused when a server approached.
“One bottle of Chateau Margaux Pavillon Rogue.” The man made a grand presentation out of opening the bottle and pouring a taste into the wineglass before handing it to Caroline.
Her agent sniffed at the rim of the glass, her nose wrinkled, and then she swirled the glass before taking a microscopic sip. “I hate it.” Caroline handed the glass back to the server. “Bring me the Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon instead. And bring us a free cheese plate for waiting so long,” she called to his retreating back.
Normally the rude tone would’ve made Jane cringe but given what she’d been through in the last hour she was all out of cringes.
“The only thing they liked in the whole book was your hero,” Caroline said getting back to business. “Keep him and scrap everything else.”
“The hero? Are you sure?” The hero was actually the one thing she wouldn’t mind completely scrapping.
“What’s not to love?” Caroline demanded. “The hero is every woman’s dream—rugged, sexy, confident.”
Or a total showoff. Jane would never admit it in a million years, but she’d based the hero on Toby Garrett. And it was true, he was every woman’s fantasy. She’d gone to high school with the cowboy, and he wasn’t only charming and good looking. He was also crazy smart, a straight A student, and a star athlete. Oh, and he also happened to be the one who’d tempted her to let her guard down that night.
She hadn’t intended to write a hero based on Toby, but between the looming deadline and the writer’s block, she’d suddenly found herself looking up old yearbook photos of him and Googling his stats out on the rodeo circuit. She’d rather not explore why.
Not that she had to worry about anyone finding out. Her writing career was a secret—protected by a pseudonym. Not even her mom or her best friend Beth knew about it.
When she’d first started writing, it had simply been a way for her to escape, to take the edge off the hours she spent by herself after she’d finished college and grad school and no longer had a rigorous schedule to keep her so busy. She’d filled her world with friends…only they weren’t real.
On a whim, she’d submitted the manuscript to a contest and she’d ended up with a publishing contract. She signed it on one condition—she would never have to reveal her true identity. Knowing no one else would ever learn she was the one behind those words had given her a courage she’d never had. It ensured no one would ever see more of her than she wanted them to.
“The hero stays.” Caroline’s glare dared Jane to argue. “You have six weeks to turn in a new book or I’m afraid they won’t offer you another contract.”
Jane choked on a sip of water. “Six weeks?” There was no way. She hadn’t been able to write a solid story in six months, let alone six weeks. “I’m leaving to spend three weeks at my mom’s ranch in Colorado. My best friend is getting married. We’re going to be so busy with all the events—”
Caroline’s smile looked more terrifying than friendly. “Well it sounds like that might be the perfect opportunity for you to find some inspiration.”
Home for the Holidays Sample
Coming September 2020
Chapter One
Dearest Dahlia, Magnolia, and Rose,
I know we haven’t spoken in many years, but I’m sending you these packages in hopes that we might finally reconnect after all this time. When your mother decided to stop visiting me, I suppose she was doing what she thought best. Maybe she thought things would be easier for all of us. It hasn’t been for me. I can hardly believe it’s been eighteen years since we last played in that old camping trailer you took over here at the Inn. It still sits near the pond, full of your old dress up clothes and jewelry and the many stuffed animals we invited to our parties. Oh, what fun we always had when you would come visit. Do you remember? The fancy afternoon teas and the cookie baking, and the magical Christmas extravaganza we would host at the Inn every year? Those memories are some of the very best moments of my life, and I hope you think of them fondly too.
As another Christmas draws near, I have been thinking more about you, about the love and the laughter you brought into this old place. I know you’ve all grown into beautiful young women, but not much has changed at the Juniper Inn. All of the cozy cottages remain tucked among the pines, which are already covered with a healthy dusting of snow. The mountain peaks still stand guard to the west, looking almost like an ice castle hovering on the horizon. You three always swore the inn was really part of a fairy world, even though no one else could see the magic as clearly as you girls could. I always saw it though. I still see the magic. Even as it’s
aged, there’s always been something enchanting about this place. Do you remember how we would sing and dance around the Christmas tree? How we would bundle up in soft wooly layers and gather outside on Christmas Eve for s’mores at the campfire? I wanted to remind you of those simple, cozy days, so I’m sending you each a piece of Christmas from the Juniper Inn.
Dahlia, for you I chose the snowflake music box that always sat on the mantel. You used to wind it up over and over again, singing along to Let it Snow at the top of your little lungs. When it broke the year you turned seven, you spent hours working to fix it—making it sing sweetly again. Even back then there was no problem you couldn’t solve.
Magnolia, for you I chose my Christmas tree rolling pin. What fun we had baking all those cookies for the hordes that would come to the Christmas extravaganza! You had such a gift for baking with love, and I’m thrilled to see you’ve followed one of your greatest passions.
Rose…sweet little Rosie… for you I chose the angel that sat atop the Christmas tree. You used to call her the princess angel, and spent hours admiring every detail of her dress and the flowered halo circling her blonde curls. You always had such a sense of style, my dear. It’s no wonder you’ve gotten to where you are today, starting your own design firm. I’m sure your upcoming wedding to Gregory Cunningham will be the most beautiful event Savannah has ever seen. (I know how to use the Internet!)
I am nearly bursting with pride over each of you and your wonderful accomplishments. Though I haven’t been part of your lives for a very long time, I still love you as though you are my own daughters and I hope these keepsakes will spark memories of our Christmases together, just as they did mine.
This Thing Called Love (Forget-Me-Not Ranch Book 2) Page 9
