by Layne, Lyssa
“I need to go to the hotel and get my clothes,” she said.
“You don’t need clothes.”
He carried her to his bed to prove it. Several times.
~*~
Later, they microwaved pasta and settled cross-legged on Johnny’s cream-colored sofa to eat. His dogs lay at their feet, tails wagging in anticipation of a treat.
“They’re well trained,” Montana said.
“I wish I could take credit,” Johnny said. “But I had to hire someone because I was gone too much to do it myself.”
“When will your tour start?” She took a bite of fettuccini. Delicious. Her rebellious stomach didn’t threaten to heave.
“Supposed to be in June, but with a wedding to plan and new baby on the way, we’ll have to postpone.”
Montana’s appetite vanished. “No.”
“What?” He frowned.
“You’re not canceling your tour,” she said. “I want a courthouse wedding and a reception at the ranch after the baby comes. Nothing fancy or pretentious.”
“I have to be with you for the kid’s birth,” he said.
When he started to protest more, she held up her hand. “For the birth, yes. For the first few days until I figure things out, yeah. But I’m not a helpless twit who’s going to choke the life out of you. My grandmother gave birth on a wagon train in the middle of the Kansas prairie while she had five other children to manage. I can handle one while you take care of your business.”
“Come on the road with me,” he invited.
She laughed. “An entourage that includes a newborn?”
“Why not? It would be less crowded than a wagon train.”
Her laughter vanished. “I don’t want to raise this child in L.A. I want him or her to grow up like I did with horses and dogs”—she glanced at the mutts at her feet—“and clean fresh air in a place where you can play all day long and know you’re safe. I don’t want him or her to know Rodeo Drive or the Sunset Strip.”
“I want that, too.” He looked toward the ocean, then back to her. “I’m in the middle of recording and I don’t have time to build a studio in Colorado right now, which is what I want to eventually do. Would you consider spending part of the week here with me? Then fly home every weekend until the album’s done? After the tour, I’d like to live in Colorado full time.”
Montana’s heart sang with joy, so full she thought it might burst. Johnny Cortez offered far more than she’d ever hoped for. The family she’d always wanted.
Food forgotten, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Yes, rock star, yes.”
WATCH FOR ANOTHER ROCK STAR TO LAND IN BLACK MOUNTAIN SOON! IN THE MEANTIME, THERE ARE TWO FULL LENGTH NOVELS, A COLLECTION OF NOVELLAS AND A CHRISTMAS NOVELLA IN THE COWBOYS OF BLACK MOUNTAIN SERIES:
A Cowboy To Keep
When Laney Ellis’ husband is killed by a bull, she is left alone to run their small cattle ranch and raise their son, Justin, on her own. One thing she is determined her son will never do is ride rodeo bulls. But that is the dream Justin holds dearest—to be exactly like his dad, the onetime Colorado State High School Rodeo Champion.
After his rodeo career peaks and begins to slide, Cody Utah opens a bull riding school. Although attracted to his next door neighbor, he steers clear. Cody has heard rumors Laney trapped her husband into marriage by getting pregnant in high school. The last thing Cody wants is children. His mother was a drunk, and he doesn’t know who his father is.
A bull's hooves turned Laney’s world to dust; bull riding gave Cody a life worth living—can they find common ground?
Promise Me Eden
Adam Pelletier is at the end of his rope. He can’t figure a way to help his wife recover from the tragic stillbirth of their son. He hasn’t forgotten their boy, but Adam has pushed his grief down deep and is coping the only way he knows how—by refusing to focus on his loss and burying himself in work.
Eden Pelletier is lost in grief. The pain for her is unbearable. So much so she’s in a deep hole of depression she can’t climb out of. Unable to do anything but think about her dead son, she can’t understand why Adam is able to put him aside and carry on. She’s so heartbroken she’s lost her job. When Adam pushes her to get up and move on, she lashes out—asking for a divorce she doesn’t want.
Can Adam win his wife back before it’s too late?
Ladies Love Cowboys: the daughters of Clem Jamieson
All Shiloh Jamieson dreams of is a chance to make it in the country music business. Unfortunately, her mother—a bitter failure in the biz—stands in Shiloh’s way. Shiloh’s determined not to repeat her mother’s actions—sleeping her way into the Nashville music scene. Not even when sexy superstar Dillon Travers moves to Black Mountain.
As half Native American, Clancy Jamieson knows the pain of being bullied. Growing up fatherless hasn’t helped, either. She trusts no one but herself and her horses. When her prize gelding is injured, she is forced to depend upon Veterinarian Braden VanDerrCarr.
Runaway bride Amity Levore heads to Black Mountain to regroup after she flees her own wedding. She’s been running away from commitment her entire life. Her father’s absence in her life has made her leery of love. Can R.J. Hadley, the hottest volunteer fireman around, make her rethink her stand?
Starla Jamieson has never wanted a child of her own because between helping raise her younger brothers and a dozen half-sisters, she’s parented plenty. To avoid the motherhood trap, she walked away from Trevor Lee—the only man she ever wanted.
Sunny Jamieson craves a normal family so much she has gotten pregnant by the wrong man—twice. Neither was the man she thought he was, and she is alone and about to give birth in an ice storm. Bull rider Garret Pike is the last person she expects to be her angel in Wranglers.
Mariah Kline uproots her entire life for a chance to get to know her absentee father. When she arrives in Black Mountain, everything she believed turns out to be a lie. With no money and nowhere to go, she reluctantly accepts help from Jesse Rafferty, a sexy cowboy.
A Black Mountain Christmas
Noelle Jackson would rather find coal in her stocking than spend Christmas in Black Mountain, Colorado. But her best friend’s wedding means putting aside her reluctance. What she doesn’t count on is falling hard for a sexy cowboy who changes her mind about love.
When an angel driving a red Mustang runs Nick Hadley's sleigh off the road, his first reaction is indignation. His second is awe. The beautiful woman makes him forget his past and look straight into the future. If he takes a chance on love, she will change his life forever
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Falling in love with romance novels the summer before sixth grade, D’Ann Lindun never thought about writing one until many years later when she took a how-to class at her local college. She was hooked! She began writing and never looked back. Thirty-two manuscripts and numerous awards later, she is an Amazon bestseller! Romance appeals to D’Ann because there's just something so satisfying about writing a book guaranteed to have a happy ending. Her particular favorites usually feature cowboys and the women who love them.
D’Ann loves to hear from readers! Please contact her at:
[email protected]
http://dlindunauthor.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/DLindunAuthor
https://twitter.com/DLindun
http://www.amazon.com/DAnn-Lindun/e/B008DKL9TU
Street team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/838870409506195/
Forever Love
A Wilder Sisters Novella
Melissa Keir
Other Books by Melissa Keir
Wilder Sisters Series:
Forever Love
Beach Desires
A Christmas Accident
**
Charming Chances:
Charming Chances (print of combined ebooks)
Second Time’s a Charm
Three’s a Crowd
**
Pi
gg Detective Agency:
Protecting His Wolfe
Protecting Her Pigg
**
Magical Matchmaker
Chalkboard Romance
One Night in Laguna
**
Crash and Burn
Love, Bake, Write (recipe book)
We’d Rather Be Writing (recipe book)
Musings of a Madcap Mind (memoirs)
**
Book Bundles
Cowboy Up
Cowboy Up 2
Cowboy, Mine
Cowboys Forever
Cowboy Time
Cowboys, Bulls and Buckles
Summer Heat
To Protect and Love
Forever Love
Copyright © 2013 Melissa Keir
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
To TJ, who will always be remembered as my first kiss and to my husband, who will be my last.
CHAPTER ONE
Winding my way down the Ohio Turnpike gave me a lot of time to think. Unless you counted the many big rigs on the road, there wasn’t much to look at while driving. Having left behind small-town life, I was nervous about coming home. It’s funny. I’ve lived in Chicago for the last fifteen years, but still considered this small town, Amherst, my home. I don’t know what scared me more—coming back to a small town after having escaped it or facing the demons that caused me to leave in the first place.
When Dad called last week, he sounded so exhausted it scared me. My memories of this robust man with a wicked sense of humor didn’t fit the voice on the other end. When we were children, he would chase us around the house, trying to catch and tickle us. He taught me and my sisters how to shoot guns, ice fish, and ride our bikes. We stood on his feet as he twirled us around the room to Dean Martin songs, teaching us to dance. When I was older, Dad was the formidable bear that boyfriends had to get past in order to date us. I had only seen him cry once, at my mother’s funeral. In other words, he was our first hero. No other man could measure up.
This man, who had worked in the steel mills all his life and scared away my childhood monsters, was older now and needed me. There was no question about whether or not I would go home. That’s what family is for. Of course, as the oldest, it was my job to help out, but also my career allowed me to move back to Ohio and be there for Dad. My four sisters were wrapped up in various enterprises, either trying to establish themselves in their careers or getting situated in new homes. My jewelry website and store could be run from Amherst as easily as it could from Chicago.
The urge to take a look around town before heading to Dad’s hit me, so I exited the turnpike and headed left toward Lake Erie. Driving past so many memories unleashed the ghosts of my past, both good times and bad.
Amherst was already showing sad signs of the economy that many cities were currently faced with—empty storefronts, unrepaired roads and a vast sadness in the eyes of its people. Finding work was even harder in a small town than it was in a big city like Chicago. Unless you owned your own business or worked for the city government, you worked for one of the three big mega-corporations that had plants nearby.
There was an arcane quaintness about Amherst, from its brick-covered streets to its old sandstone buildings. There were churches dotting almost every corner of the town. People still gathered regularly at the small town diner right in the heart of downtown on Main Street. Nothing had really changed in the fifteen years since I left. How sad, I thought pulling into my dad’s driveway. It appears I’ve changed more than the town. I wonder if anyone will even recognize me anymore.
Frightened, nervous, and anxious were all good words to describe how I was feeling as I grabbed my overnight bag and purse and approached the door. The first man I ever loved stood behind the screen door, watching me with a smile on his face. I gave him a big hug, then we went inside and sat down in the living room. “Gosh, I’ve missed you, Dad!”
“How was your drive? Did you get something to eat? Are you hungry?” Yep, that’s my family, always trying to feed you as soon as you walk through the door. Food has always been a large part of our family gatherings, from the special traditional soup at Easter to the canned treats from our summer garden.
“The drive wasn’t too bad once I got away from Chicago, and no thanks on the food. I stopped along the turnpike and grabbed a sandwich.” I looked around the room and noted the house hadn’t changed since I left. In fact, my childhood rocking chair still sat over in a corner of the living room. It felt good coming home to a comfortable place, for sure, but it was strange to do it as a grown woman who faced down things like scary spiders on her own.
“Then something to drink,” he announced as he climbed out of the recliner and headed for the kitchen. From the living room, there was a straight view into the kitchen. As I watched him putter around, I noticed how old my father looked. He still had a full head of dark hair, although now it had more gray around the edges. My dad always was a handsome guy. The crow’s feet that etched his face gave him character, as well as showing evidence of the hard life he spent working to bring home a paycheck to support our family. The lines weren’t really what made him seem old, though. It was the curve of his shoulders that made him look older, like the weight of the world was on him now. I hope my being around will help.
Settling in that first night was challenging. I felt like a child again, back home with Dad. It had been awhile since I slept in a twin bed. Every little sound and noise startled me, but there was comfort in knowing that I was here in case Dad needed me.
After leaving the local steel mill, Dad had enjoyed a happy retirement, going fishing and drinking at the local Veterans of Foreign Wars club with his buddies. But in the last six months, he seemed to be forgetting things. When this first began, he would call me two to three times a day with the same piece of important information, often forgetting we’d just talked. Then, there was the frantic phone call he made from the grocery store, unable to figure out how to get home. Thank goodness his memory loss only lasted about five minutes that time. I was so far away and couldn’t help him. My sisters and I didn’t want to think about Alzheimer’s, but our minds always came back to that possibility. One of us moving back to Amherst was our only solution, to discreetly discover the cause of my father’s forgetfulness.
Dawn shone bright the next morning. I was anxious to do something, anything. I wasn’t used to having time on my hands. With the change in location, I didn’t have all the tools needed to begin working on my jewelry. Those boxes were coming later in the week. After putting on jeans and a T-shirt, I decided to take a drive to the local beach, which held a lot of memories for me. Hopefully walking along the shore would lead to finding some sea glass for my designs.
As I approached the beach from the road, I saw the picnic area and park where families ate and children played. My grandparents often took us to play in this park, with its giant Easter basket, beautiful fountain, and lawn-bowling court. I parked in an empty spot, watching the children playing on the sand near the water’s edge and remembering my times here. This park held more than just good times with my grandparents. It held numerous memories of teenage make-out sessions behind fogged-up windows with nameless boys from my past. I was a good girl, so kissing was the most I’d do, it cost me many a boyfriend. I remembered how we would all bring our cars to the parking lot to listen to loud music and dance. It was a place to both see and be seen by everyone. It’s funny how a child’s playground could turn into a place for such behavior as soon as the sun goes down.
After getting out of my car, I hiked down the stairs. It was a mild September day, and the beach was fairly empty—just myself and a few seagulls. I walked slowly along the shoreline with my head down, not noticing the person swimming in the water until he began to climb out of the surf.
A dark, cropped haircut framed a face so beautiful that it could be described as the face of a Roman god. He had a strong nose and jawline that showed just a sprinkling of whisker
stubble. However, it was his body that made me pause. His muscular shoulders and upper arms looked like they could carry a girl off to bed. His wet torso was covered with hair that immediately drew my eyes and tempted me to caress it. The chest hair tapered down his narrow waist and seemed to lead the way to paradise. I stopped walking and just stared. God, please let there be no drool dripping off my chin. This guy was smokin’ hot! Then he smiled and I noticed his face, complete with a little dimple in his chin. He seemed familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I recognized him from. When he saw that I noticed him, he winked as if he recognized me too.
“Hello! Nice day for a walk, huh? The weather has been kind to us this year.” He spoke and my knees wobbled. His voice was like chocolate, smooth and delicious.
“Hi…Yes…I’m glad the weather is nice enough to get out, but isn’t the water too cold for a swim?”
“Not at all. I enjoy my morning workouts after a long shift at the station. You don’t remember me, do you, Syndie?”
My mind was drawing a blank. How did he know my name? Who was this hottie? “Not really. You do look familiar, but I can’t place you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a long time. We grew up together, our parents were best friends. We even went out in high school. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, you hightailed it out of Amherst like your butt was on fire after graduation. We never saw each other again. I’m Thom Johnson, but everyone called me T.J.”
Oh wow. I’ve got a lot on my plate and he has changed over the years, but to not know someone so connected to most of my life was baffling. This man had been my best childhood friend. I was T.J.’s girlfriend for a while, but he dumped me for someone who put out. Before we went out in high school, I grew up with images in my head of him as the ideal guy. Our families encouraged our dating, thinking we were perfect together. When he dumped me, it broke my heart. I couldn’t stand watching him move on without me.
