by Clay, Verna
"However, that's neither here nor there. You, Max, now have the opportunity to either accept ownership of the town and the trust fund that comes with it—a rather substantial one—but still only a pittance compared to your grandfather's other holdings, or reject it and choose to be reunited with the other heirs and receive your share of Rutherford Acquisitions and the headaches that come with owning a mega company. Of course, I'm sure owning a town comes with its own share of headaches, but the choice is up to you."
Ben pushed a paper in front of Max and handed him a pen. "If you sign on the left, you become the owner of Oasis; if you sign on the right, the town remains with your grandfather."
Max accepted the pen, stared his grandfather in the eyes, and then grinned. "This is a no brainer." He signed on the left.
Find out more about Oasis and its residents in
Book II
"BRANDED IN OASIS"
Author's Note
As you no doubt have discovered, Max's sister is a pistol. I have a feeling that "biker" Kade is in for more surprises than he's encountered in his entire thirty years.
For many, Skylar Rutherford—Skye—would make the perfect poster child for spoiled rich girl, but then those judging her don't know the real Skye; a woman whose heart is as big as the sky (sorry, I couldn't help throwing that in).
Anyway, as you've already read in Stranded in Oasis, Max tried to defend his sister to Kade, but the man was being obstinate and judgmental. His very attitude made writing his story fun because I got to humble him (the very thing he tried to do to Skye). As for Skye, she needed a lesson in being more serious. I loved how the storyline unfolded in Branded in Oasis.
Please continue reading for an excerpt from Branded in Oasis, and also two stories from two different series. Baby Kisses is the third book in the Romance on the Ranch Series, and Abby: Mail Order Bride is the first book in the Unconventional Series. All of my books can be read as standalones.
Branded in Oasis (Excerpt) Oasis, Arizona Series #2
1: Pilar's Wedding
Kade Blackwell sat in the second pew in the Methodist Church off Main Street in the small desert town of Oasis. Except for a couple of years living in Phoenix to attend Arizona State University, he'd spent his entire life in Oasis. Sitting next to him, his seventy-eight year old paternal grandmother, Shiloh Blackwell, slipped her hand into his. She leaned toward him and whispered, "I just love weddings. And I can't believe Max's mother couldn't make it to her own son's wedding. I don't think any charity event is more important."
Kade patted her hand and replied, "Pilar said the woman is out of the country, in South America somewhere, I believe. From the way she talked, I guess Max isn't surprised by her absence."
"Well, it's sinful if you ask me," Shiloh retorted.
The preacher began the ceremony and Kade returned his attention to the bride and groom. He was happy for his cousin Pilar. A few years earlier she'd gone through an unpleasant divorce and after a visit to Oasis, made the decision to move there. As a child and teenager, she'd spent a week or two every summer with him and his grandmother. Those visits had ceased after Pilar's mother died of heart failure. After that, Kade had lost contact with her for several years, but since her return, they'd become close again.
Standing beside Max was Willie, Pilar's son from her former marriage. The boy grinned as he watched the ceremony. Over the past few months, he and his soon-to-be stepfather had become close, especially after Max saved the boy from almost drowning in a flash flood.
At nine years old, Willie already knew what he wanted to do with his life and often expressed it. More than anything, he wanted to become a major league baseball player, and he was good at the sport even at his young age.
The bride and groom exchanged rings that Willie proudly handed them. A few minutes later, Pastor Peabody said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Max, you may kiss your bride."
Everyone in the church sighed audibly when Max tenderly kissed Pilar. The newlyweds turned to face the congregation and the pastor said, "I now introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Maximilian Rutherford III."
There were so many guests crammed into the small church that extra chairs had been brought in, and even then, some people stood along the back wall. Everyone clapped, hollered, or whistled as the couple walked down the aisle, followed by Willie and Max's sister, Skylar Rutherford, who had been Pilar's Maid of Honor.
For the briefest moment Kade locked eyes with Skylar, and then quickly glanced away. He'd been avoiding her since her return to Oasis a week earlier. The woman's forthright personality grated on his nerves, not to mention the fact that he was still pissed about her plowing into the Harley he'd been test driving a few months earlier. He'd taken the bike out for a final spin before the owner arrived and Skylar, running a stop sign, had hit the back of the bike. The only real damage had been scuffing to several chrome pieces, but it was enough for him to verbally roast her.
At first, she'd been shaky and apologetic, but after his verbal lashing she'd transitioned from defensive mode to offensive. She'd insisted the reason for the accident was because the stop sign was hidden by tree branches, and not her driving ability. Her brother had shown up and sided with her and promised they'd pay whatever the damages.
Kade might have let the matter drop except for the fact that he knew she was richer than Croesus after having met Max. She had "rich girl" practically stamped on her forehead, and if there was one thing Kade couldn't stand, it was rich girls who never took responsibility for their own actions. He'd insisted on reporting the accident to her insurance company, and followed through with that threat.
After that, things had escalated from bad to worse between him and Skylar—Skye to her family and friends. He found out that she was a professional photographer and during a party hosted by Desert Princess Trailer and RV Park, the park Pilar and Max called home, she'd snapped photos of him on the sly. He'd almost grabbed her camera away from her. Not only was she blatantly obnoxious and outspoken, but she was disrespectful of his privacy.
Kade's attention was returned to the present when an usher moved to the front and motioned for the first row on the bride's side to exit. Pilar's father and stepmother stepped into the aisle, followed by Pinky, Desi, Goody, Vera, and Lilac, close friends and neighbors of Pilar and Max.
The attendees for the groom's side, in the opposite row, moved into the aisle next. First was Max's grandfather, Maximilian Rutherford I, holding the hand of Princess, the owner of the trailer park and local diner. The impressive man bent to say something in Princess's ear and the lady giggled like a teenager. Following them was a portly, but distinguished looking older gentleman and his lady. The couple had been introduced before the ceremony as Ben and Elizabeth Albright, close friends of the Rutherfords. Kade had heard Mr. Albright's name mentioned before by Max and knew he was the family's attorney.
Kade and his grandmother were in the next row on the bride's side to be dismissed. Shiloh held tightly to Kade's arm as they left the church. Outside, the bride and groom had lined up to greet guests on a beautiful, cloudless, spring morning.
Baby Kisses (Excerpt) Romance on the Ranch Series #3
1: Not an Airhead
Tooty drove her old Ford Ranger, gray in color under all the oxidation, to the front of Jacob and Julie Hackstetter's cottage. Parking in a cloud of dust, she sat for a minute and tried to calm her nerves. She was about to meet Maxwell Henry—the famous author. Sarah Tanner, Julie's stepmother, had explained his real name was Miles Brightman, and he was staying at the cottage while Julie and Jacob visited Maude and Clyde Hix in Alaska.
Tooty had often heard stories about the former employees of the Lazy M Ranch and how they had struck it rich as gold prospectors. Now in their eighties and sixties, with Maude being the older, they still lived in the same cabin they'd built after moving to the wilds years earlier. Tooty understood her friends' desire to spend as much time as possible with the old-timers. They were going to have a blast.
&nb
sp; Okay, you've stalled long enough. It's time to get the embarrassing part over.
Tooty bit her thumbnail and still didn't move to open her door. She remembered Miles from Julie and Jacob's wedding reception. He was the guy in the wheelchair. Actually, he was the hot older guy in the wheelchair. Even now, she cringed remembering their encounter. She'd gone in search of her mischievous four-year old and seen him checking out the man's wheelchair. When she'd approached, she'd heard Harris say, "Hi, my name is Harris and, hey, that's a really cool chair. Ya wanna take me for a ride?"
Rushing forward, she hadn't reached Harris in time to stop him from climbing onto the man's lap. The startled expression on the guy's face had said everything. He wasn't used to kids. Besides that, she didn't know how severe his physical challenge was and whether Harris could injure him. When she'd reached to grab her son off his lap, he'd said, "No, leave him." After that, he'd told Harris about his wheelchair and shown him how to operate it, both manually and with battery assistance. Of course, Harris had been fascinated and oblivious to his faux pas of just climbing on the guy's lap. With a mixture of mortification and gratitude, she'd stepped to the sidelines to watch.
The man had finally said, "Well, Harris, looks like your mother is waiting for you, you better hop off now."
That's when Tooty had stepped forward. As she'd bent to help her son down, he'd glanced from her to the nice man and said, "Hey, I need a daddy. You wanna marry my mommy? Don't you think she's pretty?"
Tooty had looked from her son's innocent brown eyes into the man's Mediterranean blue ones and literally froze. She'd seen his shocked expression and then a slight quirk of his lips, like he was trying not to laugh. Before he could say anything, she'd jerked Harris off his lap. "I'm really sorry. My son just says whatever pops into his mind."
Harris defended himself. "But Mommy, Grammy says it too. She says I need a daddy and you need a man. What's wrong with him?"
"Ah…ah…I'm really sorry." Knowing there was no way to salvage their fiasco, she'd simply walked away carrying Harris. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life. Every cell in her body had felt on fire—even her scalp.
Shaking the memory and inhaling a calming breath, Tooty forced her hand to the door handle. She was turning scarlet just thinking about meeting Mr. Brightman and she had half a mind to flip the ignition key, back the truck up, and peel out of the drive, never looking back. Of course, she wouldn't do that. She needed to earn money, but, more importantly, she'd never forgive herself if she turned down an opportunity to work with a famous author—an author whose every book she'd read at least twice.
* * *
Miles shifted his wheelchair so he could see out the living room window. He watched the young woman step from her battered pickup. So this was the girl with the strange first name that Sarah had referred. Her dark, strawberry blonde hair looked familiar. When she'd almost reached the porch, recognition slammed him and he groaned. It was the girl from the wedding; the one with the cute, but rascally little boy—the boy who'd ask him to marry his mommy and become his daddy. He groaned again when the doorbell rang.
Rolling his chair to the door he pasted on a smile. "Hello, please come in," he said politely.
The girl opened the screen and he backed his chair up.
"H-hello. My name is Tooty Townsend and Sarah said you were looking for a personal assistant."
He rolled toward the back of the house. "Let's go to the kitchen. I've got coffee brewing and we can talk about it." He paused at the kitchen entrance and waited for her to enter. She waited for him to enter. Finally, he said, "Please go in and pour yourself a cup of coffee; that is if you drink coffee. I think there's tea in the fridge."
Self consciously, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay." She walked past him. At the counter, she reached for one of the cups he'd set out and lifted the pot. "Can I pour you one, too?"
"Yes, please." He guided his chair to the drop leaf table and motioned for her to sit across from him. She set his coffee in front of him and took a seat. He poured cream into his brew and motioned with the pitcher to see if she wanted some. She nodded, and he poured. "Tell me when."
"That's good."
"Sugar?"
"No, thank you."
When she lifted her cup to her lips, he noticed her hand was trembling. Damn. He didn't want to scare the girl. She didn't look much older than eighteen or nineteen and she was probably much too immature to work as a personal assistant, but then again, she already had a child. That could mature a person fast.
"I–"
"Please–"
They both spoke at the same time. Miles cleared his throat, "You first."
She looked at him with big brown doe's eyes. "I just want to apologize for the incident at the wedding reception. My son can be quite vocal, but he's only four years old…" she defended him, but didn’t finish her sentence.
Miles chuckled. "No apology necessary. At least he speaks his mind. No beating around the bush."
His words seemed to ease her nervousness and she sipped her coffee again without trembling.
"Your turn," she said.
It took him a second to realize that she was waiting for him to say what he had been about to. "Oh, I was just going to ask you to convey any experience you've had in working as a personal assistant." He watched her eyes slide to the table.
"Um, I-I haven't actually worked as a personal assistant, but I did good in school and I'm an avid reader. I've read all your books. I also worked for Mrs. Smiley at Beautyluscious Beauty Shop as the receptionist for six months. The reason I'm not still there is because she retired and the new owner laid me off to save money."
Miles wanted to groan. He'd let her down easy. Keeping a straight face, he asked, "Are you working anywhere now?"
"Uh, yes."
She didn't elaborate, and he finally prompted, "Can you tell me where you're working and what you're doing?"
"I-I work after hours at Boot Bustin' Barn cleaning the club. The owner said he's gonna work me into a waitress position when I turn twenty-one."
Miles stared at his coffee cup. This interview was going nowhere fast, and even though she'd indicated she'd read his books, he wondered how literate she was.
"Do you know anything about computers? Do you think you could handle checking and replying to emails?" He glanced up, surprised to see an almost hostile expression on her face.
Before he could say anything, she said, "I think I can handle checking emails and writing correspondence. And yes, just in case you're wondering, I have a high school degree and I can read and write. Sarah wouldn't have sent me if she didn't think I was capable. However, it appears that you have doubts, so I'll just say goodbye and wish you the best in finding the right person."
She started to stand and Miles darted his hand to hers. "Wait. I didn't mean that to come out quite the way it did. It's just that you're so young and I want to be sure–"
She interrupted, "You want to be sure I'm not an airhead."
Damn it. She was twisting his words. He looked at her, and said, "Exactly."
A tiny smile drew up the corners of her mouth. "Mr. Brightman, I had a child when I was sixteen and I've been taking care of both of us ever since. I assure you, I am not an airhead. But I'll release you from having to make the decision of whether or not to hire me. Good day." She stood.
"You've got the job. Be here at nine tomorrow morning."
Abby: Mail Order Bride (Excerpt) Unconventional Series #1
1: Courage or Folly?
Abigail picked up the newspaper advertisement for the hundredth time, read it again, reread it, and tossed it back on the desk in her library. Smoothing her hand over the sides of her auburn hair and the bun at the nape of her neck, she pushed her chair back and walked from the library to the parlor. Pacing the length of the lovely room, she stopped occasionally to straighten a vase or lift a family photo, all the while contemplating something so crazy it made her heart pound.
After
an hour, she squared her shoulders, returned to the library, sat at her desk, slipped a piece of stationary from the drawer, reached for her ink and quill, and wrote:
March 18, 1886
Dear Mr. Samson,
I am writing to introduce myself. My name is Abigail Mary Vaughn and I read your classified advertisement in the Philadelphia Inquirer seeking a wife to help raise your three children. I would like to recommend myself. By trade, I am a teacher and that would benefit your children.
I have never been married and I am thirty-eight years old. I have lived in Philadelphia all my life and taught school for the past eighteen years. I am an only child and my parents died last year so there are no responsibilities keeping me here. I have always desired my own family, but circumstances of caring for my elderly parents prevented that.
I do not believe in withholding information, so I have been candid in my response to you. I hope to hear from you.
—Miss Abigail Mary Vaughn
Before she could react and change her mind, Abigail enclosed the letter in an envelope and asked Harry Puffins, her old servant, to walk it to the post office not far from her home near the city's center.
* * *
Brant removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through hair as black as coal. Standing in front of the blacksmith's where he'd just had his horse shod, he heard his daughter calling from the entrance to Clyde Jenkins General Store across the street. Clyde, being the most likely candidate, was also the postmaster for the central eastern Texas town of Two Rivers. Jenny held her baby brother in one arm and waved letters in the other. "Hey Pa, you got more mail. Maybe you'll find us a Ma in this bunch."
