by Fiona Lowe
Picture Perfect Wedding
By Fiona Lowe
Book two of Wedding Fever
Erin Davis will do whatever it takes to be the photographer for high-end brides. So what if capturing the moments of people’s lives means she has no time for her own. Nothing will get between her and the security she craves, not even the gorgeous farmer refusing to let her shoot in his sunflowers.
His family has always been tied to the land, but lately Luke Anderson feels more like he’s chained. While he ponders his future, he still has cows to milk and no time to deal with Erin or Bridezillas in his fields. Yet there’s something about the sexy city girl he can’t say no to. So he says yes: just this once.
With the town in need of a photographer, Erin agrees to spend wedding season in Whitetail. The sparks flying between her and Luke quickly ignite, but just as Erin starts to picture her own happy ending, Luke takes a gamble that could risk it all...
For more weddings in Whitetail, check out Saved by the Bride, available now!
100,000 words
Dear Reader,
I feel as though every month I start my letter the same, gushing over our month of releases and telling you how amazing and fantastic they are. This month, I’m going to change things up and start by telling you that they’re all quite awful. Okay, not really. Poor authors, I wonder how many of them reading this just had a mini heart attack? Of course you should be excited about this lineup of releases, because it’s another wonderful and diverse month.
In the new-and-unique category, this month we have our first ever decide-your-own-erotic-adventure. Christine d’Abo’s Choose Your Shot is an interactive erotic adventure that not only lets the reader choose who the heroine ends up with, but what kinky fun the characters get up to along the way.
We’re thrilled to welcome Karina Cooper to Carina Press. She’s moving her steampunk series, The St. Croix Chronicles, to Carina Press—starting with a prequel novella, The Mysterious Case of Mr. Strangeway, in which a young Cherry St. Croix takes on her first bounty, only to find her efforts challenged by a collector whose motives run deeper than a hefty purse. Look for book three in The St. Croix Chronicles, Corroded, releasing in September 2013.
We have a strong lineup of contemporary romances this month. Fiona Lowe returns with her next Wedding Fever book, Picture Perfect Wedding. Tamara Morgan brings us The Derby Girl, in which a roller-derby girl lives up to her “bad girl” image to woo an unattainable plastic surgeon, only to discover that he’s the one man trained to see past the surface. In the humorous contemporary romance category, Stacy Gail’s Ugly Ducklings Finish First will be a hit with fans of high-school reunion romances, and with those who like their romance on the more lighthearted side.
I’m also thrilled to welcome three debut authors to Carina Press this month, all with contemporary romances. In Kelsey Browning’s Personal Assets, book one of the Texas Nights series, a recovering good girl needs the right man to help her find her inner bad girl—which is easier said than done in a small Texas town. Next, when the bank refuses Emma the loan she needs to save her family home, she must turn to her neighbor Mitch McKenna, a sexy real-estate investor whose reputation she’s spent the past six months pulverizing into sand, in Unexpectedly You by Lily Santana. And last, but certainly not least, Knowing the Score by Kat Latham features a smokin’ hot rugby player with a scandalous past who gives up his vow of celibacy to help a virgin overcome her fear of intimacy. Three debut authors offer up three terrific contemporary romance novels—make sure to give them each a try!
This month we also have three fantastic male/male romances. Kim Knox kicks off a fun-filled science-fiction historical trilogy. As described by the author, Agamemnon Frost and the House of Death is Sherlock Holmes meets The Scarlet Pimpernel. With aliens. Check out further Agamemnon Frost stories in September and October 2013.
John Tristan joins Carina Press with his male/male fantasy romance, The Adorned. A beautiful young man indentures himself to a tattooist and becomes a living canvas for the artist and his inhuman patrons. And for those who like their male/male romance in the contemporary genre, Libby Drew’s Bending the Iron is sure to hit the mark as she builds a brand for emotional, wonderful male/male romance.
Following book one of her Magick Trilogy, Magick by Moonrise, Laura Navarre takes us back into her historical paranormal world. When the Angel of Death falls in love with life, will a secret Tudor princess pay the ultimate price? Tudor England and the celestial realm collide in Midsummer Magick.
Last, Love Letters Volume 4: Travel to Temptation continues the collection of A to Z erotic short-story romances penned by Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale and Maggie Wells. Volumes 1 through 3 are now available. Look for volumes 5 and 6, Exposed and Cowboy’s Command, on sale in September and October 2013.
As always, we have a significant backlist of books that I hope you’ll browse and take a look at, in genres from horror to mystery to fantasy to female/female and across the ranges of romance. There’s an adventure waiting for every reader!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Acknowledgments
Writing a book wouldn’t be possible without the generous help of so many people. Special thanks to Amanda and Swaney for introducing me to Maggie-May, cow-dog extraordinaire. Please forgive the liberty of exchanging the echidna bark for an American coon bark.
A thousand thanks to Dairy Carrie and to Jessica, The Modern Farmwife. Not only have I enjoyed your entertaining blogs about life on a dairy, I’ve appreciated very much the time you took to patiently answer my emails. Any mistakes I’ve made about AI, calving and milking are solely mine.
Thanks also to Kari Lynn who introduced me to Tim and the other fabulous dairy men and women on Twitter who tweet from their tractors! And to Mark for his invaluable advice about sunflowers. I would have been lost without you all. Go #Agchat!
Special thanks to my good friend Doris from Wisconsin who took me out to visit a family farm. Poor Farmer Doug had no clue he was going to be quizzed to within an inch of his life by an Aussie who calls four-wheelers quad bikes, and Holstein cows Friesians. Thanks, Doug, for allowing me to witness a herd health check, for answering all my questions in such detail and for the special opportunity to tour your farm.
Thanks to the entire team at Carina Press and with special mention of my wonderful editor, Charlotte. Carrie and Stephanie who answer all my queries so cheerfully, Tara and team for the gorgeous cover, and Angela for her enthusiastic support of digital-first.
Last but not least, I give thanks to my family whose love, support and belief in me keeps me going.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seve
nteen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
About the Author
Copyright
Whitetail Bugle: Online Edition
Positions Vacant/Wanted
Relief milker required at Lakeview Farm. Call Luke Anderson (715-555-8391) or stop by the farm.
Relief cleaner for Lakeview B&B and cottages. Call Wade Anderson NOT Luke.
(715-555-8399)
Chicago Daily News
Business opportunity! Weary of fast-paced city life? Move your photography business to Whitetail,
Wisconsin, land of lakes, glorious sunsets and brides. Call Nicole at Affairs With Hair at
715-555-4351
Twitter
@ErinDavis. You captured our wedding day perfectly. Thank you!
Chapter One
At dee end of dee road, turn left.
“Right you are, Patrick.” Erin Davis answered her GPS with a grin. She might be in the heart of the dairy state and surrounded by cornfields and cows, but inside the car with her playlist blaring, she was having an Irish day. Anything to make the time pass quicker on this unexpected country dash across state lines.
The Cranberries started singing about dreams. Personally, Erin thought dreams were overrated having lived through the fallout of ten too many of her father’s ill-conceived ideas. No, she was more of a risk-free planner. She had a gut filled with determination, a goal in sight and, most importantly, a step-by-step chart of objectives which she was ticking off one by one. The brides she’d photographed were thrilled with her work and recommended her to their friends and family, but as great as word of mouth was, it was all slower than she’d hoped. Bottom line? She could do with more bridal bookings so she could give up her loathsome part-time waitressing job.
A memory of accompanying her mother to a pawn shop and watching the pain as she parted with her own mother’s watch quickly reminded her that a slow and steady build of a business was better than a fast rise and a spectacular bust. Things were going okay and if she had anything to do with it, all her hard work would lead to her becoming the wedding photographer that brides all over the Midwest and beyond would book the moment the sparkly ring was slipped on their finger.
“I make everyone look happy no matter what and I do it good, hey, Maggie-May.”
Her Maltese–Shih Tzu terrier cross and fluffy-white sidekick yapped her You know it, girl approval.
The only dark cloud right now was the fact that her current bride wasn’t happy, hence the reason Erin was driving from Minneapolis, through lands filled with lakes, to a dot on the map called Whitetail, Wisconsin. It was Erin’s mantra to do everything she could to keep her brides happy and with Constance Littlejohn, she was doing that and then some. Unlike her name, Connie was far from constant but she had an open checkbook, shared a great idea and she was Erin’s ticket to winning the prestigious “Memories” photo competition for bridal photographers. Winning the Memmy, as it was affectionately known in the industry, would be a pinnacle career point and one Erin wanted not just for the professional accolades but for the security it would give her business. The security she craved so she could sleep at night.
The Welcome to Whitetail—Weddings That Wow sign announced she’d arrived at the town. She’d never heard of it until Connie had dropped a copy of US Bride on her desk open at the article about Chicago heiress Bridget Callahan’s wedding. Connie had said, “I want the same only bigger, better and with a twist.” Erin had enthusiastically accepted the challenge.
She smiled as she passed under a banner announcing a wedding tomorrow and she immediately had to slow for a horse pulling an empty, white carriage. Used to photographing couples in a carriage amid the tall buildings of Minneapolis, she instantly thought of the pretty lake and covered bridge she’d driven past earlier. It would make the perfect backdrop with the early evening light. A fizz of excitement bubbled through her and she made a mental note to discuss it with Connie.
She pressed the GPS to check on her instructions again because she had the world’s worst sense of direction and routinely got lost in her hometown. Out here in the boonies, she had no hope without support.
In one quarter mile, take the second left.
She groaned. “Patrick, my lovely, that’s all very well but exactly how far is one quarter mile?”
As a photographer she could visualize setups, solve the problems of large group poses, deal with light and depth like a puzzle, but tell her something was fifty feet away and she had no clue and winged it every time. She glanced in her rearview mirror. Unlike the city, at least she didn’t have a line of traffic behind her and she doubted the orange tractor would catch up to her. She’d crawl along until the red arrow on the GPS actually showed her the turn and that way she’d avoid her usual mistake of turning too early.
The bridal march ring tone on her cell phone chirped, cutting across U2 and telling her it was a client. Her old station wagon had been built long before cell phones were de rigueur and Bluetooth was mandatory so she used the cutting-edge technology of yelling at her phone which rested in a designated bracket on the dash. “Hi, it’s Erin.”
“Have you spoken to him yet?” Connie’s high-pitched voice demanded.
Erin was used to Connie’s direct approach. “I haven’t quite reached the farm, but according to Patrick, I’m not far away.”
“Who?”
“Patrick. He’s the gorgeous Irish voice on my GPS.”
A puff of breath came down the phone. “Concentrate, Erin. I’m talking about Farmer Joe or whatever his name is.”
Erin mentally slapped herself. Connie was a busy woman who rarely had time for jokes. The soon-to-be bride was engaged to a man who wanted to marry her and, by default, she had no understanding or need of imaginary chats with a sexy, lilting Irish accent. Nor would she understand that those conversations were as close as Erin had come to a date in months. Working every weekend, whether it be photography or waitressing, made it hard to meet people.
That and the fact you put the business ahead of everything.
She did and she had no problem. She was investing in a secure future and that meant pleasing her clients. She gave herself a shake. “Sorry. Yes, I’m totally concentrating. I know how important this is to you.” How important it is to me.
“Good, because you have to make this happen for me.”
When Connie had outlined her ideas for her wedding photos, she’d assured Erin that everything in Whitetail was organized. She’d told her that the bride and groom got the keys to the town for their day and there’d be no problem with the photo shoot because Connie had a friend of a friend whose cousin had married a man who knew a farmer in the county. Erin—perhaps naively—had believed her right up until the mercy phone call she’d received at four yesterday afternoon.
People often commented on Erin’s people skills so she had no doubt that making personal contact with the farmer and getting him to agree to the use of his field would all be a walk in the park. “I promise you, it’s all going to work out just fine.”
“It better. I’ve left him thirteen messages this week and he hasn’t returned a single one of them.”
Thirteen seemed a lot. Erin slowed, signaled, turned left and automatically put on her soothing voice. “Connie, I’m sure you have a ton of other wedding things that need your attention and I have this. I’m almost at the fa
rm and by suppertime everything will be just fine.”
“Farmers are always crying poor, right, so if you need to, double the money,” Connie instructed. “Offer him a few nights at Daddy’s hotel so he can get out of the country and live a little in the city. Do what you have to do, just get me that sunflower field.”
The line went dead just as Patrick said, Go straight.
The minor county road wound through rolling green pastureland dotted with red-and-white barns and tall, blue silos. In the distance, she could see stands of birch, beech and aspen trees as well as her favorite Christmas tree, the white spruce which up until now she’d only seen growing on a Christmas tree farm. Raised in a series of cities, she was struck by the mix of light and dark green leaves that contrasted so beautifully with the clear, blue sky. Beyond the trees lay the shimmering water of a large lake which she assumed must be the one the many signs in Whitetail had pointed to promising “the perfect vacation.” The vibrant colors of nature combined with such clarity and vividness that she pulled over.
“We have to shoot this, Maggie-May, it’s truly beautiful.” Grabbing her dog and her camera, she jumped out of the car and took some long shots to help satisfy the urge she had to go exploring rather than keeping on task.
Ten minutes later she was back in the car, following Patrick’s instructions, although the last turn right had her worried. The farmland seemed to have disappeared and she was driving through dappled light cast by a thousand trees, and there wasn’t a cow in sight. She consulted her backup map but it only showed the main county roads and, given this road was unpaved and she’d passed a brown sign a mile ago that had proclaimed Rustic Road, she was pretty certain she needed to go back. There wasn’t a lot of room to do a U-turn and the edges of the road looked decidedly soft. She felt every inch a city girl in a foreign place. “Patrick, my gorgeous hunk, where are we?”
