The Taming of the Bachelor

by Jane Porter

  The fight was beginning to leave her. She stared up at him, worn out, and confused. “Dillon, I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t. And I didn’t understand, either, not until after you left Austin and I thought about everything you said. For days all I did was go over and over everything we talked about, driving to Fredericksburg, driving back, and I realized in all those different conversations you never once mentioned perfection.”

  Her brows tugged. She looked at him, bemused.

  “You never asked me to be perfect,” he added quietly. “And maybe it’s okay if I’m not perfect.”

  “Why would you think you had to be perfect?”

  “Because otherwise I’m going to screw up, and hurt you, and let you and the kids down.”

  “Dillon, no one is perfect. We’re human. We’re always going to disappoint each other. We just have to forgive, and love.”

  “And show up.”

  She suddenly understood. She could hear her words back in Austin, the things she’d told him about just showing up. Being there. The lump was back in her throat. “You showed up last night at the Science Fair,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Had to. Couldn’t miss the Science Fair.”

  She struggled to smile through her tears. “And you showed up again tonight.”

  “And I’m going to show up every day from now on. I’m here for you, Paige. Here for you, and the kids. I want to be with you, all three of you. I want to make this work.”

  “Showing up this weekend was a good start.”

  “Do you think your kids could accept me in their lives long term?”

  “Absolutely, but Dillon, our lives aren’t like your life in Austin. Our lives are messy, filled with noise and tears and chaos.”

  “I had four older brothers. I can handle it.”

  She was silent a moment, digesting everything. “So how do we do this?”

  “I don’t think just shacking up would be right. I’d like to think we’d marry, and move in together—”

  “You’d move back to Marietta for us?”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

  “And Tutro?”

  “Troy commutes to California. There’s no reason I can’t go back and forth to Texas.”

  “That would be such a strain on you.”

  “But it’d make things easier on you, and you could stay in your house—”

  “Oh, Dillon, no! I hate that house.”

  “What?”

  She grimaced. “Okay, I don’t hate it, but it’s too much for me, and it’s been too much for years. I never really wanted an old house, either, but I thought it would be fun to own something with ‘history’. I was wrong.”

  Frowning, he lightly traced one brow, and then the other. “So, just curious...how attached are you to Marietta?”

  Paige rose up on tiptoe and pressed her lips lightly to his. He smelled so good. A mixture of soap and shaving cream and man. “Not that attached,” she whispered.

  “Do you think the kids would like Texas?”

  Her heart skipped another beat. “As long as there are Disney stores and Science Fairs, they’ll be fine,” she said, savoring the way his body felt against her, his hard chest crushing her breasts, his lean hips making her ache.

  “What about Lewis’ parents? They’ll miss the kids, won’t they?”

  “We would have to make sure they come visit us in Austin, and it’s not as if we won’t come back here a couple times a year, either. This is your hometown. It’s where the Sheenans are from, and where two and a half of your brothers still live.”

  “Who is the half?”

  “Troy. Half here, half San Francisco.”

  He laughed softly and lifted a strand of hair from her cheek and smoothed it behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the curve. “You know what comes next, don’t you?”

  His warm gold eyes held hers, and she couldn’t look away. “No,” she answered, breathlessly. “What?”

  “What do you think happens when a man is madly in love with a beautiful woman? He gets down on one knee—”

  “Stop it.”

  “And propose—”

  “Dillon.”

  But he was already getting down on one knee, the faded denim wrapping his muscular thigh.

  She grabbed at his arms and tried to pull him to his feet. “You can’t, Dillon. You can’t do this here, now. Not in the diner!”

  He was laughing at her, white teeth gleaming. “Why not? What’s wrong with the diner?”

  “It’s the diner!”

  “I know, and it’s where we had our first date.”

  “We’ve had very few dates.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it. Not when I’ve spent years loving you, not daring to believe I’d ever have a chance with you.” He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out a jewelry box and popped up the lid, revealing a huge, stunning diamond ring. “I love you, Paige Joffe. Will you marry me?”

  “Dillon, this is crazy!”

  “Is that a yes, or a no?”

  She was shaking, overwhelmed. “Is this really happening?”

  “Is that a yes, or a no?”

  Of course it was a yes.

  She barely had time to get the ring on before she fell into his arms. “Yes, yes, yes. Love you, Dillon.”

  “Love you, too, babe. More than you know.”

  Epilogue

  That summer on August 8th Marietta celebrated a double Sheenan wedding, with Troy and Taylor inviting Dillon and Paige to share their big day.

  It was the perfect solution of how to handle planning a wedding, while selling a house and moving two kids to a different state to get them enrolled in their new schools in time for the new school year.

  With a little juggling St. James was able to host both ceremonies at the same time, and then the entire huge wedding party and all the friends and family headed to the dinner dance reception taking place in the Graff’s ballroom.

  Carol Bingley had a field day gossiping about the double Sheenan wedding, telling everyone who would listen that the reason Paige and Dillon were rushing into marriage was because Paige was expecting. It wasn’t true, but Carol’s gossip just made Paige and Dillon try that much harder to make a baby.

  And in one more intriguing twist that summer, Paige’s house sold over the 4th of July weekend after an anonymous buyer agreed to pay the full asking price, in cash, and closing within forty-eight hours of the holiday weekend.

  She counter-offered, saying the deal could close within forty-eight hours but she’d need thirty days to pack and move. Her counter-offer was accepted, giving her until August 4th to pack and be out of the house, which was perfect timing with the wedding.

  It wasn’t until the paperwork was executed that she learned the buyer was none other than Troy Sheenan, who’d bought the house for his future wife, and had put the title of the tall narrow Victorian in Taylor’s name, giving his bride-to-be a piece of Marietta history for a wedding present.

  The wedding on August 8th went off without a hitch. The weather was perfect. The kids were perfect that day, too.

  But life wasn’t perfect, and Paige knew it wouldn’t always be smooth sailing in Texas. There would be bumps and mistakes and hurt feelings along the way, but she was ready for this move to Texas, and excited about this new chapter with Dillon.

  Thank goodness she was thirty-eight, and had lived enough to know that true love wasn’t flowers and fancy gifts, but kindness, patience, and showing up with a sense of humor, and a grateful heart, every day.

  It also helped to have some faith.

  An Excerpt from Christmas at Copper Mountain

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from Book 1 in the Taming of the Sheenans series:

  Christmas at Copper Mountain

  “You okay, Miss Diekerhoff?”

  Turning quickly, potato skins still dripping, Harley blinked back tears as she spotted Brock Sheenan standing by the fireplace, warming his hands.
>
  Brock was a big man. He was tall–six one or two—with broad shoulders, a wide muscular chest, and shaggy black hair.

  Harley’s late husband, David, was Portuguese and darkly handsome, but David was always groomed and polished while the Montana rancher seemed disinclined to comb his hair, or bother with a morning shave.

  The truth was, Brock Sheenan looked like a pirate, and never more so than now, with tiny snow flakes clinging to his wild hair and shadowed jaw.

  “I’m fine,” she said breathlessly, embarrassed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “The faucet was on.” He rubbed his hands together, the skin red and raw. “You’re not....crying...are you?”

  She heard the uncomfortable note in his voice and cringed a little. “No,” she said quickly, straightening and squaring her shoulders as she dumped the potato peels into the garbage. “Everything’s wonderful.”

  “So you’re not crying?”

  “No,” she repeated crisply, drying her hands. “Just peeling potatoes for dinner.”

  Her gaze swept his big frame, seeing the powdered snow still clinging to the hem of his wrangler jeans peeking beneath his leather chaps and white glitter dusting his black brows. His supple leather chaps weren’t for show. It was frigid outside and he’d spent the week in the saddle driving the last herds of cattle from the back country to the valley down below so the cows could take shelter beneath trees. “Can I get you something?”

  “You don’t happen to have any coffee left from this morning that you could heat up?”

  “I can make a fresh pot,” she said, grabbing the glass carafe to fill it with water. “Want regular or decaf?”

  He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall above the door and then out the window where the snow flurries were thickening, making it almost impossible to see the tall pine trees marking one corner of the yard. “Leaded,” he said. “Make it strong, too. It’s going to be a late night for me.”

  She added the coffee grounds, and then hit the brew button. “You’re heading back out?”

  “I’m going to ride back up as soon as I get something warm in me. Thought I’d take some of the breakfast coffee cake with me. If there was anything left.”

  “There is.” She’d already wrapped the remaining slices in foil. He wasn’t one to linger over meals, and he didn’t like asking for snacks between meals, either. If he wanted something now, it meant he wouldn’t be back anytime soon. But it was already after four. It’d be dark within the hour. “It’s snowing hard.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t do a last check. The boys said we’ve got them all but I keep thinking we’re missing one or two of the young ones. Have to be sure before I call it a night.”

  Harley reached into a cupboard for one of the thermoses she sent with Brick on his early mornings. “What time will you want dinner?”

  “Don’t know when I’ll be back. Could be fairly late, so just leave a plate in the oven for me. No need for you to stay up.” He bundled his big arms across his even bigger chest, a lock of thick black hair falling down over his forehead to shadow an equally dark eye.

  There was nothing friendly or approachable about Brock when he stood like that. His wild black hair, square jaw, and dark piercing gaze that gave him a slightly threatening air, but Harley knew better. Men, even the most dangerous men, were still mortal. They had goals, dreams, needs. They tried, they failed. They made mistakes. Fatal mistakes.

  “Any of the boys going with you?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she wrapped a generous wedge of cheddar cheese in foil, and a hunk of the summer sausage he liked, so he’d have something more substantial than coffee cake for his ride.

  He shook his head, then dragged a large calloused hand through the glossy black strands in a half-hearted attempt to comb the tangled strands smooth. “No.”

  She gave him a swift, troubled look.

  He shrugged. “No point in putting the others in harm’s way.”

  Her frown deepened. “What if you get into trouble?”

  “I won’t.”

  She arched her brows.

  She ought to be intimidated by this shaggy beast of a man, but she wasn’t. She’d had a husband—a daring, risk taking husband of her own—and his lapse in judgment had cost them all. Dearly.

  “It’s dangerous out there,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  Find out what happens next!

  Buy now!

  Taming of the Sheenans

  Christmas at Copper Mountain

  Book 1: Brock Sheenan’s story

  Get now!

  The Tycoon’s Kiss

  Book 2: Troy Sheenan’s story

  Get now!

  The Kidnapped Christmas Bride

  Book 3: Trey Sheenan’s story

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  The Taming of the Bachelor

  Book 4: Dillon Sheenan’s story

  Home to Me

  Book 5: Cormac Sheenan’s story – coming soon

  An Excerpt from Take Me, Cowboy

  Please see the next page for an excerpt from Jane Porter’s RITA® winning

  Take Me, Cowboy

  “I can’t do it, Jenny. I can’t go through with this.”

  The warm dry autumn wind whipped Jenny Wright’s wedding veil up above her shoulders, fine lace grazing her cheek. Having lived the past ten years in Chicago, Jenny had forgotten the wind that whistled from Yellowstone, down through Paradise Valley, turning the ranching valley into a wind tunnel.

  The wind snapped and crackled now, the gusts as much a part of Marietta as the iconic peak of Copper Mountain jutting behind the small, sleepy Montana town. Marietta had surged to life in the late 1800’s before nearly dying, when the copper boom proved to be nothing more than a hiccup and all the investors and prospectors packed up and moved away.

  It’d been a hundred and twenty some years since then but it was still hard to make a living in Marietta.

  It’s why she’d left town as soon as she’d graduated from high school. It’s why she’d been determined to never move back.

  She’d only come home for her wedding. Only come home to make her family proud.

  Jenny gently plucked the delicate veil from her small diamond and pearl earring before it tore. “I didn’t catch that, honey,” she said, smashing the sudden rush of adrenaline flooding her veins.

  No need to panic, she told herself. It was so windy today, and others might not like the gusts, but the wind had blown all the clouds north, leaving the sky above Marietta a perfect brilliant blue, and the wind had made it hard to hear.

  Because for a moment there, it sounded as if Charles said he wouldn’t marry her. But that didn’t make sense. He and his family were here. The guests were here. The minister was here, all in the church waiting.

  Waiting.

  Her stomach rose and fell. She swallowed hard, fighting a sudden rush of nausea. She hadn’t slept well last night, nervous. Excited.

  Excited, she silently insisted. Not terrified. Or sad. She would never be sad. This was the right decision. This was the best decision. It was.

  It had to be.

  “Can you say that again?” she asked him, fighting her veil and tamping down the horrible rush of adrenaline flooding her veins. “I didn’t hear you, honey.”

  He hesitated.

  She stared at his mouth, focusing on his lips, not wanting to miss a thing this time.

  And looking at his mouth, she tried to feel reassured. Because she knew him. She’d worked for his company for years, first as an administrative assistant in Human Resources, then as a manager, before he’d hand picked her to be his assistant, and then his girl friend. His woman. It hadn’t happened over night. At least the love part.

  The love part had been tricky, but she loved him now. He’d been in her life a long time, and he’d been good to her. Better than any man had been to her.

  And just like that her chest squeezed and her eyes burned and her throat threate
ned to close.

  Maybe it wasn’t the wild fierce passionate love you read about in books, but it was steady and kind, and based on respect. Mutual respect.

  They were good for each other.

  “Charles?” she whispered, fighting the awful aching lump in her throat.

  He just stared at her, gray eyes shadowed. “Things got out of hand, Jenny. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He said nothing.

  She bit down so hard into her bottom lip she tasted lipstick and blood.

  Keep it together, she told herself. Keep it together. You can fix this. You can. You’ve fixed everything else in his life...you can fix this, too.

  She masked her panic with one of her professional smiles. Thank God for a stressful career. The work load and deadlines had taught her to cope with pressure. She’d learned how to be strong. “I hear almost every bride and groom experience some cold feet. It’s natural.” She managed a lop-sided smile. “We wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t have a few pre-wedding jitters.”

  “Jenny, I’m not going to marry you.”

  She suddenly pictured her family—Mama, Daddy, Grandma, her sisters and the rest of her bridesmaids—dressed in their new, expensive and uncomfortable fancy clothes. This was a big day for the Wrights and they hadn’t wanted to disappoint. Scrubbed clean, perfumed, shoes shining, waiting in the church, fighting nerves of their own.

  “I’m shocked,” she said calmly, her voice firm, composed. My God, she was good at hiding pain. Hiding her own feelings. Her needs.

  But then, she didn’t assert her needs anymore.

  Being Charles Monmouth’s assistant had taught her oh so very well.

  Find out what happens next!

  Get now!

  About the Author

  USA Today, and New York Times bestselling author Jane Porter has been a finalist for the prestigious RITA award five times, has over 12 million copies in print. Jane’s novel, Flirting With Forty, picked by Redbook as its Red Hot Summer Read, went back for seven printings in six weeks before being made into a Lifetime movie starring Heather Locklear. September 2012 brought the release of The Good Woman, the first of her Brennan Sisters trilogy, followed in February 2013 by The Good Daughter, and book three in the series, The Good Wife, released in September. A mother of three sons, Jane holds an MA in Writing from the University of San Francisco and makes her home in sunny San Clemente, CA with her surfer husband. For more on Jane’s books, visit her website at www.janeporter.com.