The Rancher's City Girl. Patricia Johns

      

      Healing the Cowboy’s Heart

      When Cory Stone discovers the father he never met is gravely ill, he brings the ornery man to his Montana ranch, along with his round-the-clock nurse. Once again Cory finds himself falling for the wrong woman—a city slicker, like the ex-fiancée who broke his heart. But in Eloise LeBlanc, Cory also finds a kindred spirit. The caring beauty knows firsthand about love and loss. Neither of them is looking for a new romance, and Cory certainly isn’t searching for love. But can the independent city girl heal the heart of a broken cowboy?

      “That’s the last time I ride a horse.”

      Eloise wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks with her palms.

      Cory led the horses toward the barn door and Eloise beelined toward the fence.

      He could hear the guffaws of the ranch hands already—if he chose to tell the story, that was. They loved a good city slicker story. He wouldn’t tell it, though. He knew that already. She might not be much of a cowgirl, but she didn’t deserve to be mocked.

      Don’t fall for her, he chided himself. As she walked away, her fiery curls whipping in the wind, he led the horses into the barn.

      “Lexie,” he murmured to his horse. “You should have known better than to gallop with her.” But it wasn’t the horse’s fault, nor Eloise’s. It was his, for having expected something that he never should have hoped for.

      Why was he doing this to himself? He had to stop this—whatever it was between them.

      But right now nothing short of divine intervention would make him stop falling for her.

      PATRICIA JOHNS

      willfully became a starving artist after she finished her BA in English literature. It was all right, because she was single, attractive and had a family to back her up “just in case.” She lived in a tiny room in the downtown core of a city, worked sundry part-time jobs to keep herself fed and wrote the first novel she would have published.

      That was over ten years ago, and in the meantime, she’s had another ten novels published, and her dedication to the written word hasn’t diminished.

      She’s married, has a young son and a small bird named Frankie. She couldn’t be happier.

      The Rancher’s City Girl

      Patricia Johns

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

      —Psalms 73:26

      To my husband, John,

      who is my inspiration for all my heroes. I love you!

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

      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 Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Epilogue

       Dear Reader

       Questions for Discussion

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      A knock on the front door echoed through the small house. Eloise Leblanc glanced quickly toward her patient. Robert Bessler lay on crisp, clean sheets, his papery eyelids closed in sleep. A fan oscillating in the corner shifted his white hair against his forehead, but he didn’t stir.

      Eloise pushed herself up from the chair next to his bed and stepped into the hall, angling her steps toward the front door. She paused at the door, tucking a fiery curl back into the loose bun at the base of her neck, then stood on her tiptoes to peek through the peephole. A tall man looked down, his face obscured by a cowboy hat.

      Eloise paused for a moment and sucked a deep breath.

       This is it.

      She opened the door and the man lifted his gaze to meet hers in frank evaluation. He pulled off his hat and held it across his chest. His hair hung in dark, disheveled waves across his forehead and his piercing dark eyes sparkled. A dusting of stubble softened his chiseled features, and he smiled hesitantly.

      “Hi,” he said. “Is this the home of Robert Bessler?”

      “It is.”

      “You must be Eloise. We spoke on the phone.”

      “Of course. Cory?”

      He nodded and she stepped back, allowing him entrance.