Название | From City Girl To Rancher's Wife |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Ami Weaver |
Жанр | Короткие любовные романы |
Серия | Mills & Boon Cherish |
Издательство | Короткие любовные романы |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474001564 |
Luke hadn’t bargained on the new cook.
Sure, Rosa had asked if her niece could take over while she spent some of her vacation time with her daughter, who was expecting a baby soon. Trusting the older woman completely, he’d said sure.
He hadn’t thought about Josie being a woman.
It had been so long since he’d looked—really looked—at a woman, that when she’d glared at him from her car, blue eyes narrowed, with the pepper spray can in her hand, he’d been shocked to feel the unwelcome rush of attraction. And she was a self-confessed city girl to boot, which was a huge no-no in his book. He’d married a city girl.
He was no longer married.
So to feel something for someone who wore three-inch spiked heels to stomp across a muddy, wet road in the wilds of Montana wasn’t a good sign.
But damn, they’d looked good on her, even in the mud and rain.
From City Girl to Rancher’s Wife
Ami Weaver
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Two-time Golden Heart Award finalist AMI WEAVER has been reading romance since she was a teen and writing for even longer, so it was only natural she would put the two together. Now she can be found drinking gallons of iced tea at her local coffee shop while doing one of her very favorite things—convincing two characters they deserve their happy-ever-after. Ami lives in Michigan with her four kids, three cats and her very supportive husband.
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To my parents, Jan and Nancy.
Thank you for all you’ve done and all your support. It means the world. Love you guys.
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 Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
After six hours in a middle-of-nowhere airport, two turbulent flights and a bottom-of-the-barrel rental car, Josie Callahan almost wasn’t shocked when she ended up in the ditch on a dark, out-of-the-way Montana road. In what seemed to be a monsoon.
She swallowed what felt dangerously close to hysterical laughter, because at this point, after how awful her day had been, what was the point of getting mad?
Just to check, she dug her phone out of her bag, then almost immediately dropped it back in. No service, of course. It had been hit or miss all day.
Since she had no idea where she was, how far she was from the ranch—this car had no GPS—and her phone wouldn’t work, she plopped her head back on the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut. She was hungry, but all she had was a squashed granola bar in her purse and half a bottle of water. No chocolate, unfortunately.
She opened her eyes and gave the rain that was coursing down the windshield a baleful glare.
Where she came from, none of this would be an issue.
Light bounced somewhere down the road. Josie squinted out the rain-streaked window. Lightning? It couldn’t possibly be a car out here on this godforsaken road. Could it?
It was getting steadily closer, and she could see the lights were in fact headlights, on what seemed to be a huge truck.
The truck slowed, then stopped on the opposite side of the road, so she wasn’t blinded by the lights. Josie scrambled for her pepper spray, her heart pounding. Her hysteria from a few moments ago had turned to a quasi panic. She saw the truck door open, and a tall man stepped out.
She gripped the can tightly. Okay. She was on the road—she hoped—to the Silver River Ranch. Her aunt knew she was on the way. It was possible he was looking for her.
He tapped on her window. She lowered it a few inches and lifted her can of pepper spray so he could see it. The rain splashed in, cold on her skin, but he wore a cowboy hat. The rain ran off the brim. He had sharp blue eyes that caught her attention.
“Are you Josie Callahan?” His voice was deep and a little hoarse, and she blinked.
“I am,” she said, holding the can steady. “Who are you?”
“Luke Ryder. Your aunt sent me to check on you.” He stooped a little more and lifted a brow. “You don’t need the pepper spray, ma’am.”
Oh, hell. She lowered the can. No, she didn’t need it. Luke Ryder was a well-known retired country star and her aunt’s employer. She dropped it in her lap, thankful she hadn’t accidentally discharged the can. On herself. The way this day had gone, it wouldn’t have surprised her. “Right. Well. Thanks.”
“Why don’t you get in the truck and I’ll grab your bags. You’re not that far from the ranch, and Rosa is anxious to see you.” There may or may not have been