The Sheriff's Son. Barbara Daille White

      “I’ll cut right to the chase, Sarah. Let’s get married.”

      After a long struggle she managed to find her voice, but could only sputter a shocked “Wh-what?”

      “Just what I said.” Tanner rested an elbow on the railing and peered down at her. “We’d planned to all along, right? But life got in the way. Now things have settled down again—we’ve settled down. It only makes sense.”

      Sarah cleared her throat and tried to speak again. “What about Kevin?”

      “What about him?”

      “You would adopt him?”

      “Sarah, I’m willing enough to take care of you and Kevin. You know that. Stepfather, yeah, that I’ll agree to. But that’s it. I don’t want to adopt the boy.”

      Tears stung her eyes, and a coldness settled inside her. “The offer’s tempting, Tanner. But you walked away from me once and I can’t take the chance you might do it again. So my answer is no. I won’t marry you.”

      Dear Reader,

      If you’re at all like me, you love being swept into a good book, where you can leave your cares behind—and get involved in someone else’s troubles for a change! Where you can learn how the characters handle life’s ups and downs. And, best of all, where you can watch them struggle against their feelings…until they finally admit their love and realize they’ve come home.

      Again, if you’re like me, you’ve sometimes made mistakes in your life and watched them grow all out of proportion. That happened with Sarah and Tanner, whose story you’re holding right now. It took them years to find out—Well, I’ll let them reveal their tale in the following pages. Here, I’ll share my story with you….

      Since the age of nine I’ve dreamed of telling stories of my own—and now I’m beyond thrilled that my first two books will be in print this year. Thanks for joining me in this adventure! As we take our first steps together, I hope you enjoy The Sheriff’s Son. And watch for Court Me, Cowboy, coming to you in November.

      I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 504, Gilbert, AZ 85299 or through my Web site, www.barbarawhitedaille.com.

      All my best to you!

      Until we meet again,

      Barbara White Daille

      The Sheriff’s Son

      Barbara White Daille

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      When she was very young, Barbara White Daille learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. Now thrilled to be an author herself, she hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them! Originally from the East Coast, Barbara lives with her husband in the warm, sunny Southwest, where they love the dry heat and have taken up square-dancing.

      This book is lovingly dedicated to Elizabeth Gallagher who started it all and to Rich who helps keep it going

      Many thanks to a very special editor Kathleen Scheibling

      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

       Epilogue

      Chapter One

      The eeny-meeny-miney-mo approach to paying bills wouldn’t keep creditors from her door much longer.

      Sarah Lindstrom sighed, planted her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands.

      What she wouldn’t do for some matches or a fireplace. But the only bookstore in Dillon, Texas, wasn’t the place to find either of those things, even if she were dumb enough to resort to drastic measures. Burning the bills would only add to her problems, not solve them.

      If one more straw would snap the camel’s back, as Daddy used to say, then one more debt, one more unplanned doctor visit, one more call from Kevin’s school ought to bring down a whole herd of cattle.

      The thought of her son made her sigh again. It was only a few weeks into the new school year, and in that short time, he’d given her more grief than in all seven years of his life combined.

      At the sound of the bell over the door, she glanced at the clock. The Bookies had arrived a bit early.

      She smoothed the loose curls escaping from her braid, ran a hand over the front of her dress and smiled. Nowadays, besides reading, her only form of entertainment came from The Book Cellar’s novel discussion group, an assortment of local women ranging from former schoolteachers to ranch wives to several of her own stay-at-home-mom friends.

      Halfway through the office doorway into the large, overflowing bookstore, she froze. Her mouth hung open, the greeting she’d intended to call out shriveling on her tongue, sliding back down her throat, curdling in her stomach.

      Her “one more straw” had arrived.

      Instead of the group of women she’d expected to see, a man stood at the front of the store, framed between a pair of ceiling-height bookcases.

      Tanner Jones seemed to fill her vision, standing taller and more broad-shouldered than she ever remembered, but looking, unfortunately, all too familiar. Except for the deputy sheriff’s badge decorating his chest, and the gun resting on his hip.

      A frown rumpled his brow and his hand gripped the back of a bright blue T-shirt, pulling up with just enough pressure to keep the boy inside the shirt dancing on tiptoe.