Her Unexpected Hero. Cheryl Harper

About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       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

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER ONE

      “DOES ANYONE ELSE smell that...?”

      Winter Kingfisher glanced up from her phone as Macy Gentry paused to take suspicious whiffs of the air over their corner booth at The Branch, the answer to nightlife in Sweetwater, Tennessee. It was Friday night, prime time for fun and rowdy crowds, but still so early that the first unofficial get-together of Sweetwater’s single ladies was tame. Subdued. Almost boring.

      The way first dates or professional networking opportunities can be.

      Scanning blog posts and headlines, hunting for either the Kingfisher or Callaway name had distracted Winter from the awkward silence in the booth. Not to mention any untoward odor.

      News of her part in ending an engagement with the man planning to be governor had had a longer life cycle than she’d imagined. For almost a decade, she’d worked with her fiancé, Whit Callaway, Jr., in Knoxville’s political arena to make sure all his press was favorable. Going head-to-head against the Callaways, one of the wealthiest families in Tennessee, in order to save her brother’s job as head ranger of the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve had meant she’d returned the ring and landed both Kingfishers on the front pages.

      Unfortunately, the coverage varied wildly from favorable to “literally the worst,” but it had taken a turn for the better for the Kingfishers. She was the scorned woman. The innocent one. Her brother, Ash, had rightfully become a hero again. Whit Callaway’s campaign had faltered.

      Was saving The Aerie worth the hassle of canceling a society wedding, losing her job and her plans for the future?

      Winter shifted on the hard wooden seat and tried not to focus too closely on the answer to that question.

      After two months, Winter could feel her chance to directly challenge Whit’s political campaign evaporating. Getting even was not the Kingfisher way, but what about a little payback?

      But instead of forcing her way onto his opponent’s strategy team, what was she doing? Rusticating at home and not much else.

      Well, other than reading about Governor Richard Duncan’s terrible record on education and teacher pay while she waited for this first get-together to be over. Could she help this guy win reelection? Yes.

      But should she?

      It would serve Whit right for not listening to her. If he’d stopped his family’s plan to develop a lodge at The Aerie and destroy one of the most important areas of the reserve she loved, they would still be together. He would still be winning, and Winter would be by his side in Knoxville.

      Not here, where she definitely did not seem to be winning anything.

      Governor Duncan needed better advice. The solution: a Kingfisher heading up his reelection campaign. Win-win. For her, at least.

      “I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it’s flowery. What is that?” Macy sniffed again. “Roses?”

      Before Winter could change the subject, Christina Braswell stood. “Hamburgers all around. Don’t waste your time with anything else on this menu. Trust your waitress friend to know.” She marched over to the bar and returned with a tray of drinks and hamburgers in baskets.

      Macy craned her neck, clearly searching for the fresh spring meadow tickling her nose. Since her brother’s girlfriend and coworker at the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve had become a staple at Kingfisher family dinners, Winter knew there was no way Macy would let it go until she had the answer.

      “Lavender.” Winter tugged her denim jacket and patted the large Choose Duncan Again button she had pinned to the lapel. “The fragrance is lavender. My mother grows a lot of it. If she has a signature scent, it’s lavender.”

      All the women at the table turned to face her.

      Christina held up a frosty mug in a salute. “She does speak. So far, the only forms of communication I’ve seen have been glaring at your phone and sighing. Your brother is a better conversationalist and he mainly speaks in single syllables.”

      The criticism hurt, even if it was true. Neither she nor Ash were known for their easygoing personalities or sparkling conversation. Smarts—yes. Determination—yes. Easygoing charm?