His Prairie Sweetheart. Erica Vetsch

      

      A Home for Her Heart

      After being jilted at the altar, Southern belle Savannah Cox seeks a fresh start out West and accepts a teaching position in Minnesota. But between her students’ lack of English, the rough surroundings and sheriff Elias Parker’s doubts and distrust, Savannah’s unprepared for both the job and the climate. However, she’s determined to prove she can handle anything her new town throws her way.

      Elias gives it a week—or less—before the pretty schoolteacher packs her dainty dresses and hightails it back home. But no matter how many mishaps he has to rescue her from, Savannah doesn’t give up. Yet the real test is to come—a brutal blizzard that could finally drive her away, taking his heart with her...

      “Thank you for your help, Mr. Parker.”

      Savannah’s lips were stiff, and straight vinegar tasted better than this particular slice of humble pie, but she got the words out.

      He shook his head. “The kids can help you inside. If you need anything—not that I’m assuming you will—” he held up his hands “—but if you do, holler.”

      He strode across the grass, leaving Savannah staring after him. His walk was powerful, his upper body swaying slightly, his arms swinging. Everything about Elias Parker spoke of hard work and capability.

      But he wasn’t to be trusted. No man was. Elias offered help one moment, but in the next, let her know he was certain she would fail. Girard had asked her to marry him, but at the last moment, he’d fled rather than go through with the wedding.

      Even her father wasn’t reliable, never home for more than a week at a time, always traveling, always putting business first.

      No, a woman shouldn’t put her trust in a man. She was better off on her own.

      It might be lonely, but it was better than a broken heart.

      ERICA VETSCH is a transplanted Kansan now residing in Minnesota. She loves history and romance and is blessed to be able to combine the two by writing historical romances. Whenever she’s not immersed in fictional worlds, she’s the company bookkeeper for the family lumber business, mother of two, wife to a man who is her total opposite and soul mate, and an avid museum patron.

      His Prairie Sweetheart

      Erica Vetsch

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

       Before you start reading, why not sign up?

      Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

       SIGN ME UP!

      Or simply visit

      signup.millsandboon.co.uk

      Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

      Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,

      for in You my soul takes refuge;

      in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge,

      till the storms of destruction pass by.

      —Psalms 57:1

      Many thanks to Berit Oviatt and Jody Rosedahl for help with the Norwegian translations (any mistakes are solely mine), to Allie Pleiter, harpist extraordinaire, for help with the care and feeding of harps, and to my husband, Peter, for taking me to Vesterheim to research Norwegians in America.

      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

       Chapter Nineteen

       Epilogue

       Dear Reader

       Extract

       Copyright

Chapter One

      Raleigh, North Carolina

      August 1887

      The humiliation. That’s what the gossips of Raleigh were calling it. Rehashing it with delighted horror in the tearooms and front parlors of the city.

      Savannah Cox kept her chin level and marched down the church steps, careful to slant her parasol to keep the August sun off her face...and if she was honest, to block out the looks. She put on her most remote expression, a reflection of the cold numbness that surrounded her broken heart. Agony at the core, a shell of ice around the pain, and proper manners covering all.

      After all, a lady’s pain was like her petticoat; she must never let it show.

      Three weeks ago she’d ascended these same steps arrayed in bridal white, eager and