The Trouble with Caasi

A driven workaholic, CEO Caasi Crane has sacrificed all semblance of a personal life to build a West Coast hotel empire. But work will never be the same when her top manager abrubtly resigns, and Caasi can’t figure out why Read more

Fresh Starts

Cozy up with two heartwarming stories of romance waiting right around the corner! The Cowboy’s Lady Fresh off a breakup, Taylor Manning accepts a yearlong teaching position in Cougar Point, Montana, and plans to focus on herself, avoid men and Read more

Ready for Marriage

Rediscover and fall in love with a classic second chance romance from beloved New York Times bestselling author, Debbie Macomber. Three years ago, Mary Jo Summerhill fell completely and utterly in love with Evan Dryden. They were the perfect match, except they Read more

Thursdays at Eight

A time to think about lives lived, choices made. A time for friends… Every week, four women have an unmissable appointment in their calendars: they meet for breakfast. Clare has just been through a devastating divorce. She’s driven by anger Read more

Rainy Day Kisses

Susannah Simmons has a five-year plan to succeed in her career. And it doesn’t include falling in love with her next-door neighbor! Nate Townsend is undeniably attractive, but he seems to lack ambition. He stays home baking cookies and flying Read more

Just Married

You’re sure to love this wholesome, heartfelt, marriage of convenience romance from  #1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber. Former mercenary Zane Ackerman wants a family. In particular, he wants a child who’ll be his legacy—and his heir. That’s because his upcoming Read more

Mistletoe and Mischief

Two stories to celebrate the holiday season with the good people of Cedar Cove… A Cedar Cove Christmas Mary Jo Wyse finds herself in Cedar Cove on Christmas Eve, stranded, pregnant and alone. And there’s no room at the local Read more

That Christmas Magic

Available in one volume for the first time, Christmas Masquerade and The Gift of Christmas, two of Debbie Macomber’s classic holiday novels about finding love and faith and rediscovering oneself Christmas Masquerade After Jo Marie first meets Andrew, her dream Read more

Tying the Knot

Available in one volume for the first Yesterday’s Hero and White Lace and Promises, two of Debbie Macomber’s classic novels about finding love in the most unexpected places. Yesterday’s Hero Nothing is going to keep marine biologist Leah Talmadge or Read more

A Christmas Duet

A solo holiday trip inspires one woman to rediscover her passion—and remember that, sometimes, duets are more fun—in this romantic Christmas novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber. Hailey Morgan’s life has always revolved around music. She once had Read more

Yesterday Once More

After abruptly calling off her engagement and leaving town three years earlier, Julie Houser is back in Wichita, hoping to start anew and earn the forgiveness of her ex-fiancé, Daniel Van Deen. She may not have been ready to marry Read more

Unforgettable Moments

When it comes to love, everything can change in a moment. A Tornado Blows Into Town Lately Teresa can’t stop thinking about Scott McDermot, her handsome yet mysterious employer. But their relationship is strictly business—when she cleans his house every Read more

Dakota Born

Ten-year-old Lindsay Snyder woke rigid with fear. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The room was as dark as coal and hot, terribly hot. Then she realized she wasn’t home in Savannah where the air conditioner cooled the worst of the summer heat. She tried not to be afraid, but she was.

The ghost stories she’d heard at camp that summer returned to haunt her. A sudden chill raced down her spine as she recalled the tale of Crazy Man Charlie who was said to tear out people’s eyes…before he murdered them. Somehow, Crazy Man Charlie had found her. Everyone else must be dead. Everyone but her. The dream remained vague, and she tried to remember the details and couldn’t.

Slowly she sat up in the darkness, prepared to confront whatever danger awaited her. As she did, she remembered she was at her grandparents’ house with her parents and two sisters. They’d arrived that evening after driving for what seemed like days and days to North Dakota.

Her eyes had begun to adjust to the night, and Lindsay climbed out of the makeshift bed in her grandma’s sewing room. She tiptoed past her two sleeping sisters and down the hallway to the kitchen for a glass of water.

A sound came from the living room and she froze at the thought of meeting Crazy Man Charlie face-to-face. Holding her breath, she flattened herself against the refrigerator door.

Then Lindsay saw her Grandma Gina, silhouetted in the moonlight that streamed through the big window. The heavy curtains were pulled open and her grandma stood by the brick fireplace, head bent. Lindsay would have rushed to her for a hug and told her all about the crazy man and how scared she’d been, but she didn’t know her Grandma Gina as well as she did her Grandma Dorothy. So she stayed in the kitchen, waiting for her grandmother to notice her.

Except her grandma hadn’t heard Lindsay and didn’t know she was there. Lindsay could see that her grandmother held something in her hand, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Grandma Gina moved closer to the fireplace, but it wasn’t light enough for Lindsay to see what she was doing.

Lindsay’s eyes widened as her grandmother leaned forward and touched the fireplace. A sort of scraping sound followed and a brick slid out. It was a hiding place! A secret hiding place.

Fascinated, Lindsay watched as her grandmother slipped whatever she held in her hand inside the opening. The brick made the same sound as it went back into place.

“Grandma?”

Her hand over her heart, Grandma Gina whirled around. “Good heavens, child! You frightened me.”

Lindsay hurried into the living room, and toward the fireplace, but she couldn’t figure out which brick her grandmother had moved.

“What are you doing up?”

Lindsay looked away from the fireplace. “I had a dream about Crazy Man Charlie.”

“Who?”

“I heard stories about him at summer camp.” She ran her fingers along the fireplace, trying to work out which brick had moved. “What did you hide in here, Grandma?”

“It’s nothing, child.”

“But I saw the brick move.”

Her grandmother shook her head. “It was…just a trick of the moonlight.”

“But Grandma, I saw.”

Her grandmother crouched down, meeting her eyes. “The stories frightened you.”

Her wrinkled face was marked with the streaks of tears that glistened in the moonlight. “Grandma, are you crying?”

“No…no,” her grandmother insisted. “Why would I be crying?”

“But that’s what it looks like.” Lindsay raised her hand to her grandmother’s cheek and brushed her fingertips tentatively against the soft skin.

Her grandmother tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered.

“Are you sad?” Lindsay asked.

“A little,” she whispered, and hugged Lindsay close, so close she could feel the beating of her grandma’s heart.

“I’ll draw you a picture, and then you won’t be sad anymore.”

“You sweet, sweet child. Now let me take you back to bed.”

“I’m thirsty.”

She released Lindsay and led her into the kitchen, where she took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

Her grandma had let the tap run and the water was nice and cold. Lindsay gulped it down, then put the glass on the counter. “What did you hide in the fireplace?” she asked again. She didn’t understand why Grandma Gina was pretending like this.

Her grandmother gently stroked the hair from her face. “You didn’t see anything.”

“But I did.” Walking over to the fireplace, Lindsay tried really hard to find the spot her grandmother had touched. She pushed and prodded at various bricks, but nothing moved.

Her grandmother joined her. “Lindsay, look at me.”

Lindsay turned around.

Her grandmother crouched down again. The tears were back in her eyes and she hugged Lindsay tightly. “What you saw is our secret, all right?”

Lindsay nodded.

“But I want you to forget all about it.”

Lindsay didn’t know if she could.

Her grandmother held Lindsay’s face in both hands and stared at her intently. “Promise me you’ll never tell anyone what you saw.”

“All right, Grandma, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Good.” She kissed Lindsay’s cheek. “Now let me tuck you back into bed….” Read more

Always Dakota

Margaret thought she was ready, as ready as any daughter could be to face her father’s death. She’d been at his side, his rough, callused hand between her own, when it happened. For hours she’d sat with him, watching the intermittent rise and fall of his chest, waiting, wondering if this breath would be his last, praying it wasn’t. Clinging to what little life was left in him.

Bernard Clemens had refused to die in a hospital and at his request, she’d brought him home. The hospice people had been wonderful, assisting Bernard in maintaining his dignity to the very end. Margaret had stayed with her father almost constantly the final week of his life.

She watched him draw his last shallow breath, watched him pass peacefully, silently, from one life to the next. Margaret wasn’t sure what she’d expected to feel, but certainly not this torrent of agony and grief. She’d known he was dying, known it for months, and she’d thought that knowledge would blunt the sharp rawness of her pain. It hadn’t. Her father was gone. She’d spent every day of her life with him, here on the Triple C, and now she was alone. In time, she realized, she’d be able to look back and see the blessing her father had been, but not yet. Not when her loss hurt as much as it did now.

She’d waited until she’d composed herself and then, dry-eyed, walked out of the large bedroom and awakened the sleeping family members, who’d gathered at the ranch. She’d announced that Bernard had died and his death had been peaceful. No tears were shed. That wasn’t how grief was expressed in the Clemens family.

Almost immediately, everyone had found a purpose and the house was filled with activity. More and more people arrived, and then, two days later, it was time for the funeral. Bernard Clemens’s three surviving brothers stood at the grave site with Margaret; they stayed long enough to greet folks and thank them for coming. Then they left, to return to their own families, their own lives.

The reception following the funeral was well attended. Nearly everyone in Buffalo Valley came to pay their respects. Hassie Knight, who owned Knight’s Pharmacy, took charge of organizing the event. She’d been a family friend for many years. At least a hundred people had gathered at the large ranch house, and there was more food than Margaret could eat in six weeks. She never had understood why people brought casseroles and desserts for a wake; the last thing she wanted to think about was eating.

“Margaret, I’m so sorry,” Sarah Urlacher told her, gently taking her hand and holding it. She was sincere, and her kindness touched Margaret’s heart. Sarah’s husband, Dennis, stood with her. His eyes revealed genuine compassion.

Margaret nodded, wishing she knew the couple better. It was her father who was well acquainted with the folks in Buffalo Valley. He’d been doing business there for years. Dennis delivered fuel to the ranch, so Margaret at least knew him, even if their relationship was just a casual one. Sarah owned and operated Buffalo Valley Quilts, a growing enterprise that seemed to be attracting interest all around the country. Margaret knew Sarah only by sight; they hadn’t shared more than a few perfunctory greetings.

She wanted to thank everyone for coming—she really did appreciate their expressions of sympathy and respect—and at the same time f ind a way to steer them out the door. Making conversation with people she hardly knew was beyond her. She was polite, cordial, but a tightness had gripped her chest, and it demanded every ounce of restraint she could muster not to rush to the barn, saddle Midnight and ride until she was too exhausted to go farther.

Bob and Merrily Carr came next, with their little boy, Axel. They owned and operated 3 OF A KIND, Buffalo Valley’s bar and grill. After that, the banker, Heath Quantrill, offered his condolences. Rachel Fischer was with him, and if Margaret remembered correctly, they were a couple now.

Ranchers and farmers crowded the house. So many people. There barely seemed room to breathe.

“Do you need anything?” Maddy McKenna asked with a gentleness that nearly broke Margaret’s facade. Maddy was the best friend she’d ever had. If anyone understood, it would be Maddy.

“I want everyone to leave,” Margaret whispered, fighting back emotion. The lump in her throat refused to go away and she had trouble talking around it.

Maddy took Margaret by the arm and led her down the long hallway to her bedroom. The two of them had spent many an afternoon in this very room; at Margaret’s entreaty, Maddy had tried to instruct her in the arts of looking and acting feminine—feminine enough to attract Matt Eilers. Not that her efforts had been noticed. Not by him, anyway.

“Sit,” Maddy ordered, pointing to Margaret’s bed.

Without argument, Margaret complied.

“When was the last time you had any sleep?”

Margaret blinked, unable to recall. “A while ago.” The night before the funeral she’d sat up and gone through her father’s papers. He had everything in order, as she’d suspected he would. He’d realized months ago that he was dying.

“Lie down,” Maddy said.

“I have a house full of company,” Margaret objected weakly. It went against the grain to let someone dictate what she should or shouldn’t do. With anyone else, she’d have made a fuss, insisted it was her place to be with her father’s friends.

“You’re dead on your feet,” Maddy told her.

Margaret nestled her head in her pillow, surprised by how good it felt against her face. How cool and comforting. “I…I thought I was prepared,” she said, her eyes closed. “I thought I could handle this.”

“No one’s ever ready to lose a father,” Maddy said as she covered Margaret with the afghan from the foot of the bed. The weight of it settled warmly over her shoulders.

“Sleep now. By the time you wake, everyone will be gone.”

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same again,” Margaret whispered.

“You’re right, it won’t.”

Maddy’s voice sounded soothing, even if her words didn’t. But then, Margaret could count on her friend to tell the truth. Already she could feel sleep approach, could feel the tension leave her body. “Matt didn’t attend the funeral, did he?”

“No,” Maddy said.

“I thought he would.” She was keenly disappointed that he hadn’t bothered to show up.

“I know.”

Maddy was disappointed in him, too. Margaret could tell from the inf lection in her voice. Few people understood why she loved Matt. If pressured to explain, Margaret wasn’t sure she could justify her feelings. Matt Eilers was as handsome as sin, shallow and conceited. But she loved him and had from the moment she’d met him.

With Maddy’s tutoring, Margaret had done everything possible to get Matt to recognize that she was a woman with a woman’s heart. A few months back, she’d had her hair done and put on panty hose for the f irst time in her life. The panty hose had nearly wrestled her to the ground and the new hairdo had made her look like one of the Marx Brothers—in her opinion, anyway. The whole beautifying operation had been a unique form of torture, but she’d willingly do it all again for Matt.

“I’m sure he’ll stop by later and pay his respects,” Margaret whispered, confident that he would.

“He should have been here today.” Maddy wasn’t nearly as forgiving. “Don’t worry about Matt.”

“I’m not.”

“Call me in the morning,” Maddy said.

“I will,” she promised, exhausted and grateful for Maddy’s friendship. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of the father she loved and how bleak her life would feel without him.

Jeb McKenna knew his wife well, and her silence worried him as he drove the short distance between the Clemens house and his ranch. Unlike the Clemense’s and most other ranchers in the area, Jeb raised bison; Maddy owned the grocery store in town. Right now, though, she was staying home with their infant daughter.

“You’re worried about Margaret, aren’t you?” he asked as he turned down the mile-long dirt driveway leading to their home. Maddy had barely said a word after seeing Margaret to her room.

“She was ready to collapse,” Maddy told him. “God only knows the last time she slept. Sadie said she’d been up for two nights straight.”

“Poor thing.” One didn’t generally think of Margaret in those terms. She came across as tough, strong, capable. They’d been neighbors for about five years—ever since Jeb had bought the property—and he’d seen Margaret on a number of different occasions. It was some time before he’d realized Margaret was a she instead of a he.

It’d startled him, but he wasn’t the only person she’d inadvertently fooled. Maddy confessed that when they’d first met, she’d taken Margaret for a ranch hand.

“Bernard’s death has shaken her.”

Jeb understood. Joshua McKenna was in his late sixties now, and Jeb knew that sooner or later he, too, would lose his father. The inevitability of it made him feel a wave of sadness…and regret. He parked the car and turned off the engine.

“I’ll talk to Margaret in the morning,” Maddy said absently.

The October wind beat against him as Jeb climbed out of the vehicle and reached in the back to unfasten Julianne’s car seat. At three months she was showing more personality than he would’ve thought possible. She gurgled and smiled, waving her arms as though orchestrating life from her infant seat. She’d proved to be a good-natured baby, happy and even-tempered.

Carrying the baby seat, he covered Julianne’s face with the blanket and hurried toward the house, doing his best to protect his wife and daughter from the brunt of the wind.

Maddy switched on the kitchen lights and Jeb set the baby carrier on the recliner, unfastening Julianne and cradling her in his arms.

“I liked Pastor Dawson,” Maddy said casually.

The Methodist minister had recently taken up residence in town. Although Larry Dawson had grown up in Buffalo Valley, Jeb didn’t remember him. That wasn’t surprising, seeing that the pastor was near retirement age. Dawson was slight in stature, his hair—what was left of it—completely white. He hadn’t been in contact with Bernard Clemens for many years, but he’d given a respectable eulogy.

“The pastor invited us to church services on Sunday,” she murmured.

Although it was an offhand remark, Jeb knew Maddy was interested in becoming involved with a church community. He hesitated; the drive into Buffalo Valley took at least fifty minutes, and that was on a good day. Going to church would consume nearly all of Sunday morning. He opened his mouth, about to offer his wife a list of excuses as to why it would be inconvenient to attend. Before he could utter a word, he changed his mind. The fact that she’d mentioned the invitation at all meant this was important to her and shouldn’t be taken lightly.

When he married Maddy, Jeb knew there’d be a number of concessions on his part, but he loved her enough to make them. She’d certainly made concessions of her own—one of which was living so far out of town, away from her friends and the grocery she’d purchased a little more than a year ago. Church for Maddy would be a social outlet, and it would uplift her emotionally and spiritually. Women needed that.

Jeb and Maddy had met soon after she’d bought the one and only grocery store in Buffalo Valley. Her lifelong friend, Lindsay Snyder, had begun teaching at the high school and married Gage Sinclair the following summer. Maddy had been Lindsay’s maid of honor; the very day of the wedding she’d decided to settle in Buffalo Valley herself.

Jeb would be forever grateful that she had. His life changed the day he rescued Maddy during a blizzard. She’d been trapped in her car while delivering groceries and would have frozen to death if he hadn’t found her when he did. He’d brought her home with him, never suspecting that their time together would have consequences affecting both their lives. Consequences that included an unexpected pregnancy… He’d fallen in love with her in those three snowbound days. After losing his leg in a farming accident several years earlier, Jeb had thought it would never be possible for him to live a normal life again—or to feel normal emotions, normal desires. Maddy had shown him otherwise. They’d been married four months now and he was so much in love with her he had to pinch himself every once in a while to convince himself this was real.

“What do you think about us attending church services?” she pressed, studying him closely.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” he said. It wouldn’t hurt and might even do him some good.

Her smile told him how much she appreciated his response.

A few minutes later, Maddy efficiently changed Julianne’s diaper, then settled into the rocking chair. She unbuttoned her blouse and bared her breast for their baby. Fascinated, Jeb watched as his infant daughter instinctively turned toward her mother and greedily latched on.

Maddy rocked gently and hummed a lullaby. It wasn’t long before his daughter had taken her fill and Maddy carried her into the nursery to prepare her for the night.

Jeb had the television on, watching a news broadcast, when Maddy joined him. They’d decided to skip dinner, since they’d eaten the equivalent of a meal at Bernard’s wake that afternoon. Now, sitting at her husband’s side, Maddy picked up her knitting, a recently learned skill. Leta Betts, a devout knitter and Lindsay’s mother-in-law, had taught both Maddy and Lindsay how to knit while they were pregnant. “I wonder what Margaret’s going to do now.”

Jeb glanced away from the television long enough to recognize that Maddy needed to talk about this. He reached for the remote control and muted the sound. “It wasn’t as though Bernard’s death came as a shock.”

“I know. It’s just that…”

“What?” he urged.

“I’m worried about what’ll happen to Margaret without her father there to protect her.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s alone for the f irst time in her life—and vulnerable.”

Jeb frowned. He hadn’t given the matter much thought, but Maddy was right. Margaret had lived a sheltered life, protected by her father and his name.

“She’s easy prey for some man. Anyone with a good line can just step in and take advantage of her. Look at all the attention she got at Bob and Merrily’s wedding.”

Jeb had no recollection of anything about that night except Maddy. She’d been seven months pregnant with his child. It was the night he’d asked her to marry him and she’d agreed. Read more

Dakota Home

It was the screaming that woke him.

Jeb bolted upright in bed and forced himself to look around the darkened room, to recognize familiar details. Four years had passed since the accident. Four years in which his mind refused to release even one small detail of that fateful afternoon.

Leaning against his headboard, he dragged in deep gulps of air until the shaking subsided. Invariably with the dream came the pain, the pain in his leg. The remembered agony of that summer’s day.

His mind refused to forget and so did his body. As he waited for his hammering pulse to return to normal, pain shot through his badly scarred thigh, cramping his calf muscle. Instinctively cringing, he stiffened until the discomfort passed.

Then he started to laugh. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jeb reached for his prosthesis and strapped it onto the stump of his left leg. This was the joke: The pain Jeb experienced, the charley horse that knotted and twisted his muscles, was in a leg that had been amputated four years earlier.

He’d cheated death that day, but death had gained its own revenge. The doctors had a phrase for it. They called it phantom pain, and assured him that eventually it would pass. It was all part of his emotional adjustment to the loss of a limb. Or so they said, over and over, only Jeb had given up listening a long time ago.

After he’d dressed, he made his way into the kitchen, eager to get some caffeine into his system and dispel the lingering effects of the dream. Then he remembered he was out of coffee.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Sarah had purposely forgotten coffee when she’d delivered his supplies. This was his sister’s less-than-subtle effort to make him go into town. It wouldn’t work. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate him—even if it meant roasting barley and brewing that.

Jeb slammed out the back door and headed for the barn, his limp more pronounced with his anger. His last trip into Buffalo Valley had been at Christmas, almost ten months earlier. Sarah knew how he felt about people staring at him, whispering behind his back as if he wasn’t supposed to know what they were talking about. He’d lost his leg, not his hearing or his intelligence. Their pity was as unwelcome as their curiosity.

Jeb hadn’t been particularly sociable before the accident and was less so now. Sarah knew that, too. She was also aware that his least favorite person in Buffalo Valley was Marta Hansen, the grocer’s wife. The old biddy treated him like a charity case, a poor, pathetic cripple—as if it was her duty, now that his mother was gone, to smother him with sympathy. Her condescending manner offended him and hurt his already wounded pride.

Jeb knew he made people uncomfortable. His loss reminded other farmers of their own vulnerability. With few exceptions, namely Dennis, the men he’d once considered friends felt awkward and uneasy around him. Even more now that he’d given up farming and taken up raising bison. For the past three and a half years he’d maintained a herd of fifty breeding animals. He’d learned mostly by trial and error, but felt he’d made considerable progress.

Genesis, his gelding, walked to the corral fence and stretched his head over the rail to remind Jeb he hadn’t been fed yet.

“I haven’t had my coffee,” he told the quarter horse, as if the animal could commiserate with him. He hardly ever rode anymore, but kept the horse for company.

He fed the gelding, then returned to the kitchen.

Cursing his sister and her obstinate ways, he wrote a grocery list—if he was going into town he’d make it worth his while—and hurried toward his pickup. The October wind felt almost hot in his face. A few minutes later, he drove out of the yard, sparing a glance for the bison grazing stolidly on either side. He moved the herd on a pasture rotation system. Later in the day he’d separate the weanlings and feeders from the main herd.

Buffalo ranching. He’d made the right decision. They were hardy animals, requiring less care than cattle did. The demand for their meat was growing and often exceeded supply. Business was good. Currently his females were worth more as breeding stock than meat: just last week, Jeb had sold one of his cows for a healthy five thousand dollars.

To his surprise, he enjoyed the fifty-minute drive to Buffalo Valley, although he rarely ventured into town these days. Usually he preferred to drive with no real destination, enjoying the solitude and the changing seasons and the feel of the road.

When he pulled into town, he was immediately struck by the changes the last ten months had brought to Buffalo Valley. Knight’s Pharmacy was and always had been the brightest spot on Main Street. Hassie Knight had been around as long as he could remember and served the world’s best old-fashioned ice-cream sodas. He’d loved that place as a kid and had considered it a special treat when his mother took him there on Saturday afternoons.

Like Marta Hansen, Hassie Knight had been a friend of his mother’s; she was also the one woman he knew, other than Sarah, who didn’t make him feel like a cripple.

3 OF A KIND, the town’s only hotel, bar and grill, was down the street from the pharmacy, Jeb had briefly met Buffalo Bob a couple of years earlier. He never did understand why a leather-clad, tattooed biker with a ponytail would settle in Buffalo Valley, but it wasn’t up to him to question. Bob had lasted longer than Jeb had thought he would. People seemed to like him, or so Calla, Jeb’s niece, had informed him.

The Pizza Parlor was new, but now that he thought about it, he remembered Sarah telling him Calla had started working there part-time. Good thing—the kid needed an outlet. She was fifteen and full of attitude. Jeb suspected that Dennis and his sister would have been married by now if it wasn’t for Calla.

Sarah’s quilting store came into view next and despite his irritation with her, he couldn’t squelch his sense of pride. Her quilts were exquisite, crafted from muslin colored with various natural dyes that Sarah derived from plants, berries and lichen. She managed to make something complex and beautiful out of this hand-dyed muslin, combining traditional methods with her own designs. The store was a testament to her talent and skill. She took justifiable pride in her work, displaying quilts in the front window of what had once been a florist shop. The Spring Bouquet had been closed for at least fifteen years. Folks didn’t buy a luxury like hothouse flowers when it was hard enough just getting food on the table. Read more

All Roads Lead Home

Now available for the first time as an eBook, Debbie Macomber’s moving novel of heartbreak and hope is a classic story about how love can heal even the deepest wounds. Twelve years have passed since Angie Robinson fled her hometown Read more

Navy Wife

After walking over to the window in her brother’s empty apartment, Lindy Kyle paused and let her tired gaze rest on the view of downtown Seattle. Dusk was settling over the steel jungle, and giant shadows from the skyscrapers fell into the maze of concrete across the picturesque waterfront. In another mood Lindy would have been struck by the intricate beauty of what lay before her, but not now.
Seattle, as Steve had claimed, really was a lovely city. When she’d arrived, she’d been so preoccupied with trying to find the address of the apartment and the appropriate parking space for her Volkswagen Rabbit in the lot behind the building that she hadn’t taken the time to notice anything around her.

Now she sighed at the panorama that lay before her. “I’m actually here,” she said, mainly to hear herself speak. She’d come to expect a lot from one western city. She felt as an immigrant might have years ago, sailing into New York Harbor, seeking a new way of life and freedom from the shackles of the past. Lindy had been bound, too, in the chains of grief and unhappiness.

Dramatically she posed, pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, her right hand held high as if gripping a lighted torch, her left firmly clasping imaginary stone tablets. “Okay, Seattle, give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Lindy sucked in a shaky breath and battled back tears. “Seattle, calm my fears. Clear my head.” She dropped her arms and swallowed at the growing knot in her throat. “Heal my heart,” she added in a broken whisper. “Please, heal my heart….”

Exhaling raggedly, she dropped her arm and admitted it was too much to expect – even from a place that had once been honored as the most livable city in the United States. Far too much to ask.

Suddenly exhausted, Lindy picked up her suitcase and headed down the narrow hallway toward the two bedrooms. She opened the first door and stood in the doorway examining the room. The closet, which was partly open, displayed an organized row of civilian clothes hanging inside, crisp and neat. A framed picture or two rested on the dresser, but Lindy didn’t pay attention to those. This had to be the bedroom of Rush Callaghan, her brother’s roommate. Currently both men were at sea serving six-month tours of duty. Steve was an officer aboard the submarine Atlantis, somewhere in the Pacific upholding God, country and the American flag. Lindy had no idea where Rush was and didn’t particularly care. Men weren’t exactly her favorite subject at the moment.

She closed the bedroom door and moved on to the next room. A dresser drawer hung open, mismatched socks draped over its edge. Bulky-knit sweaters were carelessly tossed on the ledge above the closet and shoes were heaped in a pile on the floor.

“Home, sweet home,” Lindy said with a soft smile. She really was fond of her brother, and although he was nearly ten years older, her childhood had been marked with memories of his wit and warmth. She laid her suitcase across the unmade bed, opened it and reached for Steve’s letter. “Come to Seattle,” he’d written in his lazy, uneven scrawl.

“Forget the past and make a new life for yourself.” Steve had had firsthand experience with pain, Lindy knew, and she respected his judgment. He’d survived the emotional trauma of divorce and seemed to have come out of it with a new maturity.

“You’ll know which bedroom is mine,” Steve’s letter continued. “I can’t remember the last time I changed the sheets so you might want to do that before you crash.”

Crashing certainly sounded inviting, Lindy mused, sinking with a sigh onto the edge of the unmade bed.

Although she’d nearly memorized Steve’s words, Lindy read completely through the letter once more. Clean sheets were in the hall closet, he explained, and she decided to tackle making the bed as soon as she’d unpacked her things. The washer and dryer were in a small laundry room off the kitchen, the letter went on to say.

When she finished reading, Lindy placed Steve’s instructions on top of the dresser. She stripped off the sheets, carried the bedding into the laundry room and started the washing machine.

When the phone rang it caught her off guard, and she widened her eyes and placed her hand over her heart as shock waves washed over her.

It rang one more time before she decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Lindy, it’s your mother.”

“Oh, hi, Mom.” Lindy smiled at her parents’ habit of identifying themselves. She’d been able to recognize her own family’s voices since she was a child.

“I take it you’ve arrived safely. Honey, you should have phoned – your father and I’ve been worried.”

Lindy sighed. “Mom, I just walked in the door not more than ten minutes ago. I was planning to phone after I fixed myself something to eat.”

“Did your car give you any problems?”

“None.”

“Good.” Her mother sounded relieved.

“Everything’s fine – just the way I said it would be,” Lindy added.

“What about money?”

“Mom, I’m doing great.” A slight exaggeration, but Lindy wasn’t desperate – at least she wouldn’t be if she found a job reasonably soon. The unemployment problem was one she hoped to correct first thing in the morning.

“I talked to your Uncle Henry in Kansas City and he said you should think about applying at Boeing … that airplane company. He claims they’re always looking for someone with a degree in computer science.”

“I’ll do that right away,” Lindy answered in an effort to appease her mother.

“You’ll let us know when you’ve found something?”

“Yes, Mom. I promise.”

“And don’t be shy about asking for money. Your father and I -”

“Mom, please don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just great.”

Her mother expelled her breath in a long, anxious sigh. “I do worry about you, sweetie. You’ve been so terribly unhappy. I can’t tell you how disappointed your father and I are in that young man of yours.”

“Paul isn’t mine anymore.” Lindy’s voice trembled a little, but she needed to say it out loud every now and then just to remind herself of the fact. For four years she’d linked all thoughts of her future with Paul; being without him felt as though a large part of herself was missing.

“I saw his mother the other day, and I’ll have you know I took a great deal of pleasure in looking the other way,” Grace Kyle continued, with more than a hint of righteous indignation.

“What happened between Paul and me isn’t Mrs. Abram’s fault.”

“No. But she obviously didn’t raise her son right – not if he could do something this underhanded and despicable to you.”

“Mom, do you mind if we don’t talk about Paul anymore? Ever?” Even the mention of his name brought with it a sharp pain, yet part of her was still hungering for news of him. Someday, Lindy vowed, she’d look back on these awful months and smile at the memory. Someday, maybe. But not now.

“Lindy, of course I won’t talk about Paul if you don’t want me to. I was being insensitive – forgive me, sweetie.”

“It’s all right, Mom.” Read more

Navy Husband

I, Shana Berrie, am my sister’s official navy “parenting plan.” That means I’m in charge of adorable Jazmine until my sis returns. But—surprise!—nine-year-olds have lots of opinions, including ones on my love life (or lack thereof ). Now she’s trying Read more

Ending in Marriage

Rediscover an exciting and heartfelt, opposites attract romance from New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber. Duke Porter is the best pilot of Midnight Sons, a bush-plane charter service located in the small town of Hard Luck, Alaska. He is a rugged, Read more

Falling for Him

Hard Luck, Alaska- a town that needs women! Location: 50 miles north of the Arctic Circle. Population: 150 — mostly men — but growing! Because the O’Halloran brothers, who run a bush-plane charter service called Midnight Sons, are heading a Read more

Navy Woman

Rain. That’s all it had done from the moment Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson, Judge Advocate General Corps – JAGC – arrived at the Naval Submarine Base Bangor in Silverdale, Washington. October in Hawaii meant balmy ocean breezes, mai-tais by the pool and eighty-degree sunshine.
In other words she’d left paradise and had been transferred to purgatory.

If the weather wasn’t enough to discourage her, the executive officer, Commander Royce Nyland was. Catherine had never met anyone who irritated her more. The legal staff stationed in Hawaii had shared a camaraderie that made working together a pleasant experience.

Bangor was a different story, but the contrast was most telling in the differences between Catherine’s two superiors. She simply didn’t like the man, and from all outward appearances the feeling was mutual.

From the first, Catherine knew something wasn’t right. In no other station had she been required to stand duty so often. For four weeks straight she’d been assigned the twenty-four-hour watch on a Friday night. It was as if Commander Nyland had made it his personal goal to disrupt her entire life.

After a month, Catherine was getting downright testy about it.

“Fredrickson, do you have the files on the Miller case?”

“Yes, sir.” She stood, reached for the requested file and handed it to the man who’d been dominating her thoughts for the majority of the day.

Commander Nyland opened the file and started reading as he walked away from her. Catherine’s gaze followed him as she tried to analyze what it was about her he disliked so much. Perhaps he had something against brunettes. Although that sounded crazy, Catherine couldn’t help wondering. Maybe it was because she was petite and small-boned. More than likely, she reminded him of someone he once knew and disliked intensely. Well that was just too damn bad. As far as Catherine could see, she’d done nothing to deserve his disdain, and frankly, she wasn’t about to put up with any more of it.

Scuttlebutt had it that he was single. Catherine had no trouble believing it. If his behavior toward her was any indication of how he treated women, then this guy needed a major attitude adjustment.

His apparent dislike of her solved one problem. Catherine needn’t worry about anything romantic developing between them. If she were looking for an effective way to end her Navy career, all she had to do was start fraternizing with a superior officer within the same command. It was the quickest way Catherine knew to be court-martialed. The Navy refused to tolerate such behavior.

Besides his rotten attitude, Commander Nyland wasn’t her type. Catherine liked her men less rough around the edges and a whole lot more agreeable.

In eleven years of Navy life, Catherine had worked with her share of officers, but no one had ever struck such a strong, discordant note with her.

Nothing she did pleased him. Nothing. The closest she’d ever gotten to praise from her XO had been a hard nod, as if that were sufficient compliment. A nod!

The crazy part of it was, Catherine had actually gotten excited over it. All day she’d gone around wearing a silly grin.

She needed to get back to Hawaii, and fast.

“Come into my office, Lieutenant Commander.”

Catherine glanced up, startled to discover Commander Nyland standing directly in front of her desk.

“Yes, sir,” she answered briskly. She stood and reached for a notepad before following him into his office.

Commander Nyland took his seat and motioned for Catherine to sit in the cushioned chair located on the opposite side of his desk.

Catherine glanced around and swallowed nervously. She didn’t like the looks of this. The great and almighty commander was frowning. Not that it was the least bit unusual. To the best of her memory, she couldn’t remember him ever smiling.

She quickly reviewed the cases she’d been working on for the past few days, and could think of nothing that would warrant a tongue-lashing. Not that he needed an excuse, of course.

The silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths as she waited for him to acknowledge her. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him he was the one who’d called her into his office, but she’d be a fool to allow a hint of sarcasm into her voice.

“I’ve been following your progress for the past several weeks.” His indifferent blue gaze raked her features. Catherine had never been more aware of her appearance. Her thick, dark hair was coiled in a businesslike knot at her nape, and her uniform jacket and skirt were crisp and freshly pressed. She had the impression if he found one crease, she’d be ordered to stand in front of a firing squad. No man had ever made her feel more self-conscious. He continued to stare at her as if seeing her for the first time. There was no hint of appreciation for her good looks. Catherine wasn’t conceited, but she was reasonably attractive, and the fact the man looked at her as if she were little more than a mannequin was vaguely insulting. Okay, she was being unreasonable, Catherine mused. If she had recognized a flicker of interest in those cobalt-blue eyes of his, that would have been worse. Read more

Promise, Texas

“Annie, I’m so sorry! I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

Annie Applegate shifted the receiver to her other ear and blinked repeatedly. Jane Patterson’s sympathetic voice had brought tears to her eyes.

“You should’ve let me know,” Jane continued.

It’d taken Annie nearly twelve months to write her childhood friend about the disasters that had befallen her in the past two years. Jane had called the minute she’d read the letter; Annie was grateful for that, although even now, a friend’s genuine sympathy threatened her shaky resolve in a way that indifference didn’t.

“I. .couldn’t,” she said. “Not right away.”

Four years ago, Jane had left southern California—where Annie still lived—and moved to Promise, a town in the Texas hill country. She’d gone there to work in the local health clinic as partial payment for her medical-school loans. Her parents had been dismayed and delighted in equal parts when their only daughter married a local rancher and settled in the small community.

“What are you going to do?” Jane asked briskly. She’d always had a practical, we-can-deal-with-this quality that Annie envied. “What are your plans?”

Annie wished she knew. The question was one she’d asked herself a thousand times since the car accident and everything that had followed.

“Do you think you’ll stay in California?” Jane pressed when Annie didn’t answer.

“I…I don’t know. Probably not.” Only she had nowhere to go, nowhere she needed to be, and no real family to speak of. Her friends here all seemed at a loss. They urged her to get on with her life; what they didn’t understand was that she needed a completely different direction. A new sense of purpose. If she was going to pick up the shattered pieces that had once been her comfortable orderly existence and move forward, she had to make some real changes first.

“Come to Promise,” Jane said, her voice unnaturally high with excitement.

“Texas?” Annie murmured. “You want me to go to Texas? ”

“Oh, Annie, you’d love it! This town isn’t like anyplace else in the world. The people are friendly and kind and there’s a…a kind of caring here. Promise is small-town America at its best.” Jane’s enthusiasm was un-mistakable—and contagious. “Small-town Texas at its best, too.”

Annie smiled. “I’m sure a visit would do me a lot of good,” she said, thinking aloud, deciding then and there to take Jane up on her offer.

“I’m not suggesting a visit,” Jane said, interrupting Annie’s musings. “I think you should move here. You need a change, a fresh start—you know you do.” She hesitated. “It might sound odd, but I have this feeling that Promise needs you, too.”

Staring out the display window, Dovie Hennessey watched her husband hurrying along Promise’s main street. He was headed toward her shop, and judging by the look on his face, he had something he couldn’t wait to tell her.

“Dovie!” Frank barreled into the store a moment later, his eyes twinkling with amusement. At sixty-five, he remained muscular and fit, she noted with pride. Every time she saw him, he gave her heart a little thrill—even after three years of marriage. Their romance had begun more than a decade before they decided to “make it legal,” as Frank put it. He’d initially been reluctant, since he’d never been married before and was afraid of losing what he’d thought of as his freedom. Dovie, who’d been widowed for years, had desperately wanted the comfort and respectability of marriage. In the end Wade McMillen, the local pastor, had suggested the perfect compromise: marriage with separate residences. It hadn’t taken long, however, for Frank to move into Dovie’s house full-time.

“My goodness, Frank, what’s gotten into you?”

“Adam Jordan,” Frank told her, shaking his head. “I swear I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life. Just wait’ll you hear what that deputy did this time round.”

“Sheriff Jordan,” Dovie gently reminded him. Frank had retired five months earlier, and it had been an adjustment for both of them. After serving as the town’s sheriff for almost fifteen years, he’d found it difficult to hand over the reins to someone else.

Especially when that someone had been such an unpromising specimen as a teenager. Adam Jordan had gotten into one scrape after another and had nearly worried his parents sick before he enlisted with Uncle Sam. Somehow the army had straightened him out. To everyone’s amazement, Adam had thrived under the structure and discipline of military life. After basic training he’d applied and been accepted to Airborne Ranger School, and from there had gone on to serve a distinguished twelve years as a member of the elite outfit.

With the recent cutbacks in the military, Adam had returned to Promise. Much to the delight of his parents, who owned the local western-wear shop, he’d applied for a job with the sheriff’s department. Frank immediately saw that he’d found his replacement. Al Green, who’d served as deputy for almost twenty years, had no desire to assume the responsibilities of the sheriff’s position.

So Adam had arrived at precisely the right time. When Frank announced his retirement, the ex-Airborne Ranger had run for the office of sheriff and promptly been elected; that was almost six months ago now, in the November election. Frank continued to spend much of his time with Adam, helping, he claimed, with the transition. Dovie didn’t know who required more assistance, Adam or Frank.

“Boy’s made a fool of himself with that new teacher.” Frank chuckled. “Again. Locked her keys inside her car trying to show her the importance of security.”

Dovie groaned, embarrassed for Adam. Anyone could see he was infatuated with Jeannie French. Fresh out of college, the first-grade teacher had been hired the previous August, and Adam Jordan hadn’t been the same since. He’d done everything he could think of to attract her attention, but according to rumor, he hadn’t yet asked her out on a date. Some days, it was all Dovie could do to resist shaking some sense into the man.

“Naturally he had no way of knowing she always throws her car keys under the front seat,” Frank explained.

“Why in heaven’s name would she do something like that?” Dovie was exasperated with Jeannie, too. Surely the girl could figure out how Adam felt! She sighed; she could just imagine Adam’s face when he realized what he’d done.

Frank shrugged. “Why do women do anything?” he asked philosophically. “She had her purse with her, as well as the keys for the school. Apparently she picked up the habit from her father. He’s got a ranch a ways north of here. Not much concern about theft in a place like that. Or here, either.”

So Adam was smitten and the new schoolteacher ignored him. The two of them had become a running joke around town. Jeannie was sweet enough, and a dedicated teacher, determined to make a difference in her students’ lives. And Adam, for all his skills and talents, didn’t know a damn thing about letting a woman know he was interested. Now, after a series of embarrassments, Jeannie refused to respond to Adam’s overtures. Not that Dovie believed the girl should get involved in a relationship if she didn’t want to—but for heaven’s sake, she could give Adam a chance! The pair of them needed some guidance and good advice, but Dovie didn’t know who was going to provide it. At one time that role would have fallen to her, but these days, with her antique shop doing so well, and Frank’s retirement, she already had more than she could handle. Then, there was the situation with her friend Mary Patterson, only she didn’t want to think about Mary just now.

“How’d Jeannie take it?” Dovie asked.

“Not too well. You’d think poor Adam had done it on purpose.”

“He was able to unlock the car, wasn’t he?”

“Oh, eventually, but while he was fiddling with the door, Jeannie was giving him a piece of her mind.”

“Poor Adam,” Dovie said.

“Poor Adam, nothing. That boy got exactly what he deserved. He was showing off his authority, playing big man in town, and it backfired. Sure, his ego got dented, but it was a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“And you loved it.”

Frank sobered. “I did,” he admitted, “but not for the reasons you think. That boy reminds me of myself thirty-five years ago. Cocky as a rooster and high on self-importance. He’ll learn the same way I did—and probably a whole lot faster.”

Dovie wrapped her arms around her husband. He was right—there were similarities between him and Adam. She just hoped it didn’t take Adam as long as it had Frank to marry and settle down.

“By the way,” he said, “I stopped at the travel agency. Gayla had our tickets.” Frank slid the airline packet out of his hip pocket and set it on the counter. This European vacation had been planned for months. It was going to be a combination of business and pleasure; Dovie and Frank would spend two weeks touring major cities on the continent, purchasing a few antiques, visiting a museum here and there. They considered the trip a honeymoon of sorts—although Frank was quick to insist that their entire marriage had been a honeymoon—plus a celebration of Frank’s retirement.

“Hey,” Frank said, tilting Dovie’s head up so their eyes could meet. “You should be showing more excitement than this!”

“I am excited,” she told him, and she was. They’d talked about this trip for years, dreamed about it, too. Dovie had assumed they’d take budget tours, but Frank had insisted they go first-class all the way. While he was willing to go to a couple of museums, shop for antiques and help her arrange shipping, he wanted to make sure they had ample opportunity to enjoy the sights. And each other.

“Dovie Hennessey, I know you too well to be fooled,” Frank said, holding her gaze. “Something’s troubling you.”

It astonished her how well Frank did know her. She’d been married to Marvin Boyd for twenty-five years, and he’d always been oblivious to her moods. That certainly wasn’t the case with Frank. There was an almost intuitive bond between them, one that marriage had honed and strengthened. She’d never expected to fall in love again, let alone experience a love like this. And the love-making, oh my, just thinking about the delights they’d found with each other…well, it made her heart beat triple time.

“It’s Mary,” Dovie said reluctantly.

“What’s the problem with Mary?”

Dovie didn’t know how to answer. Mary Patterson had been Dovie’s best friend for most of her life. They’d graduated from high school together. She’d been Mary’s maid of honor, and later Mary had returned the favor.

Over the years Dovie had watched Mary and her husband, Phil, raise two fine sons.

It was Mary who had stood with her when Marvin was buried, Mary who’d helped her through the difficult months that followed. After Phil’s heart problems were diagnosed, Dovie had encouraged the couple to hand over the management of their cattle ranch to their sons and move into town. Not ready to retire completely, they’d started a bed-and-breakfast—and no one was more surprised at its success than Mary and Phil themselves. For years she and Mary had spoken on the phone every day or so, saw each other often and shared all their joys and sorrows. Dovie felt the same way about Mary as she would’ve felt about a sister.

“You’re not answering me,” Frank said softly. His hands caressed her shoulders as he studied her.

“Because I don’t know how.”

“Start at the beginning.”

If only it was that easy. “Something’s…not right.” There wasn’t anything Dovie could put her finger on, nothing she could pinpoint other than a vague feeling. In fact, until this very moment, she hadn’t intended to say a word, not even to Frank.

“How do you mean?”

“Not right” was nebulous, she realized, but it was the best she could do. “I don’t know,” Dovie had to admit again. “I just don’t know. But it seems we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Frank took a few moments to consider this. “Do you think she might be a little jealous of our taking a trip to Europe?”

Dovie laughed outright at that, but then, Frank didn’t know Mary the way she did. “Not in the least. Mary doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body.”

“So, what do you mean you’re not as close as you used to be? Seems to me you two are constantly chatting on the phone.”

“Yes, but…” What her husband said was true enough, yet lately their almost daily talks had felt strained. Even strained was too harsh a word—this change had begun months ago, very slowly, only Dovie wasn’t sure how she knew that. The difference was subtle, but somehow Mary seemed less attentive, less interested in their conversations.

That very morning was a perfect example. One thing Mary and Dovie enjoyed was sharing recipes and ideas about food and decorating. Both of them took an unabashed delight in everything domestic—the Martha Stewarts of Texas, Frank called them. Mary had been instrumental in convincing Dovie to open the small tearoom inside the antique store and had encouraged her to serve some of her special recipes. Because of Mary, Dovie’s chocolate-dipped peanut-butter cookies and the buttermilk crust for her apple pie were two of the town’s favorites. Yet this morning, when Dovie had mentioned a new coffee-cake recipe she planned to try, Mary had sounded…indifferent.

“But what?” Frank asked when she didn’t continue.

“I just don’t know,” Dovie said, starting to feel a bit desperate. “Something’s wrong. I feel it in my bones.”

“Come to Promise.” Annie Applegate repeated Jane’s invitation aloud as she drove down the narrow Texas highway toward her new life. Her friends thought she was crazy to pack up everything she owned and move to Texas, to a town she’d never even seen. Perhaps they were right, but it felt good to be taking some positive action.

When they were teenagers, Jane Dickinson had been one of her best friends. Correction, Dr. Jane Patterson. It was hard to remember that Jane wasn’t simply Jane any longer, but a fully certified physician. Not only that, Jane was married—and Annie wasn’t. Oh, she had been, but a serious car accident had left her with a permanent limp and a husband who found himself incapable of loving a woman whose once-perfect body was now marred by ugly red scars.

No, Annie told herself, she was not going to dwell on Billy, although that had become nearly impossible since she’d learned his new wife was pregnant. What hurt most was that Billy knew how much she’d longed for a child. Before the wedding, they’d frequently discussed the family they’d have—at least three kids, close together. As an engineer, Billy earned enough to support a wife and children; he’d claimed he was willing to forgo extra cars and trips and other luxuries. Annie had thought of little else but quitting her job at the library and becoming a full-time wife and mother.

During the five years of their marriage, Billy had put her off with a detailed list of reasons they should wait before starting a family. In retrospect, it was a blessing children hadn’t been involved in the divorce.

Annie had wanted to put all the pain and betrayal of the marriage behind her; she’d done that symbolically by reverting to her maiden name.

The car accident had cost her six months of employment, three operations, physical therapy and almost constant pain. But those were minor inconveniences compared to the death of her marriage.

“Make a new life for yourself in Promise,” Jane had suggested. “Our library has a limited budget and is only open part-time. This town needs a good bookstore.” Read more

Return to Promise

Cal Patterson knew his wife would be furious. Competing in the annual Labor Day rodeo, however, was worth Jane’s wrath—although little else was.

Bull riding had always enticed him, even more than bronc riding or roping or any of the other competitions. It was the thrill that got to him, the danger of riding a fifteen-hundred-pound bull, of staying on for eight seconds and sometimes longer. He craved the illusion that for those brief moments he was in control. Cal didn’t do it for the trophy—if he was fortunate enough to take top prize—or to hear his name broadcast across the rodeo grounds. He was drawn by the challenge, pitting his will against the bull’s savage strength, and yes, the risk. Jane would never understand that; she’d been raised a city girl and trained as a doctor, and she disapproved of what she called unnecessary risk. In her opinion, bull riding fell squarely into that category. He’d tried to explain his feelings about it, but clearly he’d failed. Jane still objected fervently whenever he mentioned his desire to enter rodeo competitions. Okay, okay, so he’d busted a rib a few years back and spent several pain-filled weeks recuperating. Jane had been angry with him then, too. She’d gotten over it, though, and she would again—but not without inducing a certain amount of guilt first.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she ushered their three-year-old son, Paul, into the bleachers. Cal dutifully followed behind, carrying eighteen-month-old Mary Ann, who was sound asleep in his arms. As soon as his family was settled, he’d be joining the other competitors near the arena. A few minutes later, Jane would open the program and see his name. Once she did, all hell would break loose. He sighed heavily. His brother and sister-in-law would be arriving shortly, and if he was lucky, that’d buy him a couple of minutes.

“Glen and Ellie are meeting us here, aren’t they?” Jane asked, her voice lowered so as not to disturb the baby. His daughter rested her head of soft blond curls against his shoulder, thumb in her mouth. She looked peaceful, downright angelic—quite a contrast to her usual energetic behavior.

“They’ll be here soon,” Cal answered, handing Mary Ann to Jane.

With two children demanding her time and attention, plus the ranch house and everything else, Jane had cut back her hours at the medical clinic to one weekend a month. Cal knew she missed practicing medicine on a more frequent basis, but she never complained. He considered himself a lucky man to have married a woman so committed to family. When the kids were in school, she’d return to full-time practice, but for now, Paul and Mary Ann were the focus of her life.

Just then, Jane reached for the schedule of rodeo events and Cal tensed, anticipating her reaction.

“Cal Patterson, you didn’t!” Her voice rose to something resembling a shriek as she turned and glared at him.

“Cal?” She waited, apparently hoping for an explanation.

However, he had nothing to say that he hadn’t already said dozens of times. It wouldn’t do any good to trot out his rationalizations yet again; one look told him she wouldn’t be easily appeased. His only option was to throw himself on her good graces and pray she’d forgive him quickly.

“You signed up for the bull ride?”

“Honey, now listen—”

“Are you crazy? You got hurt before! What makes you think you won’t get hurt this time, too?”

“If you’d give me a chance to—”

Jane stood, cradling Mary Ann against her. Paul stared up at his parents with a puzzled frown.

“Where are you going?” he asked, hoping he could mollify her without causing a scene.

“I refuse to watch.”

“But, darling…”

She scowled at him. “Don’t you darling me!”

Cal stood, too, and was given a reprieve when Glen and Ellie arrived, making their way down the long row of seats. His brother paused, glancing from one to the other, and seemed to realize what was happening. “I take it Jane found out?”

“You knew?” Jane asked coldly.

Ellie shook her head. “Not me! I just heard about it myself.”

“Looks like Jane’s leaving me,” Cal joked, trying to inject some humor into the situation. His wife was overreacting. There wasn’t a single reason she should walk out now, especially when she knew how excited their three-year-old son was about seeing his first rodeo.

“That’s exactly what you deserve,” she muttered, bending to pick up her purse and the diaper bag while holding Mary Ann tightly against her shoulder.

“Mommy?”

“Get your things,” she told Paul. “We’re going home.”

Paul’s lower lip started to quiver, and Cal could tell that his son was struggling not to cry. “I want to see the rodeo.”

“Jane, let’s talk about this,” Cal murmured.

Paul looked expectantly from his father to his mother, and Jane hesitated.

“Honey, please,” Cal said, hoping to talk her into forgiveness—or at least acceptance. True, he’d kept the fact that he’d signed up for bull riding a secret, but only because he’d been intent on delaying a fight. This fight.

“I don’t want Paul to see you injured,” she said.

“Have a little faith, would you?”

His wife frowned, her anger simmering.

“I rode bulls for years without a problem. Tell her, Glen,” he said, nodding at his brother.

“Hey,” Glen said, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re on your own with this one, big brother.”

“I don’t blame you for being mad,” Ellie said, siding with Jane. “I’d be furious, too.”

Women tended to stick together, but despite Ellie’s support, Cal could see that Jane was weakening.

“Let Paul stay for the rodeo, okay?” he cajoled. “He’s been looking forward to it all week. If you don’t want him to see me compete, I understand. Just leave when the bull riding starts. I’ll meet you at the chili cook-off when I’m done.”

“Please, Mommy? I want to see the rodeo,” Paul said again, eyes huge with longing. The boy pleaded his case far more eloquently than he could, and Cal wasn’t fool enough to add anything more.

Jane nodded reluctantly, and with a scowl in his direction, she sat down. Cal vowed he’d make it up to her later.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, wanting Jane to know he loved and appreciated her. He slid his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close. But all the while, his heart thundered with excitement at the thought of getting on the back of that bull. He couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering to the chute.

Jane might have been born and raised in the big city, but she was more than a little bit country now. Still, she’d probably never approve of certain rodeo events. Cal recognized her fears, and as a result, rarely competed anymore—hadn’t in five years. But he expected Jane to recognize the impulses that drove him, too.

Compromise. Wasn’t that what kept a marriage intact?

*
• *

Jane had no intention of forgetting Cal’s deceit, but now wasn’t the time or place to have it out with her husband. He knew how she felt about his competing in the rodeo. She’d made her views completely clear, even before they were married.

Still, she’d acquiesced and held her tongue. She glanced at Cal’s brother and sister-in-law and envied them. Their kids were with a baby-sitter, since they planned to attend the dance later that evening. Jane would’ve preferred to stay, too, but when she’d mentioned it to Cal, he’d balked. Dancing wasn’t his favorite activity and he’d protested and complained until she dropped it.

Then he’d pulled this stunt. Men!

Partway through the rodeo, Paul fell asleep, leaning against her side. Cal had already left to wait down by the arena with the other amateur riders. As the time approached for him to compete, she considered leaving, but then decided to stay. Her stomach would be in knots whether she was there watching him or not. Out of sight wasn’t going to put her risk-taking husband out of mind, and with Paul asleep, there was no reason to go now.

“Are you worried?” Ellie asked, casting her a sympathetic look.

She nodded. “Of course, I don’t know what Cal was thinking.”

“Who said he was thinking at all?” Ellie teased.

“Yeah—it’s the testosterone,” Jane muttered, wondering what her husband found so appealing about riding such dangerous beasts. Her nerves were shattered, and that wasn’t going to change. Not until she knew he was safe.

“I was hoping you and Cal would come to the dance.”

Ellie was obviously disappointed, but no more than Jane herself. She would’ve loved an evening out. Had she pressed the issue, Cal would eventually have given in, but it hadn’t seemed worth the arguments and the guilt. Besides, getting a sitter would’ve been difficult, since nearly everyone in Promise attended the annual Labor Day rodeo—and Ellie had managed to snag the services of Emma Bishop, one of the few teenagers available for baby-sitting.

“Cal didn’t want to leave the kids,” she explained. There’d be other dances, other opportunities, Jane reassured herself.

“He’s up next,” Glen said.

“Go, Cal!” Ellie squealed. Despite her sister-in-law’s effort to sound sympathetic, Jane could tell she was excited.

When Cal’s name was announced, Jane didn’t want to look but couldn’t stop herself. Cal was inside the pen, sitting astride the bull, one end of a rope wrapped around the saddle horn and the other around his hand. She held her sleeping child more tightly and bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Suddenly the gate flew open and fifteen hundred pounds of angry bull charged into the arena.

Almost immediately, Glen and Ellie were on their feet, shouting. Jane remained seated, her arms around her children. “What’s happening?” she asked Ellie in a tight, urgent voice.

“Cal’s doing great!” she exclaimed. Jane could barely hear her over the noise of the crowd. Ellie clapped wildly when the buzzer went. “He stayed on!” she crowed. “So far, he’s ahead!”

Jane nodded. How he’d managed to last all those seconds, she had no idea.

“Whew. Glad that’s over.” Ellie sank down next to Jane.

“My brother’s got a real flair for this,” Glen said to no one in particular. “He could’ve gone on the circuit if…” He let the rest fade.

“If he wasn’t married,” Jane said, completing his thought. Actually Glen’s assessment wasn’t really accurate. Her husband was a long-established rancher before she’d come on the scene. He’d competed in rodeos since he was in his teens, but if he’d been interested in turning professional, he would have done so when he was much younger. She had nothing to do with that decision.

“Glen,” Ellie said, squeezing her husband’s arm, “who’s that woman over there?” Ellie was staring at a brunette standing near the fence.

“What woman?” Glen asked.

“The one talking to Cal.”

Jane glanced over, and even from this distance she could see that the other woman was lovely. Tall and slender, she looked like a model from the pages of a Western-wear catalog in her tight jeans, red cowboy boots and brightly checked shirt. It was more than just her appearance, though. Jane noticed the confidence with which she held herself, the flirtatious way she flipped back her long brown hair. This was a woman who knew she looked good—especially to men.

“She seems familiar,” Ellie said, nudging Glen. “Don’t you think?”

“She does,” he agreed, “but I can’t place her.”

“Apparently she’s got a lot to say to Cal,” Ellie added, then glanced apologetically toward Jane as though she regretted mentioning it.

Jane couldn’t help being curious. The woman wasn’t anyone she recognized. She wasn’t the jealous type, but she found herself wondering how this Rodeo Princess knew her husband. It was clear that the woman was speaking animatedly to Cal, gesturing freely; for his part, Cal seemed more interested in what was happening with the rodeo than in listening to her.

Jane supposed she should be pleased by his lack of interest in another woman, and indeed she was. Then, as if aware of her scrutiny, her husband turned toward the bleachers and surveyed the crowd. His face broke into a wide grin when he caught her eye, and he waved. Earlier she’d been annoyed with him— in fact, she still was—but she’d never been able to resist one of Cal’s smiles. She waved in return and blew him a kiss.

An hour later, after Cal had been awarded the trophy for the amateur bull-riding competition, they decided to leave. With Mary Ann in the stroller and Paul walking between them, they made one last circuit of the grounds before heading toward the parking lot. They passed the chili cook-off tent, where the winner’s name was posted; for the first time in recent memory, it wasn’t Nell Grant. But then, Jane understood that Nell had declined to enter this year.

It was near dusk and lights from the carnival rides sparkled, delighting both Paul and Mary Ann. Cal’s arm was around Jane’s shoulder as they skirted the area set aside for the dance. The fiddle players were entertaining the audience while the rest of the musicians set up their equipment. People had gathered around, tapping their feet in anticipation.

The lively music had Jane swaying to the beat. “I wish we were staying,” she murmured, swallowing her disappointment.

“We’d better get home,” Cal said, swinging his trophy at his side. “I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m about as sore as a man can get.”

“Your rib?” she asked.

He grimaced, obviously in pain. “Are you going to lecture me?”

“I should,” she told him. “But I won’t. You knew the risks.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You’re right. I did.”

What really bothered her was that he’d known—and participated, anyway. He was fully aware that he could’ve been badly injured, or worse. And for what? She simply didn’t understand why a man would do anything so foolish when he had so much to lose. Read more

Same Time, Next Year

HIS SUMMER BRIDE That sparkly New Year’s Eve in Vegas, dignified Judge James Wilkens impulsively rescued a most seductive damsel in distress. And one unforgettable night with Summer Lawton had him vowing to meet her at the same time, the Read more

Nell’s Cowboy

Nell Bishop, widowed mother of two children, is turning Twin Canyons into a dude ranch. One of her first guests is Travis Grant, a celebrity of sorts, a wannabe cowboy, an “Easterner” known for his books about the West. Nell’s Read more