| The Cowboy's Christmas Bride First in the series: Love at the Crazy H |
| Did a friendly ghost bring him a bride for Christmas? Allison ran away from her own wedding, only to be caught in a bitter Wyoming blizzard. Taking shelter at the Crazy H, she finds herself snowbound with a sexy rancher. She’s just ended one relationship, how can she fall into another? Having been left at the altar once, CJ isn’t about to get involved with a runaway bride. Can the magic of the holidays make this the best Christmas ever? Excerpt: Annoyed at fate and disgusted with herself, Allison shivered in her thin leather coat. The heater in her low-budget rental car was only semi-functional, and it was well below zero outside, in the high prairie of central Wyoming. The blinding mass of snowflakes was splattering against the window, providing a staccato counter-beat to the squishy slap of the windshield wipers. The lightweight car had begun to sway in the gusty wind, and the tires were beginning to bog down in heavy drifts. Allison knew when she was beat. She’d stop and beg for help from the first person she could find. Of course that left her with the minor problem of being lost out here in the middle of nowhere! She hadn’t seen a single sign of human habitation in at least half an hour. She hit the brakes hard, skidding sideways when the road she’d been traveling on ended at a T- intersection. Hmm, which path would take her toward civilization, or at least shelter? There were no visible tire tracks, and she didn’t even have a coin to toss. Looking down to the left, she saw only darkness and swirling snow. To the right there was more of the same. She was trying to figure out how to play rock-paper-scissors with herself when a flicker of movement caught her attention. How bizarre! Just for a moment, she’d have sworn she saw a person standing down the road to her left, beckoning Allison forward. Of course it couldn’t be, not in this weather. Allison’s rational brain knew that the vision had just been a flurry of snowflakes in the glow of her headlights. Still for a second, she could have sworn she saw a dark-haired woman in a fringed leather dress. Allison wasn’t normally superstitious, but under these circumstances, she was going to take whatever omens she could get. With a ‘what the hell’ shrug, she pressed down on the accelerator and turned. The road was slick, rutted, and bumpy, but somehow, thank God, the little car kept going. Every couple minutes she caught another glimpse of the mysterious shape, and the snowy apparition still seemed to be drawing her further down the road. Since she didn’t have another alternative anyway, Allison kept driving. A few minutes later, she heaved a huge sigh of relief. Praying that she had stumbled onto hospitable, or at least tolerant, people, she carefully eased the car off the road and through the open gate. Snow obscured the sign that probably held the name of the ranch, but Allison couldn’t care less what the place was called. After a couple hundred yards on the winding drive, she parked alongside a sprawling house and whispered her thanks to whomever had been looking out for her. As she stepped out of the car, she was nearly blown right back in by the powerful wind. Hitching her full, trailing skirts up to her knees, she slammed the car door shut and trudged toward the building, cursing her high-heeled silk pumps with every step. Halfway to the porch she shrieked, her arms windmilling wildly as she fell, landing smack on her butt in a waist-high mound of snow. “Damn it!” She struggled to her feet. Then, still fighting the drifts with every step, she made it to the house, hauled herself up the stairs to the covered wooden porch, and pounded on the door. She must look like the abominable snow-woman, she thought. It would almost be funny if she wasn’t so cold. Her body was covered from feet to shoulders in snow, and her hair, which had once been a stylish up- do, now hung in icy, matted hanks alongside her cheeks. Ice crystals were forming in the cloud of her breath, and she couldn’t remember having been this cold in all her thirty-three years. Shivering violently, she hammered harder on the door. Why wasn’t anyone answering? Oh, God, what if nobody was home? What would she do? Could she manage to pick the lock? She’d hate to have to break a window, letting in the cold. The idea of breaking and entering horrified her, but it was better than freezing to death. She pounded again, leaning into it this time. When the door flew open she pitched forward, landing on a shiny wood floor on her hands and knees. Hard. *** CJ Hall stood stock-still with his mouth hanging open as he stared at the woman in a lacy white puddle at his feet. He’d been busy wrestling with his nephew’s diaper when he’d thought he heard someone at the door, but he’d dismissed the sound as an effect of the wind. Nobody was stupid enough to be out on a night like this! Finally, however, the repeated pounding convinced him otherwise, and he hurried down the stairs and across the living room, wrenching open the heavy oak door. "What the hell?” He automatically stuck out a hand to help the stranger to her feet. “Who the blazes are you and what are you doing here?” He reached around her with his free hand to slam the door shut against the howling wind. She was just a little thing. When she stood, the top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulders. Still, he had to admit she had pluck. Crossing her arms over her chest she glared up at him, shivering violently. “Al-Allison Kendricks,” she stammered defiantly. “I’m lost.” CJ ran an appraising eye over her petite form. She was covered in wet snow from her tangled brown hair to her teetering high-heeled shoes. White lace skirts poofed out from under a lightweight leather bomber jacket, then hung limply to his floor, where they were rapidly creating a puddle. “Somebody filming ‘Runaway Bride Part II’?” |
Praise for The Cowboy's Christmas Bride:
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