Inhaltsangabe
A week before Christmas, city girl Hope McKinnon finds herself snowbound with rugged rancher and all round do-gooder Blake Nelson. What is it about this handsome, generous man that has her blood boiling and her pulse racing?
Blake knows his ranch is the last place that Hope wants to be, but somehow her presence feels so right! Hope is the first woman guarded Blake has wanted to be around for a long time. Her visit may be temporary, but he has one more night to convince her to stay….
Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor
Since 2006, New York Times bestseller Donna Jones Alward has enchanted readers with stories of happy endings and homecomings that have won several awards and been translated into over a dozen languages. She’s worked as an administrative assistant, teaching assistant, in retail and as a stay-at-home-mom, but always knew her degree in English Literature would pay off, as she is now happy to be a full-time writer. Her new historical fiction tales blend her love of history with characters who step beyond their biggest fears to claim the lives they desire.Donna currently lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband and two cats. You can often find her near the water, either kayaking on the lake or walking the sandy beaches to refill her creative well.
Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
The cold air penetrated clear through Hope McKinnon's jacket as she stepped out of the rented car and looked up at the home base of the Bighorn Therapeutic Riding Facility. It was December in Alberta yet it felt like the arctic! It was a shock to her system after she'd reluctantly left the hot brilliance of the Sydney sun only hours before.
She huddled into her woolen coat and popped the trunk for her bag. The wheels of her suitcase squeaked and dragged on the snow covering the path to the wraparound porch of the big log home. Coming up the long lane, she'd thought it had a fairy-tale quality, like a romantic ski chalet nestled in the mountains. Twinkling fairy lights were intertwined through evergreen boughs on the railing, glowing softly in the waning light of late afternoon.
But that had been in the warm car, with the heater going full blast. Now she shivered. The house was rapidly losing its winter magic as she gave the case a tug over a ridge of packed-down snow. She heaved it up the stairs one at a time, growing more and more irritated until she plunked it down beside her leg and rang the doorbell.
Three times.
She huddled into her jacket as she waited.
By this time her legs were cold and her feet were beginning to go numb in the soft leather boots she wore. She looked around and saw a truck parked next to the barn. She was supposed to meet a man named Blake Nelson, the guy who ran the ranch. She'd been guilt-tripped by her grandmother into coming and taking pictures of his operation, and she wasn't all that pleased about it. She could think of a million other places she'd rather be in December than in the icy cold of Alberta.
But she was here, and she was freezing, so she left her suitcase by the door and made her way across the yard toward the barn. A light glowed from a window within, a warm beacon against the grayness of the afternoon shadows. It would be warm inside, wouldn't it? She quickened her step as she neared the door.
The next thing she knew she was slightly airborne as her boot hit a piece of ice camouflaged by a skiff of snow. The weightless sensation lasted only a second and was immediately followed by a bone-jarring, breath-stealing thump as she landed squarely on her rump.
"Ow!" she cried out as her tailbone struck frozen ground. She fought for a few moments as her emptied lungs struggled for air, and then gasped it in painfully, closing her eyes.
When she opened them she was looking at a pair of worn leather cowboy boots that disappeared into two very long, denim-clad legs. Humiliation burned up her neck and into her cheeks as she forgot the pain in her bottom. What a way to make a first impression!
"You must be Hope," said a warm, deep voice with just the barest hint of a drawl. "Let me give you a hand up."
The rich voice sent shivers down her spine and she struggled to keep her breath even. She looked up then, and couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. This Blake guy—assuming it was him—was stunning. Incredibly tall, and the form he cut was that of the quintessential cowboy, complete with sheepskin jacket and a dark brown cowboy hat to match. His breath made white puffs in the wintry air.
Her photographer's eye was already framing him as if she were behind the lens, capturing him like a great Western icon.
"Did you hit your head or something?" He still held out his hand and she realized she'd been staring at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world.
"Sorry," she said, holding up her hand and grasping his wrist. He gave a quick tug and she was on her feet again. She hid her flaming face by twisting and brushing the snow off her pants and the tails of her jacket. She didn't stand much hope of dignity now. She might as well make the best of it.
"You have to watch out for the odd bit of ice in the yard," he cautioned. "Those boots don't look like they have much tread. I hope you brought something heavier."
She tried to ignore the humiliation that seemed to burn her cheeks at his chastising tone, making her feel foolish and about five years old. She lifted her eyes and tilted her head to look up, studying his profile as he turned to inspect her heeled boots.
The looking up was a rarity. At five-foot-ten, and with a modest two-inch heel, she stood an even six feet. And she still had to look up at Blake Nelson. He had to be at least six-four, six-five. Most of the time she felt like an ungainly giant, but next to his strong build she felt positively feminine. Or she would, except she could still feel the bump on her butt, reminding her of her grand entrance. Perfect.
He turned his head slightly so he faced her squarely, and the part of his face which had been shadowed by his hat was now clearly visible. Her heart seemed to drop to her toes, and a small cry escaped her lips before she could stop it.
For the space of several heartbeats she was back in the hospital again, trying terribly hard to look at her best friend Julie in the face as the bandages came off. To smile when she felt like weeping; to tell Julie it wasn't that bad when in truth the raw shock and ugliness of her friend's injuries had made her sick to her stomach. The same quea-siness threatened now and she gulped in air, needing to steady herself. This cowboy wasn't so perfect, after all. A long scar ran from his right temple clear to his jaw—pink, ugly, and puckered.
"Are you sure you're okay? You've gone quite pale."
The words were polite but Hope was aware enough to realize how very cold they were. He knew exactly what had happened. She'd taken one look at the mess that was his right cheek and she'd been repulsed. What he didn't understand was why and she was too fragile right now to explain it. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of a stranger.
There wasn't a day went by that Hope didn't see Julie's smiling face in her mind and feel the hole that her death had left behind. Julie had been the most beautiful girl Hope had ever known—beautiful inside and out. It had been six months since her funeral, but Hope couldn't get the image of Julie's ravaged body out of her head. It had all been so unfair, especially since Julie had been the one person Hope had let herself get close to in all these years. Julie had understood about Hope's family, about her dysfunction and frustration and the futility of hoping that someday it would all work out.
And then Julie, like everyone else in Hope's life, had abandoned her. Not by choice. Hope knew that. But when she was alone in the apartment they'd shared, when there was no one to text during a slow workday, or catch a drink with on an outdoor patio, it felt like the same thing.
Hope fought for control and shut the feelings down before they overwhelmed her completely. She had to keep focus.
"I'm Hope," she announced, trying desperately to sound normal. It shouldn't matter that he'd been injured and left disfigured. Except that it really did. It smashed into the concrete wall she'd put around her feelings with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, reminding her of everything she'd rather forget.
"Blake," he replied, but the coolness remained in his tone. "And I'm guessing you're pretty cold right about now. Let's get you up to the house."
As they walked back to the house she was constantly aware of his hand by her elbow, waiting to catch her if she slipped again. It was courteous, considering their shaky start, but unsettling, too. He opened the door—unlocked, making her feel foolish once again—and held it for her to enter before grabbing her suitcase as...
„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Weitere beliebte Ausgaben desselben Titels
Suchergebnisse für Sleigh Ride with the Rancher (Holiday Miracles, 2,...
Beispielbild für diese ISBN
Sleigh Ride with the Rancher
Anbieter: World of Books (was SecondSale), Montgomery, IL, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Zustand: Very Good. Item in very good condition! Textbooks may not include supplemental items i.e. CDs, access codes etc. Artikel-Nr. 00088900731
Gebraucht kaufen
EUR 5,52
Versand gratis
Versand innerhalb von USA
Versand innerhalb von USA
Anzahl: 2 verfügbar
Beispielbild für diese ISBN
Sleigh Ride with the Rancher (Holiday Miracles, 2)
Anbieter: ThriftBooks-Atlanta, AUSTELL, GA, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Unknown. Zustand: Very Good. No Jacket. May have limited writing in cover pages. Pages are unmarked. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less. Artikel-Nr. G0373178433I4N00
Gebraucht kaufen
EUR 6,90
Versand gratis
Versand innerhalb von USA
Versand innerhalb von USA
Anzahl: 1 verfügbar