|
|
|
Harlequin American
ISBN: 978-0373752577
April, 2009
Read It!
Buy!
|
A Cowboy's Promise
Her horse-boarding business may have gone belly-up, but Amy Olsen isn't a quitter. Even when handsome former
rodeo rider Matt Cartwright shows up with three mares in tow, claiming he's owed a lot of money. Then he makes
her an offer she can't refuse...
Matt has come to Amy's Idaho farm to collect a debt and be on his way. But his horse-breeding plans are taking
a backseat to helping out the widow and her two young daughters. Matt's never been able to resist a woman in
distress, especially one who's suddenly making him yearn for hearth and home.
All he came with was a promise and a dream. And when he starts falling for the trio of spirited females, darned
if this roving cowboy doesn't plan to make good on both!
|
Dear Ms. Thomas: This is the second novel of yours I’ve read and I’m just as, if not more, impressed.
Realistic setting, believable characters, conflict that is centered on the hero and heroine and, I
can’t believe I’m saying this, two young children I adored. I think I need to go take my temperature
after writing that last bit.
Amy Olson’s back is to the wall when Matt Cartwright drives into her life. Appearing out of the blue
one morning, with a stock trailer behind his fancy fig, she can’t imagine why he’s at her ranch.
Unless he’s another person her dead husband owed money to. But if so, why has he brought three
mares with him?
No one has wanted to board horses with her since her husband’s last purchase, the cutting horse with
the impressive pedigree, went loco and kicked Ben in the chest. With no income, no job, a mortgage on
the ranch, two young daughters and still saddled with Ben’s remaining gambling debts, her only hope
is to get some training in order to obtain a job. What she’s going to do with Son of Sunshine, she
has no idea. And now here’s a good looking cowboy showing up for goodness knows why.
Matt Cartwright quickly adds up the clues which equal a woman in need. But though he sympathizes with
the shocking news that her husband is dead, he’s not about to let her out of the debt Ben owes him.
$30,000 or stud services for his three mares from the stallion still in her barn. But when Amy tells
him that the stallion caused Ben’s death, Matt knows that the breeding isn’t going to be as quick,
or easy, as he’d hoped.
With no way to pay the debt, Amy grudgingly allows Matt to stay and work with the horse, trying to
determine if SOS is a killer or just got spooked. In the meantime, she’s not above a little push
and shove to get Matt to help look after her girls while she takes classes.
Against all hope, Amy watches as Matt works with SOS, bringing the stallion around and getting him
to the point where perhaps she can sell the horse and pay off most of her debts. He’s a hardworking
man, unlike the gambler she married or the dreamer her mother fell for. And he’s willing to lie
about liking her cooking.
To his surprise, Matt discovers he’s good with kids. Well, he more or less has to learn when he’s
roped into being a baby-sitter while Amy attends classes. And it’s these scenes which delighted me.
Nothing feels hokey or forced. Matt still has moments when Lily and Rose ’spin his end around.’
Times when he’s not quite sure how to deal with these two pint sized females but the trip
watching him do it is funny and touching. And no kiddie lisping! Oh, thank you for that.
So, mark this day down as one for the ages. Jayne adores two toddlers in a romance novel. Maybe
I’m being sucked into Harlequin’s baby centered world at long last? Hmmmm. Nah, I think it’s
just Rose and Lily who charmed me in this charming story.
~ Jayne
www.dearauthor.com
Marin comes up with some really great twists in this book to liven things up and keep you on your reading toes.
It’s not a comedy, but I still had a good laugh when Matt punches. . . well, I’ll leave that for you to find out.
Marin’s way with words is surpassed only by her imagination. She can think of amazing things to make happen in
a story, and her use of the language makes them all very believable, and fit right in to the story.
~ Donna B
http://www.pinkheartsocietyreviews.blogspot.com/
Matt is a dream. Handsome, sweet, thoughtful... he's got a bit of pride that puts a few glitches in his plans
now and then, but overall he's one hundred percent hero material. Amy, despite all her intentions otherwise,
can't help but be charmed by the man. This reader couldn't help it either.
In fact, this book had some of the best created and three-dimensional characters I've read in quite some time.
I thoroughly enjoyed the interactions between all the cast of this book, including the quirky secondary folk
who trotted through now and then. Ms. Thomas is one of my favorite authors to read because she has unusual but
believable characters in her stories and this book was no exception.
~ Poppy
http://www.longandshortreviews.com/
A Cowboy guarding his heart and a single mother who has seen hard times comes together in Marin Thomas'
sweetly romantic story. Thomas' characters are real, Amy's daughters are charming and the story is neatly
plotted.
~ 4 Stars
RT BookReviews
|
Chapter One
"He's still out there, Mama," Amy Olson's seven-year-old daughter, Rose, announced from her perch on the chair in front of the kitchen window.
Ten minutes ago, a shiny black 4x4 extended cab pickup towing a luxury horse trailer large enough to transport six animals comfortably pulled up the gravel drive. Amy hadn't caught the license plate but she doubted the driver was from Pebble Creek--no one in this area made enough money raising horses to purchase such a spiffy rig. But unlike her neighbors in the small eastern Idaho Valley, Amy was barely hanging on to her land much less making ends meet.
Positive she was viewing a mirage Amy tugged her blouse loose from the waistband of her jeans and rubbed the hem of the cotton material against the window pane in front of her daughter's nose. The shirt came away smudged with dust. When was the last time she'd cleaned let alone washed windows? She glanced at the wall calendar. Saturday May 17--she'd tidied the house right before Christmas five months ago.
The lone cowboy sat inside his truck yakking on a cell phone. He glanced toward the house once or twice, but mostly he stared out the windshield, grinning and gesturing with his arms. Then his head fell back and his shoulders shook. Whoever was on the other end of the call sure tickled his funny bone. Go figure. Amy didn't find the cowboy or his fancy rig amusing.
As a matter of fact she'd lost her sense of humor--what there had been of it anyway--when the owner of her last boarded horse removed the animal from her farm a week ago, drying up her sole source of income.
Who is he and what business does he have with the Broken Wheel?
"Is he lost, Mama?"
Lord I hope so. She wasn't in the mood for a visit from one of her husband's creditors.
Since when do collection agencies send their henchmen out in diesel pickups towing horse trailers?
The truck door opened and Amy held her breath. A Stetson emerged. Then a pair of broad shoulders. She estimated his height to be around one or two inches over six feet. He moved around the hood and her first head-to-toe glance triggered a mini heart-attack.
Amy had a weakness for cowboys.
He paused mid-stride and her ticker resumed beating--jackhammering her chest walls. His head swiveled toward the barn, revealing a strong jaw and a wide mouth, which wasn't smiling now. After a moment, he un-paused and swaggered--that's how most cowboys, who believed they were God's gift to women, walked. He tackled the porch steps two at a time and instead of ringing the bell he pounded.
"Go upstairs and check on Lily," she ordered her daughter. "But don't wake her if she's napping. And stay in the room until I call for you."
Rose obeyed, grabbing the box of Cheerios off the kitchen table--her sister's favorite food--before leaving the kitchen. Amy unconsciously brushed at her bangs. When she caught her reflection in the window, she grimaced. Do you really care what the man thinks of you?
No, she did not. She'd transferred handsome cowboys to her been-there-done-that list several years ago.
When she opened the door, cool blue eyes pinned her. Mesmerized, she gaped, uncaring if the man considered her behavior rude. A split-second fantasy flashed through her mind--she and the cowboy lying in a field of clover beneath a cornflower-colored sky--which slowed her thundering pulse to a sluggish thump thumpity thump.
"Ma'am."
The deep voice abruptly ended the dream. "May I help you?" she squeaked.
He removed his hat.
She wished he hadn't.
Strands of dark hair, the color of the dirt in the compost pile behind the barn, lay every-which-way across his brow and over the tips of his ears, lending him a shaggy beach-bum appeal. She easily pictured the cowboy in Hawaiian-flowered swim trunks surfing an ocean wave. Then he smiled--the curve of his lips lightening the blue hue of his eyes.
Good Lord. He was a heartbreaker.
Soulstopper.
Womandropper.
His gaze swept her from head to toe, its indifference almost insulting. Amy wasn't a looker--at least for the past several months she hadn't been one. Each morning the bathroom mirror reminded her that she had an inch of dark roots showing. But money was tight and she didn’t dare waste a penny on a cut and color. Besides, a trip to the hair salon wouldn’t erase the worry lines that had taken up residence across her forehead the past few months.
"Matt Cartwright." He offered his hand.
The four fingers and opposing thumb inches from her chest were marked by thick calluses and a scar that bisected his palm from wrist to forefinger--a bad rope burn, she suspected. He shifted, the movement sending shards of afternoon sunlight ricocheting off the silver belt buckle at his waist. According to the inscription--Dodge National Circuit Finals Rodeo--the man was an authentic rodeo cowboy. Figures. Rodeo cowboys were useless. She ought to know--she'd married one.
Steeling herself, she clasped his hand, ignoring the jolt that scurried up her arm and spread through her chest. Holy smokes her breasts were tingling. When was the last time that had happened?
"I've got business with Ben Olson."
He hadn't heard? Amy's attention shifted to the horse trailer. "Ben's not here."
"Any idea when he'll be back?"
"Not soon." That was for sure.
Mr. Cartwright rubbed his chin, dragging his fingers across the emerging five-o'clock shadow, the scratchy noise too intimate a sound between them for having just met. "I dialed his cell phone numerous times, but he never answered. Then a few weeks ago the number was no longer in use."
That's because Amy hadn't been able to pay the wireless phone bill and the company had cancelled her service. "Maybe I can help," she offered.
Brow furrowed, he shifted his weight from one boot to the other. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Amy Olson. Ben's wife." His eyes rounded--evidently he hadn't been aware that Ben had married. "Would you like to leave a message for my husband?" she asked, hoping to buy a few weeks before he figured out the truth.
"Actually, I'd like to leave three of my mares with him."
"Excuse me?"
Dark eyebrows curved inward over his nose--a nose that had been broken at least once according to the bump along its bridge and the slightly crooked angle at which the appendage rested on his face. "Did your husband happen to mention a business agreement he made with me?"
Damn her pie-in-the-sky, dreaming, scheming husband. She pushed the words past her lips. "He did not."
The cowboy rocked on his boot heels, clearly agitated by the lack of progress in their conversation. "Ben and I met in Pocatello this past December."
Not surprising. Her husband had chased the rodeo dream since before they'd married. If Ben wasn't competing, he was in the stands cheering. But he'd never been good enough to win a buckle like this cowboy. A sliver of dread crawled up Amy's spine. She hoped to heaven that the deal her husband had struck with this man had nothing to do with the beast in the barn. "I'm listening."
"On the eve of the National Finals Rodeo a group of cowboys organized a poker game and--"
"The sort version. I have chores to do." Not true. Few tasks remained on the farm since her horse-boarding business hadgone belly up. Regardless, she wanted this cowboy gone--yesterday.
"The short version, Mrs. Olson, is that your husband lost to me at poker and I'm here to collect on his debt."
Blast it, Ben. Her husband had no business playing cards. He couldn’t keep a straight face if his life depended on it. As a matter of fact he couldn't walk straight, sleep straight, sit straight or talk straight. He'd been the most wishy-washy man she'd ever met. "How much does Ben owe you?"
"Thirty-thousand."
A high-pitched buzz whistled between her ears. She opened her mouth but only air rushed out.
"Since your husband wasn't able to procure the funds we struck a bargain."
"Bargain?" she wheezed.
"Free stud service in lieu of the money he owes me."
That surely wasn't going to happen. Besides… "Most serious horse breeders prefer artificial insemination."
His devilishly wicked grin revealed a perfect set of pearly whites. "Call me old fashioned, but I believe a lady who's been properly courted behaves better in the bedroom err… stall, I mean."
If she squeezed the doorknob any tighter, she'd bust the hardware. "I'm sorry about the gambling debt, but you can't leave your horses here." She attempted to slam the door in his face, but a size thirteen roper blocked the way. He held out a piece of paper.
No mistaking Ben' handwriting. She scanned the contents. The message said exactly what Mr. Cartwright claimed--free stud service for three mares valued at thirty thousand dollars--except her husband was to have delivered Son of Sunshine over a month ago to the Lazy River Ranch outside Tulsa, Oklahoma. "Like I said…can't help you." When he made no move to take the note, she stuffed it into his shirt pocket, ignoring the hard wall of flesh that her knuckles nudged.
"Mrs. Olson."
Oh, boy. His lips hadn’t moved when he'd spoken.
"I'm not leaving until I speak with Ben."
The resentment and frustration that had been damned up all these months burst free, sending a flood of anger rushing through her. "I'm afraid you'll have yourself quite a long wait."
His eyes narrowed, leaving only a slice of blue visible. "And why's that?"
"Because Ben's dead."
The cowboy's mouth dropped, then swung crooked like a door on one hinge. "Dead...dead?"
Was there any other kind? "Dead as in buried over yonder." She pointed to a grassy knoll a hundred yards beyond the barn--the family burial ground. Hard to miss her great-grandparents' headstone standing ten feet high. She motioned to the horse trailer. "I apologize for any inconvenience Ben may have caused you. Good day, Mr. Cartwright."
This time the door encountered no roadblock and closed with a...bang!
|
|
|