No resisting this cowboy!
Brianna Wright has ventured to the Bell River Ranch to make peace with her sister. With enough time here in Colorado, Bree might accomplish that goal and forget the mess of her business back in Boston. Of course, none of that will happen if she lets herself get distracted by a certain gorgeous and charming cowboyâGrayson Harper. Really, resisting a guy as carefree as he is should be easy for someone as responsible as Bree.
But itâs clear Gray has his sights set on her, and his determination is stronger than Bree thought! As they work together on the ranch, she realizes thereâs more to Gray than his footloose facade suggests. If thatâs true, he just might win her over!
She was a puzzle he wanted to solve.
Gray sensed layers and textures in Breeâs personality that went far beyond âprissyâ or âicyâ or âdullââ¦any of the unflattering names sheâd been labelled with. Undercurrents both deep and powerfulâand touchingly human.
Well, okay, then, maybe he knew Bree better than he had realized. They belonged to that sorry clubâthe children who had survived the unsurvivable, and didnât really know why. Or where to go from there.
A large bird, maybe an eagle, landed somewhere high in the pines over their heads, causing the sunlight to shift as the branches swayed. For an instant, the light seemed to catch on two crystal sparkles at the outer edges of Breeâs cool blue eyes.
Tears? Gray frowned. Was the ice princess fighting back tears?
She blinked then, and the illusion disappeared. But he was left with a sudden, inexplicable hunger to know her better, to find out more about her.
A lot more.
Andâ¦just his luck. He had only thirty days to do it.
Dear Reader,
Iâm a homebody. I prove all the clichés. Home really is where my heart lives. I bloom where Iâm planted, and I like my roots deep and permanent. However humble my âcastleâ might be, thereâs no place like it.
I love reading books that feature fascinating housesâas mysterious as Manderley or as simple as the Little House on the Prairie. I also tend to write about characters struggling to find, or to keep, or to reclaim the place in this world that makes them feel whole.
Brianna Wright is, perhaps, the most dislocated heroine Iâve ever written. When her father killed her mother sixteen years ago, she and her sisters were banished from Bell River, the beautiful family ranch. When we meet her, the patchwork life sheâs cobbled together in exile has just ripped to pieces. She realizes the one place she wants to go isâ¦
Home. But is there anything left in Silverdell, Colorado, for her?
Surely the answer canât be Grayson Harper III, the charming former heir to Silverdellâs marble quarry millions. Disinherited, cynical and determined to avoid commitment, Gray takes a menial job at Bell River. Heâs made it clear heâs staying only a few weeks, just long enough to win his bet and get reinstated in his grandfatherâs will.
Just long enough to break Breeâs already-wounded heart. Or, perhaps, to heal his own.
I hope youâll enjoy sharing their journey back to that powerful, magical, sometimes dangerous place we call home. And I hope that you, too, find the comfort and love that come with home, sweet home.
Warmly,
Kathleen OâBrien
PSâPlease visit me on the web at www.KathleenOBrien.com. Come by and say hi on Facebook or Twitter!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kathleen OâBrien was a feature writer and TV critic before marrying a fellow journalist. Motherhood, which followed soon after, was so marvelous she turned to writing novels, which could be done at home. She doesnât really believe in astrology, but she canât deny that she fits the Cancer profile wellâat least in the âhome and family firstâ department. As the poets say, no man is an islandâeven if we sometimes think it might be easier that way!
To my editor, Wanda Ottewell, with thanks.
Your insight and your understanding mean so much to the storiesâand to me.
CHAPTER ONE
BRIANNA WRIGHT PULLED up to the Townsendsâ elegant Boston Back Bay mansion under a starry black sky, handed her car over to the valet with a forced smile and rushed up the stairs breathlessly. Darn it, she was late. Really late. Ten oâclock. No, almost elevenâthank you so much, gridlocked airport traffic!
Now sheâd missed three hours of her own partyâwell, the party her company, Breelieâs, had produced, anyhowâand Townsendâs fiftieth birthday bash was already in full swing. Music and laughter poured through the open, brilliantly lit windows.
Too much laughter, perhaps, so early? She frowned. The open bar must be getting a workout.
Oh, well. Townsend was a tire magnate, and his millions could cover the liquor tab no matter how high it went. At least it sounded as if the guests were having fun.