Marianne's Marriage Of Convenience
'I want you to marry me.'A wedding in Smoke River, Oregon…Marianne Collingwood has inherited a business, the perfect escape from her life of drudgery! There’s one condition: to claim the business she must be married! Her co-worker, handsome Lance Burnside will have to be the groom – this marriage of convenience will help them both! Only once it’s too late does she consider the question of the marriage bed they must share…
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“I want you to marry me.”
A wedding in Smoke River, Oregon...
Marianne Collingwood has inherited a business, the perfect escape from her life of drudgery. There’s one condition: to claim the business, she must be married! Her coworker, handsome Lance Burnside, will have to be the groom—this marriage of convenience will help them both. Only once it’s too late does she consider the question of the marriage bed they must share...
“Banning’s talent for crafting warm, delightful tales once again wins.”
—RT Book Reviews on Marianne’s Marriage of Convenience
“A sweet, heartwarming traditional western romance.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Hired Man
LYNNA BANNING combines her lifelong love of history and literature in a satisfying career as a writer. Born in Oregon, she graduated from Scripps College and embarked on a career as an editor and technical writer, and later as a high school English teacher. She enjoys hearing from her readers. You may write to her directly at PO Box 324, Felton, CA 95018, USA, email her at [email protected] or visit Lynna’s website at lynnabanning.net.
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ISBN: 978-1-474-07388-2
MARIANNE’S MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE
© 2018 The Woolston Family Trust
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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For my daughter-in-law, Yvonne Mandarino Woolston
Contents
Marianne Collingwood propped her wet mop on the back porch of the boardinghouse and staggered down the steps with the heavy bucket of dirty water. She’d been up since before dawn, cooking breakfast for the seven boarders, and she hadn’t yet eaten herself; there had been no time. She could hear her stomach growling. She was headachy, hot and sticky in the humid summer air and thoroughly miserable.
She stepped into the spotless kitchen and watched Lance Burnside drop his last armload of oak logs into the now overflowing wood box. He topped up the kindling supply, then halted and closed his eyes. “Man, something sure smells good!” he murmured.
“Close the door,” she ordered. “You’re letting in all the hot air!”
“Uh...isn’t it about time for breakfast?”
“No,” she said shortly.
He sent her a long look, closed the back door and tramped back down the steps into the yard where he took refuge in the shade of a leafy maple tree, drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes. Hell’s bells. In the four years Lance had worked at the boardinghouse, Marianne Collingwood had never once thanked him for anything. His momma had taught him to always say please and thank-you; he guessed Marianne’s momma hadn’t. Or maybe Marianne just didn’t like him.
