âTall? Silver hair? Attitude?â
Jake grinned. âYes.â
âWatch out,â Jerry warned. âThatâs Aurora Jones. She can emasculate you with one look. The woman makes my life miserable.â
âYouâre, uh, involved?â
âGod, no! There isnât a man in town who would take her on.â He looked around the room, half expecting Aurora would pop out from behind a flower-covered post and badger him about her building permit again. âWe have a professional relationship.â
âI thought she was nice,â his daughter said, glaring at him as if heâd just said Cinderella was a bitch.
âI suppose she can be,â he offered. âWhen she wants to.â
Lesâs grandfather leaned forward. âDid you see the grizzly bear inside the Dahl? Owen MacGregorâs grandfather shot that bear and had it mounted for the Dahl. There are some people around here who think a grizzly would be easier to get along with than Aurora Jones.â
Dear Reader,
Last summer I went to Willing. Really, I did. Although the town of Willing is a fictional place, itâs based on many small Montana towns Iâve visited over the years of road trips between north Idaho and New England. But in planning the Willing to Wed series, I needed a specific location for âmyâ town. Out came a map of Montana and there, in the center of Montana, was Winifred. Iâd never been there, but I knew it was going to be perfect.
So in June my husband and I were as excited to drive to Winifred as weâd been to fly to London years ago. Our visit coincided with the onset of the townâs 100th anniversary. Over a thousand people (in a town of 200) were expected to arrive for a weekend reunion and celebration.
Our impromptu stop in the only bar resulted in a warm welcome, town stories, introductions to one and all and an open invitation to return. Frank and John Carr could not have been more hospitable. I am now the proud owner of a Winifred T-shirt and I wear it proudly. Winifred, like Willing, had also faced its demise. But a former resident became the townâs benefactor and invested in businesses, the school and projects that would attract new residents. Winifred is a special place. Ask anyone who lives there!
Physically the town was much different from my invented Willing. But the people were just as special and kind and welcoming as those in Megâs café. I canât wait to go back.
I hope youâve enjoyed the Willing to Wed miniseries. Iâd love to hear from you!
Kristine
[email protected]www.KristineRolofson.com
KRISTINE ROLOFSONUSA TODAY bestselling author Kristine Rolofson has written more than forty books for Mills & Boon. She and her husband of many years call Rhode Island, Idaho and Texas home depending upon the time of year. When not writing, Kristine quilts, bakes peach pies, plays the fiddle and sings in a country blues band. She collects vintage cowboy boots and will not tell you how many are in her closet.
With thanks and love to Ellie, Connie, Ann and Neil, of the Hope Mountain Blues band.
CHAPTER ONE
AURORA VANDERGREN JONESTON Linden-March, otherwise known as Aurora Jones, picked up her buttercup-yellow Western bootsâspecial ordered from a boot maker in Austin and worth every dollarâand carefully placed them inside an oversize shopping bag, along with her purse and the small box that contained a wedding gift. Sheâd wear her water-resistant, mud-proof UGGs until she arrived at the ranch, and then the yellow clipped-toe, stacked-heel beauties would make their debut in the recently cleaned and decorated barn.
She was late. She hated being late. Especially today, when everyoneâeveryoneâwas gathering at the famous Triple M for the wedding of the year.
The wedding of the decade, actually.
Who knew when the last wedding had taken place in Willing, Montana, home to too many bachelors and too few eligible women?
Before my time, Aurora decided, grabbing her car keys off the polished wooden counter of her bar. Way before my time.
Willing was not known for weddings, but if the mayor had his way, that was going to change. Aurora and her bar, the historic Dahl, would be thriving in the center of the Romance Capital of Montana before summer began. And Aurora was going to be ready for the influx of tourists.
She shrugged on an ivory down vest and had one freshly manicured hand on the door, ready to push it open and step out onto the sidewalk, when the door was pulled open from the outside. Aurora caught herself from falling forward into the weak Montana sunshine.
âExcuse me,â came a deep male voice.
âWeâre closed,â she said, looking past a denim-covered chest as a truck honked on the street. She waved absently, assuming it was the annoying mayor honking his perpetual enthusiasm toward one and all. Sheâd deal with him unofficially this afternoon and officially tomorrow morning. She could hardly wait.