Spotlight & Giveaway: The Rancher’s Proposal by Paula Altenburg

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Paula Altenburg to HJ!

Hi Paula and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Rancher’s Proposal!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

SUMMARIZE!!! Oh no… I’ll do my best. “Posey Davies is the poor little rich girl who’s never had a family and desperately wants one, but there are some things money can’t buy. Zack McGregor is the rancher who knows how much family is worth because he’s lost so much of his. He shows Posey how much love can accomplish when it’s freely given.”
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

“The house had good bones.
“Posey Davies stood in the middle of the low-ceilinged, oak-beamed living room, with its tall, narrow windows that overlooked the Tongue River, and imagined the built-in shelves filled with books. She had no idea what kind of furniture would best suit the Victorian home, but she could hardly wait to find out.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Grand, Montana is loosely based on Miles City, Montana. (Very loosely, because details. Who needs them?)
• Zack’s song is “Just Breathe” by Pearl Jam. Now I want to listen to it again. Posey’s song is “Roar” by Katy Perry.
• Zack’s weak stomach may be legendary (and a family joke) in the McGregor clan, but it’s hard to keep your hero manly when he’s tossing his cookies in front of the heroine.

Please tell us a little about the characters in your book. As you wrote your protagonist was there anything about them that surprised you?

I didn’t expect to like Posey as much as I did. She was coming from a place I really have no experience with personally. But my stories are always all about the characters, and she was so much sweeter than I planned and had a huge amount of inner strength. When I look at my friends who share parts of her personality, that’s the quality they all have in common—the nicer and more empathetic they are, the stronger their inner core seems to be. Posey is tough and resilient, and I admire that.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would you use for the audition of the main characters and why?

Definitely their first porch scene. Posey likes to sit on her porch and watch Montana’s night sky. It’s huge and full of possibilities, and different from the sky over Boston. Zack likes to sit on her porch and watch her. He sees all of the possibilities in Posey.

“Do you trust me?”
Did she?
“No.” She didn’t dare.
“Of course you don’t. Why should you? Trust has to be earned.” His arm cradled her shoulders. She couldn’t say how it got there. He pushed with both feet. On the upward swing, he used his long legs to brace them so they faced the vast, starry sky. “Did you know that the Big Dipper isn’t an actual constellation, it’s an asterism? It’s a subsystem of Ursa Major. Seafarers have used it as a navigational aid for centuries. And see that hazy band?” He sketched its path through the sky with his finger. “That’s the Milky Way. It’s made up of more than one hundred billion stars.”
The shift in the conversation left her adrift, unsure of her direction. Then, an anchor dropped. The painful knot strung tight inside her slowly unraveled. The light of the moon hacked at the edges of the abyss where she’d been wandering, lost, finally freeing her from the grasp of its shadows.
He understood.
She pointed toward the horizon, allowing herself to become caught up in the game. “What’s that bright light over there?”
Zack squinted. His arm tightened around her shoulders. He’d gotten impossibly close. His handsome face bent closer to hers as he found the object she’d singled out. Her heart sprang to life. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to?
How would she respond if he did?
“Oh, man. You suck at stargazing,” he said. “Hundreds of billions to choose from, and yet, you pick a satellite.”
She had to smile. No false flattery there. “Poor choices are a talent of mine.”
The rise and fall of his chest was steady against her shoulder. “They don’t have to be. All you need to do is aim higher and a look a little deeper. Don’t settle on the first bright light you see.”

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Hope. Too many people get caught up in situations that really, are beyond their control. Zack lost his family in a tragic accident and he’s trying to hold the remaining pieces together. Posey placed her trust in the wrong person because she was so desperate for love. Neither of them had any control. And yet, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for them both.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Right at the moment I’m taking a bit of a break, but I have another western in my file folder. We’ll see what comes out of that.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Ebook of The Rancher’s Proposal and Tule swag

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Excerpt from The Rancher’s Proposal:

Breakfast was over.
Luke had returned to the milking parlor to check on one of the robots. Jake was driving the boys to school for their first day. Even though the boys had only been here a week, and school was almost out for the summer, they’d all agreed they should meet their new classmates in the hopes it might ease their transition in the fall.
This had seemed like a good time for Zack to get Lydia outdoors for some fresh air.
The stroller, however, appeared to be an issue for her. He spun the toddler first one way, then the other, trying to figure out how to slide her legs into the slots on the stroller when she kept arching her back and bending her knees. The sun peeked above the roof of the barn, laughing at him and his efforts.
Jake’s truck crossed the bridge that spanned the Tongue River, heading for Grand, and Zack crammed back his worry. He’d suggested if things didn’t work out they could always homeschool. Luke was a professor.
Luke, however, had a PhD in computer science. Somehow, Zack didn’t see that translating well to teaching five-year-old Finn how to read.
And as if they could homeschool kids while running the ranch.
Jake and their dad had invested heavily in modern technology. The robotic milking system had set them back a million dollars. An anaerobic digestion biomass power plant had cost another half million. Jake hadn’t expected to assume all of that debt alone. Their dad had been a young sixty, healthy and active. To the family, he’d seemed immortal. Insurance would cover a portion, but not enough.
Zack, an accountant, had already gone through their mother’s bookkeeping, and while the picture he’d gotten was far from hopeless, it was going to be an uphill battle for Jake. They were meeting with the lawyer that afternoon to find out how bad it really was.
In the meantime, he needed to get out of the house. He was beginning to understand how stay-at-home moms felt. And what house arrest must be like.
“Work with me, Lyds.”
As if sensing his desperation, Lydia finally gave in. She straightened her chubby legs and he threaded her tiny, sandal-clad toes through the proper holes. With a few adjustments to the straps that kept her secure, they were off.
He didn’t know any children’s tunes so he launched into an old Irish drinking song. It was early in the morning. He had no idea what to do with a drunken sailor either, and best of all, the lyrics were far more age-appropriate than a lot of what played on the radio these days. He’d never thought too much about gangsta rap until he’d heard the words coming out of his five-year-old nephew’s mouth. Yikes.
He was turning into a grandpa.
He maneuvered the stroller down the driveway to the road. To the right, the road followed the Tongue to a public dam a few miles upriver. Instead he turned left, toward the Yellowstone River that bordered Grand, and the bridge crossing the Tongue.
He had an ulterior motive for taking Lyds out for a walk this morning. It seemed the old McKinley property had a new owner, or so he’d been told. Patricia Davies. A young, single mother with a little girl about Lydia’s age.
Shopping for groceries in Grand was a great way to keep up on the gossip and it was a nice change of pace to have the topic be about someone other than the McGregors. What was interesting, however, was how little anyone knew about the mysterious Patricia, other than that she kept to herself. Mostly, people wanted to know if he’d met her.
He hadn’t. Not yet.
But that was about to change.
She was coming toward him, on the opposite side of the road, pushing a stroller of her own. Zack had hoped the two little girls would hit it off and this was the perfect chance for them to meet.
The neighbor slowed when she saw him, almost as if considering turning back, then averted her eyes and picked up the pace, apparently planning to outrun him and reach her house first. Wasn’t that curious?
If she liked her privacy, she wouldn’t last long in Grand. And if she was in some sort of witness protection program, she was doomed.
He’d never been able to resist a challenge. If they turned this into a real competition, the odds favored him. His legs were longer. Plus, women liked him. He was especially popular with the over-sixty set.
He checked her out as they approached each other, because why not? He was a guy. She was so blond—her long ponytail almost white—that the color had to be fake. She was also slender and leggy, with the underfed, anemic appearance of a supermodel, although she was a shade under the requisite height. She wore a sleeveless, multicolored top with a triangular, tunic hem, a pair of skinny, formfitting jeans, and flip-flops. She was pretty, at least from what Zack could discern, but in an elfin, waifish sort of way.
In truth, however, he was more interested in her tiny companion.
The tot in the stroller sported a pale blue ribbon around her head in an ill-fated attempt to mask the fact she was pretty much bald. Her wispy hair—what little she owned—was as dark as her mother’s was fair. Her eyes, however, were what really caught Zack’s attention. They were long-lashed and big, and a dark, almost purple, shade of blue. Zack loved watching old movies. This was how Elizabeth Taylor must have looked as a child.
When she caught sight of Lydia in a second stroller barreling toward her, she began bouncing up and down in her seat.
Her excitement appeared to be contagious. Lydia, usually more reserved, leaned forward, urging her uncle on. Zack wondered when his niece had last seen another little girl. They’d kept her close to the ranch the past week, not wanting a parade of their mother’s well-intentioned friends schooling Jake on how things should be done until she’d acclimated. Lydia—and her brothers—needed to settle into how Jake planned to carry on.
“Hey, new neighbor,” Zack hailed the woman. He jogged across the road, cutting her off before she could turn into her driveway.
She had no choice but to stop. Her face, however, didn’t reflect one iota of her daughter’s enthusiasm. Zack felt the chill despite the heat of the sun.
Her eyes were steel gray. She had the potential to be stunningly beautiful or exceedingly plain. For whatever reason, she’d settled on invisible. The overall impression he got was of a blank canvas. He caught her gaze and held it, flashing the friendly smile that never failed to make women take notice. His dad had always teased him that he knew how to charm women, horses, and snakes.
He extended an arm over the top of the stroller. “Zack McGregor.”
She took his hand. Her fingers were slender and fragile. The breeze caught a loose strand of gossamer hair. The smile she gifted him with was polite. Also wary. She had a soft, gentle voice, yet her clear words carried well.
“Posey Davies. I was so sorry to hear about your parents. I met your mother the day I got the keys for the house. She was lovely.”
“Thank you,” he said, then changed the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his mother. He might get all teary-eyed and that wasn’t part of the plan. “I thought your name was Patricia.”
“It is. No one calls me that, though.”
She’d managed to keep an amazingly low profile if no one in Grand had picked up on that tidbit of information.
“And who’s this little cutie?” Zack hunkered down between the two strollers where the girls, both suddenly shy, were eyeballing each other.
“This is Trixie,” Posey said.
The tot stared at Zack, checking him out much the same way he’d checked out her mother, trying to make up her mind as to what her reaction to him should be. He glanced up at Posey. “Let me guess—Patricia Junior?”
Posey’s grudging smile was more genuine this time. “It was my mother’s name.”
He caught the past tense. It snagged at his heart. His own mother’s loss was still fresh, and he could admit it—as the youngest in the family, he’d been a mama’s boy. Proud of it, too. She’d been the first person he called for every significant high or low point in his life. They’d had many late-night phone conversations while he was in college. He didn’t know how he’d manage without her.
He shook it off. He was trying to make Lydia a new friend and getting all teary-eyed wouldn’t help his cause. The little girl’s mother was already spooked.
“Hey, Trixie. Nice to meet you. This is Lydia. Lyds, can you say hi?”
“Mum-mum-mum,” Lydia said.
Trixie, definitely owning the more outgoing personality of the two little girls, lit up like the sun. “Bye,” she replied, adding a sage little nod of her head.
Posey leaped in to interpret. “One ‘bye’ means hello. Two is ‘good-bye.’”
Zack remained crouched between the two strollers. He was a big man and he’d look less threatening to the ladies if he made himself small. He grinned up at Posey. “Thanks. I’m not familiar with toddler-ese and I’ve been struggling with the subtleties of the language. Unfortunately, I have no idea what ‘mum-mum-mum’ means so I can’t help you there.”
Posey didn’t exactly relax, but she did look a little less tense. “The context suggests she’s likely reserving her opinion until she’s had more time to study the situation.”
“Oh, no.” He eyed his niece with mock horror. “Don’t tell me you and Mac are both going to turn out like your uncle Jake.”
A car crossed the bridge, turning left to head in their direction. He straightened, returning to an upright position. Posey was taller than he’d thought, maybe five feet seven or eight. “How about if we take this tea party off the main road so we don’t create a traffic hazard? Rubberneckers,” he explained, in case she couldn’t figure that out.
Posey donned the same expression she might wear if trying to find a polite way to extricate herself from a tired conversation at some dull cocktail party, but couldn’t come up with an excuse.
“Oh. Of course.” She tipped Trixie’s stroller onto its two back wheels and deftly spun it around.
Zack followed her as far as the walkway that crossed the lawn to her front door, where she stopped, suggesting he wasn’t going to get an invitation inside for coffee, which he understood. Posey gave off a big city, beware-of-strangers vibe. No matter how charming he was, or how cute Lyddie could be, at the end of the day, she and Trixie were two women living alone. He’d love to find out what happened to Trixie’s father, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ask.
Not when he was partway toward accomplishing his mission.
“You should bring Trixie over to play with Lydia, sometime,” he suggested, pretending the thought had only just occurred to him.
“I’ll do that.” Her polite tone suggested the opposite.
She was proving a tough nut to crack, but Zack wasn’t conceding defeat. This was for Lydia’s benefit, and honestly, if Posey was the total recluse she gave every indication of being, then a playdate wouldn’t hurt Trixie, either. This was how crazy cat ladies began.
“I’m taking the kids skydiving this weekend,” he continued, testing her sense of humor and hopefully put her at ease. “Maybe Trixie would like to join us.”
Startled gray eyes flew open wide. Horror swirled in their depths. Her hands gripped the stroller handle. If she suddenly threw her body over Trixie’s to protect her, it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she began. “I—” Then, she figured out he was teasing. Tiny flags of color unfurled on her cheeks. “I mean, we’ve already made motocross plans. Trixie’s ranked first in her age division.”
She was quick-thinking. There was hope for her yet.
“I’ll be honest,” Zack said. “It’s hard to get work done around the ranch with a two-year-old underfoot, and I’m sure you’d like to get out by yourself every once in a while. I thought we could swap babysitting.”
“I’d be happy to keep Lydia for you,” Posey said, her quiet tone cool once again.
He didn’t need her to translate her meaning for him. He got it, loud and clear, and he let it sink in. I’m not leaving my daughter with a strange man.
When he’d put this plan together, it had seemed like such a practical deal. A win-win for them both. Besides, Mac, Finn, and Lydia already loved him. He was the fun uncle, the one who organized games. He baked the treats. When Lyddie needed someone to hold her, he was her go-to.
He was also a dope. He hadn’t stopped to consider that Posey might not be comfortable having a man—a houseful of men, to be exact—looking after her daughter.
Not until she got to know them, of course.
She couldn’t get to know them if he walked away without a firm playdate commitment from her, and he wasn’t above a little emotional manipulation. The trick was in getting the tone right. Gosh, I wouldn’t bother you if I wasn’t so desperate.
“We’ve got a meeting with the ranch lawyer this afternoon,” he said, suitably reluctant. “To settle the estate. We were planning to take Lydia with us, but if you wouldn’t mind…”

“I don’t mind at all,” Posey said.
She didn’t. She’d learned to be suspicious, however, and there was no doubt in her mind that Zack McGregor was playing her. She simply wasn’t sure why.
It was possible all he wanted was a playmate for Lydia, who was beyond cute. Posey had never seen eyes such a bright shade of green. And her hair… The blond fluff stuck straight up. Her head looked like a dandelion gone to seed.
But Posey didn’t trust what she saw on the surface with men, and this one pushed every alarm button she owned. Why on earth would he leave a baby with a complete stranger? What could he possibly hope to gain?
Eleanor had hinted the McGregor brothers were clueless when it came to children. Maybe she was right.
He was as handsome as she’d overheard the local women claim him to be, too. Dark red hair leaned closer to brown. Blue eyes gleamed with charm. He was a good six inches taller than she was, and at a guess, a year or two younger. His shoulders were broad. The way his denim shirt stretched across his chest hinted at a great deal of muscle. Except for the height, he looked a lot like his mother.
Posey had been so sad to learn of Mary McGregor’s death. Not only was she a lovely woman, she’d been so welcoming and warm that Posey had looked forward to living next door to her. She would have had no qualms at all about leaving Trixie with Mary for a few hours while she went for groceries and ran errands.
Even though Zack was Mary’s son, however, and she had no reason to believe he wasn’t as kind as his mother, Posey couldn’t trust him in quite the same way. She’d believed Trevor incapable of harming his own daughter and he’d proved her very wrong. She wouldn’t gamble with Trixie again.
Lydia, however, did seem content in her uncle’s company. Posey’s heart melted. She tried to imagine Trixie without her, but couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. If anything happened to her, all Trixie would have left was her father—and Posey, who’d lost her own mother at a young age, knew how that would play out.
She didn’t know how to prevent it. Uncle Bart, who’d told her not to marry Trevor in the first place, had been no help whatsoever, other than to recommend she put Trixie’s inheritance into a trust fund managed by someone willing to fight Trevor for control of it. The money was all he really wanted.
“He’s not finished,” her uncle had warned her. “His kind never are.”
So she’d put two thousand miles between them.
“As long as you’re sure,” Zack said, with exactly the right amount of reluctance to tell her that he wanted something, too.
She forced herself to look in his eyes and smile, keeping her mistrust under wraps. People in Grand liked to talk. She’d heard the McGregor brothers had financial difficulties, and money, as her father used to point out, was all she had going for her. His nickname for her had been Mouse.
But the McGregors were also highly regarded in Grand and Posey wouldn’t deny Trixie a friend. She’d simply make sure she retained control of the terms of the friendship.
“Why not bring Lydia by at twelve and I’ll give them lunch?” she suggested. “Trixie goes down for a nap around one o’clock.”
Zack’s eyebrows pinched closer together even as sky-blue eyes widened. For the first time, his outward confidence slipped. “Trixie naps?”
“She does,” Posey confirmed. “Doesn’t Lydia?”
Zack studied his niece, who was deep in a staring contest with Trixie. His expression was priceless. He really didn’t know a thing about children.
Posey wouldn’t judge. She’d known nothing about babies before Trixie, either.
“No,” he said. “Maybe she should though, because that would explain why she sprawls on the floor after lunch and refuses to move, and her split personality disorder. We thought maybe she’s possessed, so we’ve been keeping her busy, hoping it’ll make whatever demon controls her sleep better at night.”
Did they really believe wearing a two-year-old out to the point of exhaustion was healthy? “She’ll sleep just fine at night, even if she naps in the afternoon.”
Zack rubbed his niece’s dandelion-fluff head. “Sorry, Lyds. We’ll cancel the exorcist and check if sleep deprivation is the real demon, first.”
He seemed so funny and sweet, and even though she knew better, Posey was falling for it. Why couldn’t Trevor have been this way with Trixie?
He’d been so excited about the baby—right up until her uncle had insisted on the prenup.
“Bring her for lunch,” she repeated. “I’ll see if I can get her to nap at the same time as Trixie.”
“Thanks.”
She and Zack looked at each other. Things didn’t exactly become awkward because he appeared oblivious as to why they might. She couldn’t figure him out.
“Don’t let us keep you. You’d probably like to finish your walk,” she said, giving him a broad hint that he should be going.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Zack shook off whatever he was daydreaming about. He reached into the mesh storage bag on the back of the stroller and pulled out a yellow sippy cup. “I don’t suppose I could fill this with water, first? I forgot to do it before I left the house.”
She could think of several reasons why she should refuse, but none that carried real weight when he had a toddler with him, so she didn’t object when he and Lydia followed her into the garage. She parked the stroller next to the door to the kitchen and unbuckled Trixie.
Zack waited in the doorway while she filled the sippy cup at the sink, checking out the room. She liked her bright, cheerful kitchen with the enormous window that faced the road. It was designed to be lived in. She’d bought new appliances and had them installed, but thought she’d paint the battered pine cupboards herself rather than replace them. The craftsmanship of the originals was excellent.
She passed him the filled cup and he thanked her again.
“See you at twelve,” he said. “Bye-bye, Trixie.” He earned extra points by getting down to her level again as he spoke.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he and Lydia were gone.
Posey closed the door and locked it. Through the window, she could see them as they passed in front of her house and made their way toward the bridge and the footpath that crossed it. Zack looked as if he might be singing to Lydia.
She didn’t know what to make of him.
The morning had barely begun, meaning there was a lot of time to fill before lunch. Grand, while quiet and pretty, didn’t have a lot going for it in terms of toddler entertainment. She wasn’t yet ready to join the “mommy and me” group at the local library.
They could visit with Eleanor, but Eleanor had begun to push Posey about making friends—for Posey, not Trixie—and she wasn’t ready for that, either. She’d also gently suggested that Posey seek counseling.
Posey, however, had sought counseling before and already knew what the counselor would say—in a nutshell, she needed to learn to stand up for herself and become more independent. She was doing her best. She had two people to stand up for, now.
Since she didn’t need groceries, and the day was too nice to spend it indoors, she and Trixie were both in the back garden when Zack and Lydia returned.
She was on her hands and knees, trowel in hand, adding potatoes to the small vegetable plot she’d started. Trixie chased a butterfly, trying to cup it in her small hands, while Posey kept a close eye on her. She hadn’t yet tried to escape past the pitiful excuse for a hedge, but Posey wasn’t taking any chances. Not only did the house sit too close to the road, but the Tongue River flowed languidly behind it. She’d have to fence the backyard, but she couldn’t do it herself and she didn’t want strangers invading her personal space.
Zack swung Lydia over the hedge and set her on her feet on the ground before stepping over it himself. His long legs cleared it with ease.
“You need a fence,” he announced.
Posey curled up inside. She rocked back on her heels, gripping the trowel. “I know. But there were so many other things that had to be done after we moved in. I never leave Trixie out here alone, though. And I’ll keep a close eye on Lydia, too. I promise.”
Blue eyes regarded her with an appearance of genuine surprise. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply any criticism. I was leading up to an offer to help you build one in exchange for you keeping Lydia.”
She’d leaped straight to defensive. She couldn’t possibly feel any more foolish about it, but old habits died hard. Guilt had factored in, too, because she’d just been thinking that very same thing—that she was putting her own interests ahead of her daughter’s safety. Again.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she said.
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He hunkered down to accept the bouquet of grass Trixie offered him, then didn’t appear to quite know what to do with it.
“You wait until she’s not looking,” Posey volunteered. “That’s what I do.”
They were now almost at eye level, separated by a few feet of freshly turned earth. His warm, steady gaze reminded her of his mother, who’d stood in this very same spot and extended kindness to her. Trixie liked him, and children were reasonably good judges of character. What was the harm in exchanging neighborly favors, as long as they kept them at equal value?
Trixie lost interest in Zack and focused instead on drawing Lydia’s attention to the longsuffering butterfly she’d been harassing for the past twenty minutes. Once her back was turned, Zack dusted the blades of grass off his palms.
“Putting up a fence is worth a lot more than a few hours of childcare,” Posey said. “I’ll order the material and you can estimate how long it will take to put up, then I’ll triple the amount of time for keeping Lydia in return.”
“Done,” he said quickly. “Remind me never to take you to a horse sale with me. You’re terrible at negotiations.”
He was so sweet.
Warning bells went off like fireworks. Trevor had been like this. At first.
Three years later, she still cringed at how easily she’d been manipulated. She’d had a favorite coffee shop in Boston where she liked to sit and read. One day, he’d struck up a conversation about books. She’d been thrilled to discover they shared a common interest in reading material.
Of course they had. He’d studied her for days, checking out what she liked.
God, she was naïve.
Then she’d gotten pregnant, and he’d been overjoyed—looking back on it, she was fairly certain he’d poked holes in the condoms—and everything had been fantastic, up until Uncle Bart presented him with the prenuptial agreement.
Sadly, she’d been as eager to get out from under her uncle’s control as she was to give her unborn baby a father. She’d dreamed of finally having the perfect family. At least she hadn’t been foolish enough to fight her uncle on the prenup. He might be controlling, but he’d only ever had her best interests at heart.
“If you’ve been holding off on the fence because you’ve had more important things to take care of, I can take a look around the ranch and see what we might have on hand. We’ve got a roll of chicken wire in one of the barns that I don’t think Jake has any plans for,” Zack offered. “It won’t take much time to put up and it won’t ruin the look of your yard. You can plant some shrubs on the side that faces the road.”
Posey examined the offer from every angle, trying to figure out what the catch was. What the benefit to him might be. She couldn’t find one.
Understanding gradually dawned. He didn’t know she had money. He likely assumed her ex-husband was paying her support and had made a kind, generous offer. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the absurdity of that possibility. Other than Eleanor, when was the last time someone had done something for her simply to be nice?
She had to swallow before she could speak. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

She said she’d never rely on a man again…

Never say never. When meek and mild Posey Davies calls it quits on her toxic marriage, she grabs her two-year-old daughter and runs. Her flight lands her in Grand, Montana, a community happy to take her in and even happier to nose about in her life and her unfortunate past.

The cowboy next door, Zack McGregor, has “good time,” written all over him. He’s only home for a year to help out his older brother, who’s guardian of their sister’s children. Zack is kind, funny and oh-so-easy on the eyes. He’d be perfect, but the practical Posey predicts Zac will disappear as soon as winter sets in.

Zack’s not as laid back and fun loving as he seems. He’s all about family and doing what’s right. When Posey’s deadbeat ex-husband begins making demands, Zack insists on playing protector.

Posey’s never had anyone stand up for her before and soon realizes that perhaps relying on this man and trusting in love is well worth the risk.

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Meet the Author:

Paula Altenburg lives in rural Nova Scotia, Canada, with her husband and two sons. Once a manager in the aerospace industry, she now enjoys working from home and writing fulltime. Paula writes fantasy and paranormal romance, as well as short contemporary romance.
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