Deb Kastner - A Wedding In Wyoming

“Relax,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’m doing you a favor.”

Jenn’s mind scrambled for an answer to his riddle, but to save her life she couldn’t put two thoughts together rationally as her family returned to the room.

“Thanks, folks,” Johnny said, addressing them. “It was nice to have a few minutes alone with Jenn to get reacquainted with this lovely lady.”

His arm tightened around her shoulder for just a moment. She didn’t know if the gesture was meant for the family’s benefit or if he was sending her some kind of unspoken message.

Maybe both.

Because she was sure, now, what he was doing.

He was playing her game.

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lives and writes in colorful Colorado with the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains for inspiration. She loves writing for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line, where she can write about her two favorite things—faith and love. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.

Two of Deb’s books have been nominated for an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Award for Best Book of the Year for Steeple Hill.

Deb and her husband share their home with their two youngest daughters. Deb is thrilled about the newest member of the family—her first granddaughter, Isabella. What fun to be a granny!

Deb loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her by e-mail at DEBWRTR@aol.com, or on her MySpace or Facebook pages.

But he was wounded for our transgressions,

He was bruised for our iniquities:

The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,

And by His stripes we are healed.

—Isaiah 53:5

To my former manager Kristie Parks at Hallmark,

and all the ladies, for making my time working

there so special. I told you I would!

To my editor, Emily Rodmell, for her patience and

direction in bringing me back up to speed in my

career with this book.

And most of all, to my family—my husband, Joe,

my daughter Annie and her husband, Max,

and my daughters Kimberly and Katie. You

have pulled with me through the rough times

and laughed with me through our joy. May God

continue to bless each and every one of you with

His mercy, grace and love.

Much excitement and love to the little new

bobbit in the DePriest/Kastner family, my first

granddaughter, Isabella! And no—I’m not old

enough to be a Granny!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

The roses were perfect, and so was her plan.

This year, Jenn Washington’s annual two-week family reunion would be different. She could see it already, from the way her family was fawning over the recently delivered bouquet.

“Oh, how lovely!” Jenn’s mother exclaimed. “And to be delivered way out here—it’s such a romantic gesture.”

“A dozen red roses,” Granny added, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “The color of love.”

Precisely, thought Jenn. Thank you very much.

She’d gone to a great deal of trouble picking out the perfect bouquet online—red roses surrounded by a scattering of baby’s breath and lodged in a lovely French vase. It had cost her a pretty penny, not only to purchase, but to have them sent by special courier to the middle of nowhere in Wyoming, at her grandparent’s ranch where she’d grown up.

Now, seeing her family’s surprised gazes, she knew it was worth every cent.

This plan was going to work.

“Sounds fishy to me,” Jenn’s great-aunt, Myra, said, pursing her lips. “There’s a card attached. Let’s read it.”

“Don’t you think you ought to let Jenn read it in private? It’s her gift, after all,” Granddad said in his usual, pleasantly gruff manner.

All eyes were on Jenn. Her heart was pounding. This was the moment she’d waited for, her coup de grace, so to speak. “Oh, no, that’s all right. Go ahead and read it. I have no secrets.”

She had more secrets than she cared to admit, but she wouldn’t reveal a single one.

Not now.

Not ever.

Auntie Myra plucked up the small card and opened it with flair, clearing her throat melodramatically before reading the words.

“‘Love, Me.’”

Clever, even if Jenn had to say so herself. She wanted to laugh aloud, but she kept her expression as innocently neutral as she was able.

“That’s it?” Granny said, turning to face Jenn, arms akimbo. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of explaining to do, missy.”

Jenn did her best to look both innocent and delighted.

Delighted wasn’t so difficult. This was going to be fun. No one was going to tease her about a lack of a significant other this year. No one was going to hint at the lack of grandchildren at the reunion.

Not this year.

Exactly as she’d planned.

“They’re just flowers,” she said, making a dismissive motion with her hand. “I don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal over it.”

“What? You don’t like flowers now?” teased Granny.

“Oh, I like flowers,” Jenn answered with a laugh.

“So it’s the man you don’t like,” guessed Jenn’s mother.

Jenn laughed again and shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Do you even know who these are from?” queried Auntie Myra, still gazing at Jenn with suspicion and disbelief. Not hard to understand, since Jenn, now twenty-six, had never brought a man home to meet the family.

“Of course I do,” Jenn answered immediately.

Me, she thought with delight.

“And that would be?” Auntie Myra continued.

From the start, she’d known that her family would want to know the name, rank and serial number of any man who’d finally gotten close enough to Jenn to receive her attention.

“J-uh-Johnny,” she stammered, and then let out a relieved breath when everyone smiled at her.

All at once, questions flew at her from every direction.

Where did she meet him?

How long had they been dating?

Why hadn’t she mentioned him before?

As quick as they started, the barrage of questions were abruptly cut off by a loud pounding coming from behind them.

“What’s all the noise in here?” came an unexpected voice from the kitchen doorway, where a sandy-haired man was lounging his bony shoulder against the doorway, his cowboy hat low over his eyes.