The Friendliest Town In Montana
A fresh start for her troubled daughter—that’s what widow Janelle Townsend wants to find in Bear Lake, Montana. The five-year-old girl hasn’t spoken a word in months. But when the family of two meets widower Adam Hunter and his kind daughter, Janelle’s child begins to blossom. Still, the handsome auto mechanic keeps Janelle at arm’s length. He seems to be hiding something painful—something he can’t bear to share. Perhaps their two sweet children can help Janelle show him that opening the heart to love is life’s greatest joy.
“I appreciate all your help, Adam,” Janelle said, “including letting us stay in the cottage tonight.”
“No problem.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to call it a night. You want me to get your daughter for you?”
“If you don’t mind. She’s getting almost too heavy for me to carry.”
Together they walked inside. Janelle stopped at Hailey’s bedroom door.
“I meant to comment on the good job you’re doing raising your daughter on your own,” Janelle said. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“Thanks. She is a good kid. I’m a little worried, though, about when she gets to be a teenager. I’m sure not going to be able to give her much advice about dating and wearing makeup and stuff like that.”
Janelle chuckled. “You’ll figure it out.” A father as devoted as Adam would do just fine as long as Hailey knew how much he loved her.
Janelle wished Rae had a father like that.
CHARLOTTE CARTER
A multipublished author of more than fifty romances, cozy mysteries and inspirational titles, Charlotte Carter lives in Southern California with her husband of forty-nine years and their cat, Mittens. They have two married daughters and five grandchildren. When she’s not writing, Charlotte does a little stand-up comedy, “G-Rated Humor for Grownups,” and teaches workshops on the craft of writing.
Montana Love Letter
Charlotte Carter
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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There are also heavenly bodies and there are
earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another;
and star differs from star in splendor.
—1 Corinthians 15:40, 41
For my husband, Chuck,
who gave me my first how-to-write-a-romance book twenty years ago. You’re my real-life hero.
Contents
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Excerpt
Chapter One
“What do you mean, I have to pay cash?” Adam Hunter speared his grease-stained fingers through his hair. He’d taken over the Bear Lake Garage from his dad ten years ago. Adam, and his father before him, had always had a line of credit at the local bank. They’d been doing business on credit with the auto-parts store in Missoula for thirty years or more.
The lanky auto-parts delivery kid shrugged. “That’s what the boss said. Only cash. No credit.”
“There must be some mistake,” Adam said.
“You can call Devin if you want.” The kid handed him the invoice. “It says right there, cash only.”
Adam took a quick glance at the papers listing the parts he knew he had ordered: a new headlight for a customer who had missed the target driving into his own garage, a dozen sets of spark plugs, radiator hoses, a couple of batteries to have on hand. He pretty much had to take the kid’s word for it that the red stamp across the invoice meant what it said: CASH ONLY.
The racket of the garage’s flatbed tow truck shifted his attention away from the invoice. Gears clattered and a whiff of diesel exhaust blew in through the wide-open doors as Vern Rutledge backed the truck up. An hour or so ago they’d had a call from the sheriff’s office to pick up a car that had had an encounter with a deer on Highway 93, the road that ran through the town of Bear Lake en route to and from Glacier National Park, Montana.
Even from a distance, the damage to the front end of the four-door compact was obvious. Must’ve been some big buck that got hit.
When Vern turned off the engine, a young girl hopped down from the truck cab followed by a striking woman who moved with the grace of a dancer. Long brown hair curled past her shoulders. The afternoon sun caught the strands, touching them with a hint of red.
“Good-lookin’ lady,” the delivery guy said under his breath.
Adam agreed she was good-looking. Add to that, she was downright classy in the way she dressed and held herself so erect. Her outfit of slacks with sandals and a tidy blouse tucked in at her narrow waist marked her as a tourist. So did the Washington plates on her car.
“Hang on,” he said to the delivery kid. “I’ll get you the cash and give Devin a call later to straighten out the mix-up.” The faster he took care of the delivery, the sooner he could turn his attention to his pretty new customer.
* * *
Still shaken by her violent encounter with a tree when she’d swerved to miss a deer, Janelle Townsend smoothed her hand over her daughter’s hair. Thank goodness Raeanne had had her seat belt on in the backseat. Janelle had been the only one in front, and the driver’s air bag had deployed on impact. As it was, Rae would have a bruise from the seat belt across her chest, and Janelle’s neck already ached.
But it could have been worse.
The driver of the tow truck came around to the passenger side. His face wrinkled and weathered by more than sixty years, Vern lifted his baseball cap and scratched his thinning gray hair.
“Adam’ll will be right with you, miss. He’ll take good care of you.”
“Thank you for bringing us here. I don’t know what I would have done if that deputy sheriff hadn’t come by. My cell couldn’t pick up any bars.”
“Yep, reception’s mighty spotty around the mountains, that’s for sure.” He resettled his cap. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll unload your car so Adam can take a close look.”
“Of course. Thank you again.” She eased Raeanne out of the way of the truck. As shaken as Janelle, five-year-old Rae had a fierce death grip on her favorite stuffed animal, Ruff. The poor thing’s fur had worn thin over his ears and he’d lost some of his stuffing.
“Careful you don’t step in any grease spots,” she said.
Although as she glanced around, she noted the garage floor was nearly spotless, certainly in comparison to some auto shops she’d visited over the course of her twenty-eight years.
At the back of the garage there was an office with a window. The man she took to be Adam, presumably the owner, handed something to the man he’d been talking to. They separated, the younger man going to his pickup and Adam walking toward Janelle.
Wearing blue overalls, he had a nice, comfortable stride and a smile curving his lips. Although his saddle-brown hair was cut fairly short, it was rumpled as though he’d recently run his fingers through it. She guessed he was in his mid- to late-thirties.
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