Anna J. - The Rancher's Homecoming

Chance Blackwell’s return—

Could cost her everything!

Ten years after he eloped with Katie Montgomery’s sister, Chance Blackwell is back in Montana to sell his family ranch. Katie could lose her job and the only home she’s known. But the loyal cowgirl is keeping a secret that could shatter trust and jeopardize her future with the widowed musician and her toddler niece. Unless Chance’s growing affection for her and all things Blackwell can earn Katie his forgiveness—and his love.

Bestselling author ANNA J. STEWARTcan’t remember a time she wasn’t making up stories. Raised in San Francisco, she quickly found her calling as a romance writer when she discovered the used bookstore in her neighbourhood had an entire wall dedicated to the genre. Her favourites? Mills & Boon books, of course. A generous owner had her refilling her bag of books every Saturday morning, and soon her pen met paper and she never looked back—much to the detriment of her high school education. Anna currently lives in Northern California, where she continues to write up a storm, binge-watches her favourite TV shows and movies and spends as much time as she can with her family and friends… and her cat, Snickers, who, let’s face it, rules the house.

Also by Anna J. Stewart

Reunited with the P.I.

More Than a Lawman

Gone in the Night

Always the Hero

A Dad for Charlie

Recipe for Redemption

The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor

Christmas, Actually

“The Christmas Wish”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Rancher’s Homecoming

Anna J. Stewart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09075-9

THE RANCHER’S HOMECOMING

© 2018 Anna J. Stewart

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2018-12-18

For my Blackwell sisters: Melinda Curtis,

Cari Lynn Webb, Carol Ross and Amy Vastine.

I will follow you women anywhere.

And our fearless wrangler and editor, Kathryn Lye.

I hope we’ve done you proud.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

CHANCE BLACKWELL MISSED a lot about performing.

He missed the way the room went silent as he sang words he’d painstakingly chosen. He missed the oddly intoxicating smell of beer, perfume and rejection. He missed the way the lights were dim enough for him to pretend he was alone, that it was just him and his guitar.

What he didn’t miss was walking off stage to find his long-time, long-suffering agent ready to pounce. Given the sour expression on Felix Fuller’s face, there wasn’t an “atta boy” in Chance’s future.

“I thought you had new material.” Felix’s disappointment was clear and cut almost as deep as Chance expected. Only five years older than Chance, who’d just turned thirty, Felix was as short as Chance was tall, pudgy where Chance was toned and was determined while Chance was...

Well, Chance didn’t know exactly what he was anymore.

Chance sighed and gripped the guitar he’d received as a gift his first Christmas after leaving the Blackwell Family Ranch ten years before. His wife, Maura, had worked a second waitressing job on the sly to buy it from a local pawnshop that Christmas they spent in Nashville. He could still remember her sitting on the floor next to the scraggly tree he’d dragged out of the back of a tree lot, her freckled face alight with excitement as he unwrapped it. The instrument had been the greatest gift he’d ever received. Until Rosie was born, at least.

“The new songs aren’t ready,” Chance lied. “And the crowd seems happy enough.” Applause was applause, right?

“The crowd was being polite.” Felix followed Chance down the narrow hallway. “You can’t launch a comeback on old songs, Chance. Sentimentality will only get you so far. We need something new, something fresh. Something from the heart.”

From the heart? Chance swallowed against the wave of grief-tinged nausea. If that’s what was needed, no wonder his creative spark had been doused. “I need more time.”

“You don’t have more time.” Felix nipped at his heels like an overanxious puppy. “Unless you don’t have any interest in keeping a roof over Rosie’s head. Or yours, for that matter.”

Chance’s gut knotted. He could live in his car and be fine with it, but no way did he want anything less than complete stability for his daughter. “I can’t write from a dry well, Felix.” And that’s exactly what he had. A dry, dusty well of inspiration. Ashes to ashes...

“Okay, okay, so let’s look at the bright side.” Felix’s voice dropped as he gestured toward the frayed, dark green curtains. “They’ve missed you, Chance. Your fans, your audience, they want you back. Which means we’ve got to strike—”

“I told you before this gig, I’m only dipping my toe.” Chance accepted the congratulatory slaps on the back and positive comments from patrons as he made his way to the makeshift dressing room, which, over the years, had been occupied by far more talented and popular musicians than himself. Apparently they didn’t care that he was singing songs from five years ago. “I’m not diving in all the way again. I’m not ready.”