Brenda Mott - Ranch At River's End

Darci broke off the kiss as abruptly as Jordan did, her eyes snapping open to see his daughter standing in front of them on the deck with her friend Jenny, holding a Western tack catalog. Both girls stared wide-eyed at them, Michaela’s gaze accusing.

“How could you kiss her?” Michaela shrieked. Then she turned and fled down the steps below deck.

The look she’d given Darci could have melted the anchor and left them all to drift away across the reservoir. Darci was pretty sure Michaela would have run much farther than below deck if there had been anywhere else for her to go. Jenny looked embarrassed as she trailed after her.

“Oh, God,” Darci said. “Jordan, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” he said, then headed after his daughter.

Dear Reader,

My dad taught me there is a reason for everything. I had a hard time believing that when he very suddenly passed away while I was writing this book. It took me many months to even begin to get back on my feet. But as clichéd as it may sound, my father’s death made me see life from a different angle.

I began to remember how he’d taught me not to ever say “goodbye,” only “so long for now.” This is a belief of our people—the Cherokees—and something I began to take comfort in. I know I’ll see my dad again, and I know his death, as devastating as it was, is a turning point for me.

I realized that my heroine in Ranch at River’s End had reached a turning point in her life as well. When Darci Taylor’s son scares a cafeteria full of students half out of their minds, Darci decides they need a fresh start in the small mountain town of River’s End.

But things don’t go as smoothly as Darci hoped with the transition to her new world. Jordan Drake is an emergency room physician whose own life was turned upside down two years earlier when his wife was killed and his daughter wounded. He’s protective of Michaela, and when Jordan finds out Darci and her son have moved in four houses down from his own, he isn’t at all happy.

I had a great time taking my hero and heroine down the path they had to travel, and in watching how they dealt with their individual issues and—most important of all—how they dealt with their growing attraction to one another. And trust me, they went kicking and screaming!

I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at BrendaMott@hotmail.com. Please reference the book title on the subject line.

My best to you!

Brenda Mott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When Brenda Mott isn’t busy writing or rescuing animals—she has more than thirty dogs at any given time—she enjoys curling up with a good book (naturally!), or taking in the beauty of Tennessee’s Powell River on horseback, or on foot with a few of her dogs. Brenda can trace her family roots back to the Cherokees who walked the Trail of Tears, and her ranch—twenty-one acres deep in the Tennessee woods—is located on part of what used to be the original claims of the Cherokee Nation.

Brenda’s stories most often have a theme of strong family ties and values. They also reflect her love of horses—and of her home state of Colorado—by having a ranch-themed plot. Her works have won several awards including Best Series Romance from RT Book Reviews, but her greatest reward comes in entertaining her readers. She enjoys writing romance most of all, because there’s always a guaranteed happy ending. She loves hearing from her readers. Reach her at BrendaMott@hotmail.com.

This book is dedicated in loving memory of my phenomenal dad.

I miss you more than even a writer’s words can say.

Ah-nah-gee-sss-dee nahs-squah Oo-ney-tlah-nuh-he.

(Go with God.)

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

CHAPTER NINETEEN

JORDAN DRAKE WATCHED his daughter moving quickly up the sidewalk to school despite the cane she relied on. Hard to believe Michaela was already in the seventh grade. A now-familiar sadness threatened to overwhelm him. Sandra should be here, sharing this significant milestone in their daughter’s life with him. But this was no time for regrets—Sandra wouldn’t have wanted that. He had to keep moving forward.

The quiet drive to the hospital always calmed him, and he glanced up now at the rough-hewn mountain peaks, scattered with scrub oak, juniper and sagebrush, that surrounded River’s End.

The rural town was plunked down in the middle of some of the prettiest country western Colorado had to offer. With a small population, it was, Jordan had always believed, a good place to raise a child.

But tragedy had found him even here.

Shaking off the thought, he focused on the sun-filled, late-August day. He was sorry he couldn’t be outdoors, but he loved his job. Being an E.R. physician at River’s End Regional Hospital had its perks. Working three days on, three days off gave him plenty of time to spend with Michaela.

After parking his black Ford Explorer in his designated spot, Jordan headed inside. He’d barely scanned the reports when a patient—a boy Jordan knew to be the best fullback on their high school team—was rushed into the E.R. with a head wound. Typically, it was bleeding profusely.

“His brother hit him with a machete,” said the trembling woman hovering over Bruce Wilkins.

“It wasn’t a machete, Mom, it was a big knife.” The husky kid sighed in exasperation. “And it was an accident. I’m fine.” He grinned as Jordan pressed a wad of gauze against the wound with gloved hands. “But I don’t know about that lady at the check-in desk. She passed out cold when she saw this.” Bruce pointed at his wound.

Shirley? Had to be, Jordan thought. She was the one who usually handled the front desk. But he was surprised to hear she’d fainted. Shirley had worked at the hospital for years and seen all kinds of injuries.

“She did?” Go figure.

“Yep. And she hit her head, too, so you might be puttin’ stitches in both of us, Doc. I can wait if you need to stitch her up first.”

“You cannot wait!” Donna Wilkins scolded her son. “I’m sure Dr. Drake isn’t the only doctor here in the E.R.”

“Actually, I am the only physician on hand at the moment, but Dr. Samuels is just finishing his shift. We’ll page him if we need to.”

Jordan’s professional calm hid his concern. Someone needed to see if Shirley was okay.

He was about to duck out quickly to check on the receptionist when a wheelchair rolled into the adjoining exam room, which was partitioned off by a curtain. Jordan couldn’t see the patient, but he heard her protests over the squeak of the chair’s rubber wheels.

“This is ridiculous. I’m fine, really.”

Not Shirley.

“We’ll let Dr. Drake be the judge of that,” Molly Parker said. She’d been a nurse at River’s End Regional for as long as Jordan could remember. “Now get yourself up there on that exam table, Missy, and I’ll see where the doc’s at.”

If any more people came into the E.R., he’d definitely have to have Dr. Samuels paged.

“I’m here,” Jordan said. He parted the curtain enough to look discreetly through the opening.

A petite woman with short, blond hair was in the process of exiting the wheelchair.