Candy Halliday: Dad's E-mail Order Bride

Courtney cocked her head in Graham’s direction. “Because you know the best way to do that would be to beat Rachel at her own game.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Graham admitted.

“I think we’ve both figured out the reason I’m here is because Rachel thought if we hit it off, you’d be willing to move back to New York City.”

He snorted. “Not likely to happen.”

“So what if we let Rachel think her idea worked when she gets home? Except instead of you going to New York, we’ll tell her I’ve decided to move to Alaska?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “To quote Rachel’s favorite expression, she would totally freak out.”

“Exactly,” Courtney said with a smile.

Dear Reader,

Like many authors, I also have a day job. One of the things I enjoy about being a dental hygienist is meeting interesting people.

Recently one of my patients married a man she’d met on an online dating site. The venue she used to meet her Mr. Right wasn’t what intrigued me. What intrigued me was that this man lived in a remote part of Alaska.

I thought of the drastic changes she and her teenage daughter would face living in such a secluded place, especially from her daughter’s point of view. Can you imagine telling a teenager she would be living with no shopping malls, no movie theaters, no fast-food and—gasp—no cell phone service?

That’s when my inspiration for Dad’s E-mail Order Bride was born. I decided to tell my story from a different angle. Fifteen-year-old Rachel Morrison isn’t going to Alaska—she’s there with her stubborn widower dad who has no interest in moving back to New York City. Rachel’s goal: pretend to be her dad on an online dating site and find him a wife from New York so he’ll have a reason to return to civilization.

Getting to know my characters in this book was great fun for me. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Cheers,

Candy Halliday

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Multipublished romance author Candy Halliday lives in the Piedmont of North Carolina with her husband, a spastic schnauzer named Millie and an impossible attack cat named Flash. Candy’s daughter and son-in-law and her two teenage grandchildren live nearby. Candy loves to hear from readers. Drop her a line at www.candyhalliday.com.

This book is dedicated to the greatest group of dads I know: Tracy Cottingham, Eddie Clark, Chris Patrick, Steve Poe, Matt Miller, John Mathews, Mark Thomas, Mike Simmons and Jon Scott.

Thanks always to my super agent Jenny Bent, and a huge congratulations to Jenny for launching her own literary agency: The Bent Agency.

Immense thanks to my amazing editor, Wanda Ottewell, who has incredible insight and demands the best from me.

All of my love forever to my wonderful family: Blue, Shelli, Tracy, Quint and Caroline.

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

GRAHAM MORRISON heard the noisy motor long before the floatplane came into view. He stuck his ax into the top of the log he’d been splitting with a loud thwack, removed his gloves and watched the plane circle the cove and make a graceful landing on the water.

Like other homes and establishments in Port Protection, Alaska, the small community was accessible only by boat, or by floatplane. Most people would have found the extreme isolation on the northern tip of Prince of Wales Island unbearable. But never once had Graham regretted coming to Alaska to renovate the fishing lodge his grandfather had left him.

Port Protection was a safe haven.

For him—and for the daughter he was raising alone.

Graham shoved his gloves into the back pocket of his jeans and started down the path to the long dock stretching out below Trail’s End Lodge. His place was always the last stop for the bush pilot on Friday, but today Graham hoped Gil Hargraves wouldn’t try to amuse him with any of his escapades.

Women were always Gil’s favorite subject. And Gil never missed an opportunity to remind Graham what he was missing staying secluded in Port Protection where the population was less than one hundred people and where the only single woman in town was in her late seventies and had outlived three husbands.

On Gil’s last trip he’d supposedly been gearing up for an amorous weekend with twin sisters from Anchorage. Other men might enjoy hearing Gil brag about his conquests, but Graham didn’t.

Gil was thirty.

He needed to grow up.

The floatplane came to a stop alongside the dock. Gil switched off the loud engine, opened the door and swung himself easily out of the plane. Even Graham could understand why he didn’t have a problem with the ladies. Gil was better looking than most guys, kept in shape, and Graham had heard his fifteen-year-old daughter refer to Gil more than once as wickedly hot.

His daughter referring to any male as hot—wickedly or otherwise—always made Graham cringe. Graham prayed Rachel would stay away from guys like Gil who liked to kiss and tell before moving on to the next woman.

“You’re looking good, Graham,” Gil said as he bent down to secure the plane’s tie lead to the dock. He straightened with a menacing smirk on his face. “In fact, you don’t look a day over forty.”

“Don’t push it, Gil,” Graham warned. “I won’t turn forty until tomorrow. I’m holding on to thirty-nine as long as I can.”

“Well, I brought you one hell of a birthday present,” Gil said, “that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?” Graham assumed Gil was referring to the log splitter he’d finally decided to buy rather than continue splitting wood the hard way. This birthday served to remind him he wasn’t getting any younger. So he’d circled the splitter in the outdoorsman catalog, and he’d left his credit card in plain view for his daughter’s benefit.

Rachel had obviously taken the hint and made the purchase on the Internet the way they did their big-item shopping. Her last words before she left for school were to remind him to stay near the lodge so he wouldn’t miss Gil when the plane landed with his birthday present.

“Need any help?” Graham quizzed, offering to assist Gil in unloading.

Gil laughed. “No, but you probably will.”

Graham was puzzled by his answer. And he was even more confused when Gil walked back to the plane and opened the passenger side door. There were no fishing parties scheduled for the weekend—a promise he’d made to Rachel—even though May was a peak month for salmon.

Whether Graham liked it or not, his daughter was throwing him a big party on Saturday. And Rachel had been so proud of herself for making the arrangements he hadn’t had the heart to disappoint her.

But what the…?

A tall blonde stepped from the plane.

Skintight jeans tucked into high-heeled boots.

Legs that went on forever.

Gil winked at Graham when he reached for her hand. And Graham went from confused to downright stunned. She could have been a model on the cover of a fashion magazine. And now she was walking in his direction.