Michelle Celmer - Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door - Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door

HONEYMOON WITH

THE RANCHER

DONNA ALWARD

NANNY

NEXT DOOR

MICHELLE CELMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

I love to travel, and I don’t do it nearly as often as I like. So when I had the opportunity to include an exotic location in a book, I was in heaven!

Even better was writing about two people falling in love in a great new setting, and watching my heroine move out of her comfort zone as she tried new things—sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing, and most of all learning some important lessons along the way—like trust. Love. And acceptance.

Welcome to Argentina—home of spectacular rainforests, the wide open pampas, and one reclusive gaucho named Tomas, who manages to capture Sophia’s heart beneath an ombu tree.

With love,

Donna

HONEYMOON WITH

THE RANCHER

DONNA ALWARD

A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARDbelieves hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mum and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna always made up her own stories. She completed her Arts Degree in English Literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. In 2006 she sold her first manuscript, and now writes warm, emotional stories for the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ line.

In her new home office in Nova Scotia, Donna loves being back on the east coast of Canada after nearly twelve years in Alberta, where her career began, writing about cowboys and the west. Donna’s debut Romance, Hired by the Cowboy, was awarded the Booksellers Best Award in 2008 for Best Traditional Romance.

With the Atlantic Ocean only minutes from her doorstep, Donna has found a fresh take on life and promises even more great romances in the near future!

Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website at www.donnaalward.com, visit her myspace page at www.myspace.com/dalward, or through her publisher.

To Liz Fielding: inspiration, mentor, and friend.

Thank you, Liz, for just being you, and for taking

me under your wise and witty wing.

“¿SEÑORITA? We are here.”

Sophia straightened in the seat and peered out the window at the vast plain, her eyebrows snapping together in confusion. Antoine had told her that Vista del Cielo translated into View of Heaven. She liked that idea. It conjured up images of wide blue skies dotted with puffy clouds, perhaps seen from a comfortable deck chair with a mimosa in hand. The sky was right, but looking out, Sophia saw nothing but waving grass and a dirt drive flanked by a row of trees. “This can’t be it. There must be a mistake.”

“No, señorita.” The driver’s accent was thick. “Esta Vista del Cielo.” He took his hand off the steering wheel and pointed at a small white sign at the end of the long drive.

A sickening, crawling feeling began in Sophia’s stomach. The pampas spread out before her, flat and brownish-green. She slid across the back seat and looked out of the other side of the car. It was exactly the same view. On either side the fields spread, endless and dull. Off to her right, one huge gnarled tree looked out of place standing alone, a leafy green sentinel. And ahead, a house. A nice house, but definitely not a hotel. The building was large, a sprawling one story that turned two corners. A low roof over a stone patio added cozy atmosphere and contrasted with white stucco. Flowers in colourful pots stood here and there all along the front patio and another twisted tree formed a soft canopy over one side. It was beautiful, but clearly a family home, not the four or even five-star accommodations Antoine usually insisted upon when booking his travel.

The driver pulled to a stop in front of a shed and put the car into Park. “Don’t leave,” Sophia commanded. “This is a mistake.” She fumbled for the Spanish words. “Por error,” she tried. “No … vayas.” She knew the grammar was incorrect but hoped he’d catch her meaning. Perhaps she should have spent longer learning some important Spanish phrases. She flashed him a smile. She had to find out exactly where she was supposed to be and then get the cab driver to take her there.

“Si, señorita,” he replied, and at last got out to open the door for her. This had to be wrong, all wrong. Where were the luxury rooms? The spa and gym? The dining area with a chef and wait staff?

For a moment her bravado failed her. She’d shored it up to make the trip alone, wanting—no, needing—to do this for herself. She’d wanted to find a way to stick it to Antoine for humiliating her so much. What could make a better statement than going on their honeymoon without him?

But that had all been based on things going smoothly and exactly to plan. She finally admitted to herself that she should actually have studied the plan a little more closely. She should have known the route. Especially traveling solo. What would she do now?

Then she remembered what had driven her to this point in her life and she steeled her spine. It had been wrong to accept Antoine’s proposal in the first place and discovering his indiscretion had been a disaster. Still, if she had to be thankful for anything it was that she’d found out before the wedding and not after. She had given him three years of her best work, all the while falling for his kind words and sexy smiles. She’d thought herself the luckiest woman ever when he’d asked her out the first time. Marriage had seemed like the next logical step. Everyone had said it was meant to be, and she’d believed them.

But now she knew that Antoine had wanted nothing more than a trophy wife, the proper person on his arm to look good for the public. It wasn’t enough for her. She hadn’t realized until that moment—walking in on him making love to his mistress—that she wanted more. She didn’t want the country club existence that was so important to her mother. She wanted more than appearances. She wanted respect, not betrayal. Love, not suitability.

Acceptance.

And in that defining moment, as her future had crumbled away, she’d found the courage to say no. And to walk away.

Which had led her here. Still, she was sure there had to be a mistake. She took a few steps forward, trying to make out the plaque on the front of the house. It was old and in Spanish, but she made out the words Vista del Cielo and the year—1935.

A roar and a cloud of dust had her swinging her head back towards the taxi, only to find the cabbie had dumped her luggage and was now driving back down the lane, tires churning up the dry earth like a dusty vapour trail.

“Wait!” She called after the taxi, running forward as fast as she could in her heels. But he didn’t pause or even slow down. In moments he was gone, leaving her stranded with her bags in the middle of Nowhere, Argentina.

Her heart pounded. No one had come from the house to greet her. The place looked abandoned. She took a breath. Told herself to calm down. She would find a way out of this.

What she knew for sure was that she would not panic. She would not cry or indulge in hysterics. She reached for her purse and the cell phone inside, but paused. No. She most definitely would not make a phone call home for her mother to bail her out of trouble. She could handle this on her own. Her mother had barely spoken to Sophia since she had cancelled the wedding. There was no question of asking Antoine, either. It would be a cold day in hell before she’d ask him for anything ever again.