Winter in Snow Valley
A Romance Anthology
Cindy Roland Anderson
Jeanette Lewis
Cami Checketts
Taylor Hart
Kimberly Montpetit
Lucy McConnell
Pepin Publishing, LLC
Contents
Copyright
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Lucy McConnell
Wedding Fever
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About Lucy McConnell
Also By Lucy McConnell
Kimberly Montpetit
UnBreak My Heart
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About Kimberly Montpetit
Also by Kimberly Montpetit
Cami Checketts
The Light in Your Eyes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
About Cami Checketts
Also by Cami Checketts
Cindy Roland Anderson
Destiny Came Knocking
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About Cindy Roland Anderson
Also by Cindy Roland Anderson
Jeanette Lewis
Starlight Kisses
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About Jeanette Lewis
Also by Jeanette Lewis
Taylor Hart
The Better Man
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About Taylor Hart
Also by Taylor Hart
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Copyright © 2016 Pepin Publishing, LLC
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the authors’ imaginations and are not to be constituted as real.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Interior design by Janet K. Halling
Cover design by Christina Dymock
Pepin Publishing, LLC
LucyMcConnell.wordpress.com
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Wedding Fever
Lucy McConnell
Chapter 1
December 31st dawned sunny and cold in Snow Valley, Montana. Breathing in the crisp air was like sucking down a mouthful of potato chips—sharp and unforgiving. Yet Sam Miller braved the elements to do a favor for a friend.
Chet Bauer was on his honeymoon with Mercedes. Married just before Christmas, the couple had escaped the clutches of Old Man Winter and headed for a tropical paradise where the sun sparkled like diamonds on the waves.
Flipping up the collar on his heaviest coat, Sam closed the door on the toasty cabin and climbed into his four-wheel-drive truck. A honeymoon sounded like a wonderful place to be right about now.
Besides Mercedes and Chet’s nuptials a week ago, Adam and Destiny were getting married on Valentine’s Day, and Amy and Jake planned to take the plunge on March third. And those were just the events he could remember. His mom’s fridge was papered in invitations to bridal showers. That was one part of the wedding he’d be happy to leave to his future bride. All those silly games. Bah! All of Snow Valley seemed to have succumbed to wedding fever.
Tucked behind a ridge, Sam thought his cabin had escaped the virus, only to find himself wishing he’d catch the marriage bug sooner rather than later. His longing for a honeymoon had nothing to do with the snow and everything to do with getting out of the single life. Man, how he hated the dating scene.
Truth was, he’d never been very good at playing the game of love. Navigating a woman’s subtleties was like being put in as a relief pitcher and not knowing the catcher’s signals. Too often, he ended up throwing a fastball that was knocked out of the park—game over. With a shake of his shoulders, Sam headed out.
Driving in Montana in the winter was always an adventure, ’specially on the back roads outside of town. The plow didn’t make it this far. Ranchers were responsible to maintain their stretch of the highway, and they used everything from John Deere tractors to four-wheel-drive trucks fitted with snow blades to clear the way. Snow fences were a common sight, their metal tops sticking out of the white berms.
As he crested a hill, the valley spread out before him. In no time, the small white walls and red shutters of the O’Shae house came into view. His eyes were pulled that direction for a reason that eluded him.
Habit.
Probably.
When a fine-looking woman lived in a house, a guy tended to keep an eye on it. Cat was charming with her Bostonian accent and big doe eyes.
Catrina.
A smile played at Sam’s lips.
The good Lord didn’t make women like Cat every day. She had a way of spicing things up—and he wasn’t just talking about her lemon pepper chicken. At the barn dance, she’d worn a red gingham dress that fit in all the right places with a pair of cowgirl boots. Sam’s wasn’t the only
mouth dry with nerves. The punch bowl had emptied within seconds of her arrival as men tried to keep their cool.
Sam ripped his eyes off the white clapboard home and happily tucked his thoughts of Cat into a mental pocket. He’d agreed to keep an eye on Chet’s cattle while the lucky jerk was soaking in the sun and his bride’s attentions, not to ogle his sister-in-law.
Pulling into Chet’s, he braced himself against the cold, stuffed his cowboy hat low on his head, wrapped his scarf tight, and jumped out of the truck. That first step away from the heater was always the hardest. He shuddered and plowed on.
The Bauer home faced east, with Chet’s backyard butting up against the pasture, making it easy to monitor the water levels in the hundred-gallon galvanized tubs. Sam checked the troughs, the cattle startling away at his approach. The trough heaters did their job well, and steam rose up from the water’s surface. All four of the tubs needed to be topped off, so Sam unwound the thick orange hose and started the process. As the water flowed, he leaned his elbows on the fence rail and breathed through his scarf while admiring Chet’s spread.
He had a barn off to the right, a big thing with stalls for several horses, a tack room, and hay storage. The house was older, but he’d heard that Mercedes was in the process of fixing it up. She had serious skills when it came to construction. The lawn was covered in snow; the few trees were mature and well-tended.
Between the barn and the pasture fence was the huge chicken pen, complete with a caged range area. Chet had built it for Mercedes as a wedding gift. She’d moved her flock of twelve into the spacious fowl-complex before the wedding. A few birds braved the cold, scratching around in the range-pen. While he watched, two flew out the small door to join their friends, squawking like they’d been offended but none the worse for wear.
Strange.
Sam tipped his head, wondering what they were doing. His curiosity turned to concern when two more hens flew out. A woman’s scream pierced the frigid morning air, and Sam broke into a run. That wasn’t a sound he could ignore.
He threw open the unlatched man door and was immediately accosted by a blizzard of feathers and chicken food. Cat was in the center of the coop, screaming. Her arms protected her head as she twisted this way and that. “Get off!” she yelled. The chickens shrieked almost as loud as Cat, flapping their wings on the attack.
Sam stared in shock as a Rhode Island Red flew at Cat, her feet clawing through the air. Cat tossed the feed bucket and ducked just in time. A rainstorm of pellets clattered to the floor.
Holding back his angry bird joke, Sam scooted through the door. Broken eggs coated the wood floor, making it a slippery mess. “Hey. Hey,” he cooed as he wrapped his arms around Cat to shield her from the hens. Tucking his cheek next to hers, he caught her fruity scent.
Cat buried her face in his neck, clutching his jacket to hold him close. Her breaths were ragged, like she was trying not to cry. He used his teeth to pull off his right glove and tangled his fingers into her soft honey-colored tresses, cupping the back of her head. Sam had never felt hair so silky. He had the overwhelming urge to pull it free from the collar of her coat and let it slide through his fingers. He settled for making small, soothing circles on her neck with his fingertips.
The chickens were bound to calm down once they realized Cat wasn’t going to pluck them bare. He wasn’t so sure his racing heart would calm as easily. Holding Cat was a novel experience akin to the first time he’d approached a beehive. Exciting, somewhat dangerous, with the promise of something sweet.
Cat’s breathing evened, but she shook like a sapling in a storm. Sam pulled her tighter, forgetting about chickens and bees and focusing on the woman tucked into his arms. She fit nicely against him, and she somehow smelled of peaches. He liked peaches.
She moved her head to his shoulder. Man, did he love peaches.
“What happened?” he asked.
Around them, the chickens kept their feet on the ground, and a few settled into the roosts.
* * *
Cat leaned into Sam—relaxing in his strong and protective embrace. She’d recognized his voice when he came through the door and had unashamedly thrown herself into his open arms, seeking shelter from one raging chicken.
“I was collecting the eggs and Bessie went nuts. I hate that chicken. If she wasn’t Mercedes’ only Red, I’d take great joy in making her into chicken noodle soup.”
Sam chuckled, the sound deep in his rather impressive chest. Sure, the guy had on a few layers, but a girl can tell when a guy is built well. Besides, this wasn’t the first time Cat had noticed Sam’s physique. She’d also noticed the way he kept his dark hair short and the way his cobalt-blue eyes said much more than his words. So far, her covert glances had been from a safe distance. Sam was one of her first friends in Snow Valley, and all those months ago she’d made sure he knew she only wanted a friend.
As up close and personal as they were right now, and with his clean-shaven jaw brushing her forehead, she was noticing a whole lot about Sam that she’d never seen before. Things that made her think staying just friends was a hasty decision. Like the way he made her feel safe, even in a coop full of crazy chickens. She shuddered again, thinking of their sharp beaks and long claws.
“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
Sam laughed. “Yeah, I’m a real dragon slayer.”
Cat pulled slightly away so she could look him in the eyes, not willing to be out of his arms while they were still in the coop. “Chickens are direct descendants from dragons. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”
Sam shook his head. His face was serious, as if he believed her, and his eyes danced with laughter. “I had no idea.”
Cat crinkled her forehead. “I’m pretty sure it’s true.”
“They both lay eggs.”
“And have wings.”
“And I’ll bet dragon skin feels like chicken skin.”
“I swear Bessie breathed fire.” Cat grinned.
“Let’s hope not.” He widened his eyes and looked around in mock fear. “This is a wood coop.”
Cat slapped his shoulder. “Get me out of here before she goes off again.”
“Of course, my lady.” Sam tipped his hat, and Cat’s stomach did a little flip. Rationalizing her reaction to him as having been perfectly natural under the circumstances, she hurried through the door and into the winter sunshine.
She flipped the latch to keep the devils inside where they belonged and then hunched forward. “I’m such a chowderhead. I forgot the eggs.”
Sam shook his head. “I doubt there were any that survived.”
“Stupid Bessie.” Cat scowled. “I was going to make pumpkin bread.”
“Now I’m upset at Bessie.” Sam matched her posture, which looked ridiculous on a full-grown man. “If I catch her, will you cook her up?”
Fighting a smile at seeing such a tall, strong man looking silly on her behalf, Cat asked innocently, “Did you think you were getting some of my pumpkin bread?”
He folded his arms. “I am taking care of a whole herd of cattle. And cows are way bigger than the chickens. I figured if you get pumpkin bread, I should too.”
Can snorted. “You can have the cows. If I promise to make you pumpkin bread, will you feed the flock?”
Sam shook his head. “Not for bread made without eggs.”
She sighed, thinking of her ruined contribution to the Bauer family New Year’s party. Spending the night with several couples and their children who varied in age was much different from how she would spend the holiday if she were back in Massachusetts.
In Boston, she’d be headed out with friends or quite possibly on a date with one of the single men from church. She’d been much more social in the city, always running here or there with a friend or her sister. Moving to Snow Valley to follow her dream of becoming an author had been a change in everything from location to culture. Here, she tended to hole up with her laptop, pushing herself to get the next book done. For
the most part, she was content. But when the Christmas Ball, barn dance, or bonfire rolled around, she thought having a life wouldn’t be so bad. “It’s just as well. I don’t know what I was thinking volunteering for this.”
“You’re a good sister.” Sam cuffed her shoulder.
Cat fought a sigh. She liked the feel of being held by Sam much more than palling around. For just a moment she wondered if she asked, if Sam would follow her back into the chicken coop and they could pick up where they’d left off. And why not? There was an undeniable current running between them back there—and a homicidal hen.
She dashed the idea of steeling away with Sam for a while at the thought of facing Bessie again. Her at the foul fowl doubled. “I should get a stinking medal.” She pulled a piece of eggshell off her jacket and made a face. “My sneaks are covered in—” Cat lifted her leg to inspect her shoe. “Ew.”
Sam removed a feather from her hair.
She laughed. “I’m a mess.”
“A beautiful mess, though.” Sam tossed the feather to the side as easily as he’d tossed out the compliment. Yet his sincerity shone through. She stared at him, wondering what to say. Had he felt the flux of attraction too? Nervous, her brain froze like a tongue on a metal pipe in the middle of January. How on earth could she write words for over a dozen fictional characters, and yet she couldn’t come up with one intelligent thing to say right now?
I really need to get out more.
“I’d better check the water.” He headed towards the back fence, his boots leaving a trail of something she’d rather not name in the snow.
“Thanks again!” Cat called, pleased that she’d been able to get that much out.
“No problem.” Sam grinned over his shoulder, cutting a fine figure in his cowboy hat, heavy work coat, and jeans that looked like they were made just for him.
Cat hurried into the house, where the woodstove blazed. Stripping down to her long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans in the mudroom, she hurried to the kitchen window to watch Sam. His movements were sure, and he looked like the star of a western romance, leaning against the fence with one foot resting on the bottom rail.
Winter in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance) Page 1