Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella

by Brown, Carolyn

  Carolyn can also be found online:

  WEBSITE: http://www.carolynlbrown.com

  FB: https://www.facebook.com/carolyn.brown.16568

  FB AUTHOR’S PAGE: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Carolyn-Brown/198727816879253

  Note from the Author:

  I love, love, love hearing from my readers! You can catch me on my website (contact us page), on FB (personal and author pages) or email me at ccbrown66@att.net

  I try to answer all my mail personally but sometimes if I’m working on a deadline, it may be a couple of days. Without readers, authors would soon top the list of extinct species so please know that you are appreciated.

  Please also take the time to share your thoughts on this book with other readers on Amazon or GoodReads.

  A few of Carolyn Brown’s other Romances Available on Kindle:

  An Old Love’s Shadow

  Honky Tonk Angel

  Red River Deep

  Bride for a Day

  How to Marry a Cowboy

  The Cowboy’s Mail Order Bride

  The Cowboy’s Christmas Baby

  Billion Dollar Cowboy

  Cowboy Seeks Bride

  Just a Cowboy and His Baby

  Mistletoe Cowboy

  One Hot Cowboy Wedding

  Darn Good Cowboy Christmas

  Red’s Hot Cowboy

  Love Drunk Cowboy

  Honky Tonk Christmas

  My Give a Damn’s Busted

  Hell, Yeah

  I Love This Bar

  Getting Lucky

  One Lucky Cowboy

  Lucky in Love

  The Ladies’ Room

  Hidden Secrets

  The Blue Ribbon Jalapeno Society Jubilee

  The Red Hot Chili Cook Off

  A Forever Thing

  In Shining Whatever

  Life After Wife

  Sweet Romances, Spicy Cowboy Romances, Historical, Women’s Fiction…Carolyn Brown has something for everyone:

  “Strong and well-developed characters with a tight storyline are sure to please fans of the Luckadeau clan books.” —Affaire de Couer

  “An entertaining story starring two strong personalities who think they know what they want, only to learn that you don’t always get what you want – you get what you need.”—Best Romance Stories

  “An insanely fantastic book, Carolyn Brown wowed me with this book and her expertise in crafting a perfect romance. Put me down as her newest Super Fan!” —Cheeky Reads

  “I love this book! I adore a good cowboy romance and this was a good one! It had me laughing and crying…I went through a whole range of emotions.”—The Cajun Book Lady

  Coming Soon from Carolyn Brown:

  The Burnt Boot Series

  Cowboy Boots for Christmas (Cowboy Not Included), Oct. 2014

  The Trouble with Texas Cowboys, Jan. 2015

  One Cowboy Too Many, Summer 2015

  The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle (working title), Oct. 2015

  The Red Dirt Road Series

  Long, Hot Texas Summer, Aug. 2014

  Daisies in the Canyon, Dec. 2014

  The Cadillac Texas Trilogy

  The Yellow Rose Barbecue Ball, Apr. 2015

  Available now:

  The Blue Ribbon Jalapeno Society Jubilee

  The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off

  An Old Love's

  Shadow

  A Vintage Carolyn

  Brown Romance Novel

  By Carolyn Brown

  Copyright © 1999 by Carolyn Brown

  Cover by Go On Write

  “I love my cowboys and there are none better than Carolyn Brown’s.” —Fresh Fiction

  “Brown provides an up close and personal look at the rodeo arena, with exciting action scenes written in her vivid, you-feel-like-you’re-right-there style.” —USA Today Happy Ever After

  “Charming, sexy, funny…I was hooked from page one.” —My Book Addiction and More

  “Fun, fun and more fun is on hand in a story that wins a blue ribbon in both originality and wit.” —RT Reviews

  “Author Carolyn Brown's books should come with a warning label. It should caution that once you begin reading, you'll lose all track of time being absorbed into the story so you can't put it down.” —Mason Canyon

  “Carolyn Brown is a master at bringing her characters to life and weaving stories that keep the reader enthralled.” —Night Owl Review, Reviewers Top Pick

  “Ruthless gossip, philandering husbands, flawless makeup, hunky bartenders and true friendship bring Cadillac, Texas, into vivid focus. brings her cowboy-romance writing talents to bear on this hilarious tale of women in a gossipy small town.”—Kirkus

  “Bestselling Brown takes her expertise in writing top-notch cowboy romance novels to stir things up in her first work of women's fiction, which is not by the lust of a rootin', tootin' cowboy, but rather by the love among four female friends, proving that, no matter what, friendship matters most.” —Booklist

  To my editor Hilary—

  you're the best!

  Dear Readers,

  Seventeen years ago I started my writing career with four contemporary romance books written under the name Abby Gray. Abby was my one eyed, black and white cat and Gray was my maiden name (I didn’t change names when I got married, only colors). Writing was going to be my vice and no one was going to know about it, but alas, my sister was so happy that I was finally published that she called three newspapers and everyone found out.

  I’ve decided to reissue those four Abby Gray books as Vintage Carolyn Brown Books in digital and paperback formats. This is one of those books, which originally sold as For the Love of Mercy. It has a new title, An Old Love’s Shadow, and a new cover, but the content is the same, hence the Vintage imprint. And since my vice isn’t a secret anymore and all the rest of my books are written under Carolyn Brown, then these are, too.

  I firmly believe that love and emotions have been the same since the days of Adam and Eve. Times change. Clothing changes. Attitudes change. But love is the same, generation after generation and that is why I left the story exactly as it was written in 1999.

  At the end of next year, there will be seventy five published books on my list now, but these four started my career and will always be precious to me. They launched my career into contemporary romances. Two years later I dipped my ink pen into the historical world of writing and found that I loved it as much as contemporaries. Eight years after that, with more than thirty contemporary and historical series and stand alone romance books, I started writing cowboy romances and those sexy cowboys have taken up a chunk of my virtual world since then. Last year, I jumped over into the women’s fiction world with The Blue Ribbon Jalapeno Society Jubilee, which was followed by The Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off this year. The trilogy will finish next year with The Yellow Rose Barbecue Ball. And again, I love this new genre, too.

  But it all started in 1997 with four contemporary romances and it’s been a wonderful ride with all kinds of characters keeping me company. Shhh…don’t tell anyone but I do have voices in my head. If you like this one, look for Red River Deep, which started my whole career as This Time Forever. Or Bride for a Day, which was originally titled, Love Is The Answer, or pick up Honky Tonk Angel which started out as Winning Angel.

  I would love to hear from you. Email me at ccbrown66@att.net or visit my website at www.carolynlbrown.com or look me up on FB.

  Happy Reading,

  Carolyn Brown

  CONTENTS

  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

  C
HAPTER ONE

  Tiny rivers of sweat trickled down between Mercy's breasts and the elastic band of her bra stuck to her skin, making her fidget trying to get it comfortable. She fished a soggy paper towel from the pocket of her blue denim baggy shorts and wiped the very unfeminine beads of moisture from her upper lip. Whatever had possessed her to be talked into coming to this godforsaken place even for a week?

  Dr. Nelson, her conscience reminded her in that cool spot where it lived inside her brain. Well, next year Dr. Nelson could beg until his beady little eyes popped right out of his head and his gray mustache crawled up his face and tried to cover the bald spot on the back of his head. She'd be double damned if she ever spent a week of her vacation in this place again.

  If she hadn't been so softhearted, she wouldn't be here in the first place. She'd be somewhere in a nice airconditioned hotel with a thick book, entertaining thoughts of a big, juicy steak for supper. But all Dr. Nelson had to do was tell her about poor little children with dental problems, and here she was in the middle of nowhere in rural Mexico in a tiny town with a name she couldn't even pronounce.

  Jenny, her roommate, thought it was a grand vacation. This was the third year she and her boyfriend, Kyle, had spent a week in this very spot. And she'd been the very one who had encouraged Dr. Nelson when he wanted to bring Mercy along to do what she did the other fifty-one weeks out of year. And that was be his dental assistant.

  Of course, Kyle was enrolled in a seminary and intended to become a missionary, so he and Jenny were out to save the world. Well, they could just save it if they wanted to, and while they were at it they could take Mercy's name off the top of the list of those willing to follow behind them. Because after the third day of helping to fill teeth which had holes big enough to bury army tanks inside, she was ready to go home.

  And tonight, of all nights, Mercy was supposed to lead the singing when she felt like a wilted giant zinnia, since she was too tall to be a wilted rose. What she wanted to do was shuck all her clothes, crawl up on her cot and pray for a gentle breeze to find its way to her bedside. The last thing she wanted to do was lead a bunch of kids in hymns.

  "What's got into you?" Jenny asked, flipping her short brown hair out of her eyes to look up at her friend, who was eight inches taller than her own five feet two inches. "Doesn't it just make you feel wonderful to know you might be bringing one of those children to the Lord tonight?"

  "I'm hot. I'm stinking hot. I'm sweating and I don't like to sweat. Right now I don't want to sing. I just want to be cool and I don't want to smell dust. I want to wallow in a bathtub with bubble bath and I want to drink ice water until I'm sick without thinking about it making me sick if I do," Mercy snapped.

  "Well!" Jenny huffed. "You knew when you came down here it was a working vacation. At least you get to sit there all day and hand Dr. Nelson tools and suction out the kids' mouths. You don't have to paint houses from daylight to dark and then take a bath in a washbasin."

  It didn't work. Usually Jenny could make her feel guilty, but not today. Mercy hated this place, and hating it wasn't going to send her to hell, even if Jenny implied that it might. Although Mercy did feel truly sorry for these people who had so much less than most people she knew.

  "You better get on down to the church," Jenny said coldly when Mercy didn't answer. "This is your night to lead the hymns and give a devotional."

  "What I'd like to lead is an exodus out of this place," Mercy muttered as she pulled on her sneakers and dabbed the sweat off her face one more time. Forget about makeup! No one would see her that would matter anyway. They were just interested in singing the hymns in Spanish, which she didn't understand anyway. But she would start them in English, in her sweet soprano and they'd pick right up and go on in Spanish, smiling and nodding the whole time.

  Mercy tramped through the dirt streets, the dust boiling up under her feet like a fog, mixing with the moisture on her legs, then settling down around the tops of her white socks, making little mud balls around the edges. A sweat ring as big as a dinner plate extended from under her arm, and ended halfway across her thirty-eight-inch bustline. Her long blond hair hung in a limp ponytail at the nape of her neck, but she made herself smile at the kids waiting on the church steps.

  With the first smile, the guilt trip she'd been so carefully avoiding floated down from the cloudless blue summer sky to sit heavily on her shoulders. In less than a week she would be back in her airconditioned house, going to work in an airconditioned car, and working in cool comfort. These poor children, who were looking at her like she was some kind of angel, instead of a female giant few men were interested in, would never know the luxuries she took for granted.

  The first hymn chosen by a little dark-haired girl with soft brown eyes was "Abide With Me," and Mercy started it off in fine style, then toned her voice down to listen to the children sing sweetly and softly in their own language. She sang the words to the second verse but didn't think about them, letting her thoughts wander back to her roommate. Maybe Jenny was right. Lord knows, Jenny had told Mercy often enough that she should spend more time on her knees, asking God to lead and direct her life. What she'd like to pray for the Almighty to direct right now was a vehicle—plane, train or even Rollerblades–to take her home. Anyway, when Jenny had prayed for God to become a dating service, she had met Kyle . . . and Mercy sure didn't want a missionary in her life. And she didn't care if Jenny fell down and kissed her bright red toenails, she wasn't going out with Kyle's friend, the ultra-religious, overweight, under-tall Brent, with the baby face and mushy lips. After one look at the man, Mercy had sworn she would never go out with someone so short she had to bend to kiss him good night.

  Somewhere in the middle of the third verse she couldn't hear the children anymore. The thump, thump, thump of the bass on somebody's boom box drowned out every note of the hymn, and she hoped whoever was walking down the street would hurry on past, so they could get on with their singing and devotional. She smiled and nodded as she raised her arm to indicate they should sing louder and ignore the fool outside playing some kind of earsplitting Spanish rock and roll that could probably be heard all the way back to Marietta, Oklahoma.

  The children sang louder—almost, but not quite drowning out the obnoxious noise. Then whoever was just outside the ancient adobe walls turned up the music even more. Mercy's naturally arched eyebrows climbed a little further as she stomped down the middle of the two rows of pews. Whoever was outside the small church would do well to run as fast as his little brown legs would carry him because he was about to face the wrath of Mercy Spenser. She might not want to be wallowing in a sweat bath and standing in front of a bunch of kids, but they all had a right to sing spiritual songs if they wanted—and to do so without some idiot disturbing them.

  The rusty hinges on the double doors creaked as she threw them open, reminding her just how old this church building was. She expected to see the culprit parked on the church steps with his boom box turned all the way up to the maximum volume, but no one was there . . . only the music, still blasting away. She bit her tongue to keep back a curse word and then realized where the noise was coming from—right next door at Sancho's Cantina. It wasn't a boom box after all, but a jukebox blaring away so loudly it was a wonder the dead didn't rise right up out of the cemetery on the west side of town and protest.

  "Well, dear hearts, it won't be playing long!" Mercy declared with vengeance and covered the six feet between the front of the church and the cantina door with two easy strides. She swerved to one side to miss hitting a long strip of sticky paper covered with the remains of dead flies spiraling from the rotted facing above the swinging doors. Every man in the place stopped talking when she crossed the bare wood floor.

  "Mama mia," one young man exclaimed.

  "I'm looking for Sancho!" she yelled at the top of her lungs and they all laughed.

  "Where is he?" she yelled again, refusing to let them make her blush, but they all laughed again.

  "What
can I do for you?" A tall, handsome man stood up from behind the bar, where he'd evidently been squatting stocking shelves.

  "Are you Sancho?" she tried to shout above the offensive music.

  "Hell, no!" The man smiled and motioned to one of the other men to turn off the jukebox. "I'm not Sancho," he said in a normal tone when the blessed quietness filled the room. "If you're looking for old Sancho, you're about fifty years too late. That's how long I think he's been dead, anyway."

  "Well, who are you?" she asked.

  "Doesn't matter who I am. Who are you?"

  "I'm Mercy Spenser and we're trying to have a gospel singing next door. Can't you keep this music down?" The set of her jaw and the determination in her beautiful blue eyes told the man she wasn't asking, she was demanding.

  "I don't think so. These men come in here after a long day at work and they want a beer or a drink and a little music from the jukebox. What they don't want is a kids' choir singing 'Rock of Ages' to them." His tone was just as challenging as hers. "You can sing your hallelujah songs in the daytime when these good men are at work. I've got a business to run, Sister Mercy, not a church."

  "I'm not a sister!" She clenched her fists to her side. Goodness, but this man was good-looking. He couldn't be a native of the country. He was more than six feet tall and his eyes were sparkling green. He combed his light brown hair back with his fingertips, and the muscles in his arms stretched the material in his snowy white tee-shirt. "I'm just Mercy, not Sister Mercy."

  "Well, don't get so damned riled then. If you're not a nun, then just go back over there and tell them they can sing all they want to during the day. And leave the nighttime to the men who want to have a cold one," he chuckled.

  "We'll sing when we damn well please," Mercy whispered hoarsely, nose to nose with him.