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Now that Rogue has his announcement out of the way, on to the good stuff!

Coming November 1st!

Thanksgiving dinner was the plan… falling for the rancher wasn’t!

Isn't this cover gorgeous?

Here's a little sneak peek.....

Whitney Johnson watched the big turkey as it came closer and closer. From her position under the brush, she could see it as it pecked its way along the forest floor, scratching here and there for grubs and worms beneath the rotting leaves as if they were her personal territory.

“Just a little closer, plumpzilla,” she muttered silently.

The bird shot a beady glance in her direction; she could swear it was a kill shot if the bird had its way. It couldn’t have heard her, though. Or seen her lips move. Could it?

The beady eyes glared—if turkeys could glare—as it stomped forward, seeming to challenge the rustling leaves in the bushes as the brisk wind whistled through.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and Whitney was determined to have the juicy bird for her younger brother and sister. A slight guilt gnawed at her for being unable to resist the temptation of a hand-raised turkey over a wild one, but she’d managed to squelch that down.

Her stomach was cold on the damp ground; the first few hard freezes had already left their icy deposits in the soil. Her fingers were getting numb, and she shivered as she held tightly to the snare rope—timing was everything. The gloves she was wearing were full of holes and ragged, providing scant protection, but they were all she had. 

“Keep coming, plumpzilla,” she cooed silently, her gaze focused as intensely as the village tea-leaf reader in her old home.

Sheer force of will might have sealed the turkey's fate because it suddenly stepped into the rope circle carefully hidden beneath the leaves with an indignant scratch and scowl in her direction. Whitney yanked the circle closed on the gobbler’s feet in triumph and shot up to a standing position.

“Gotcha,” she crowed as she jerked upwards to tighten the rope and dragged the squawking hen close enough to wring its thick neck efficiently and quietly. 

 Thanksgiving dinner secured!

She might have done a small victory dance as she wrapped a length of wire around the gobbler’s legs, joy filling her heart as she thought of the delicious meal it would make for her younger brother and sister. She offered up a silent prayer to the powers that be for the blessing of the fat bird, her mouth watering at the thought of its rich gravy fixings to go over the potatoes they had stored. Guilt was firmly put in its place—she’d done what she had to. The meat from this bird would be several meals later in the week for her angel-haired baby sister and her brother with the endless appetite.

Shivering against the nip in the air, she gathered the bird under her thin jacket, with one set of wing feathers sticking up through the opening. It barely fit, but getting away quickly was imperative because she was close to the rancher’s home, and the noise of the squawking bird might have alerted him. Holding the brim of her old hat down to shield her face from the wind with one hand, and the other hand under the gobbler, she turned around and set off for home. She’d only gone a few steps when she ran into something that felt like a solid tree trunk. She bounced back with a grunt and then peered up from beneath the hat brim and into an angry face several inches above her.

The rancher!

She gulped and stared. She should have stuck with the wild turkeys after all. The fury on his face was intimidating—and it was hard to intimidate her. She was used to fighting for what she needed. Good thing she had more guts than guilt, and it was too late now for regrets. She clutched the turkey tighter, wondering if this was how a pregnant woman felt with her hand cupped beneath a big belly. Running like a deer wasn’t an option; she wasn’t giving up her prize—no matter what. This would require a careful strategy.

The man was as big as their cousin Billy, who’d been fifteen pounds when he was born, and his father had tried to weigh him down with an anvil after he reached 7 feet—and she’d swear to that if anyone asked. She hadn’t even moved him when she’d walked into him. Before this, she’d only seen him from a distance and had carefully managed to avoid him altogether. Her stomach jittered like a field of butterflies had suddenly taken flight.

He eyed her with distaste. “So, you’re the young man who’s been poaching my fields and woods for the last six months,” he boomed like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk, his black brows turned down in a serious frown. “And now you’ve killed one of my prize gobblers to add to your list of crimes. You’ve got a lot of nerve when there are wild turkeys out in the woods free for the taking.”

 Whitney was deathly silent as the rancher’s butt-chewing rang out in the cold air. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, but she wouldn’t speak if she could. He looked and sounded mad enough to make paint curl from his hot breath. But her mind was focusing more on how to get away from him rather than listening to his harsh scolding.

 “I’ve got a good mind to yank those drawers down and give you a whipping, boy. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to steal?” He reached out with one large hand and shook her shoulder, her silence seeming to aggravate him even more. “What’s the matter, can’t you speak?”

 Whitney ordered her knees to stop knocking as she stared defiantly up at him, refusing to give herself away. If he thought her a boy, then it was all the better. She shook her head in a negative gesture. Besides, she was rather tongue-tied at the rugged good looks of the handsome cowboy in front of her. He was attractive, despite his intimidating green eyes, which crackled with fury. He had a nice black beard that she’d like to touch and see if it felt as soft as it looked. That errant thought surprised her.

 Since she’d never seen him up close before, she had no idea how old he might be. To find that he was young and handsome made her even more nervous. She’d stayed as far away from him as possible, avoiding coming anywhere close to the ranch house itself. But she’d spotted the gobblers earlier in the summer when she’d tracked a deer in further than she’d planned, and had fixated on getting one for Amelia and Luke for Thanksgiving.

Bad decision—obviously.

 When his eyes narrowed in speculation, she grew even more uneasy. Her shoulder was warm where his large hand was grasping her, sending tremors through her untried body. Was this an attraction? No man had ever caught her interest before. Her heart must be punch-drunk on turkey success and acting up.

He studied her carefully, and she warily stared back. Would he really beat her? That would most certainly be embarrassing—not that she’d allow him to get that far. She was tensed, waiting for his decision, when she saw a flash of grudging pity in his eyes. Being poor did have its advantages at times, but she still hated it.

“Aw, hell…just give me the bird,” he finally ordered, as if he was having a hard time trying to make his decision. “I might as well use this one for Thanksgiving dinner as kill another one. But I’m warning you to stay off my land and don’t steal anymore, or I’ll come after you and whale the tar out of you next time.”

He tried to take the turkey from her, but she stubbornly hung onto it, refusing to give it up. She glared up at him, her blue eyes snapping unspoken words that a fool could read. She was relieved that he wasn’t going to beat her, but he still wasn’t getting the bird back, either. It was too important to her. She’d made a promise—she wasn’t going to break it.

“I said, give it here,” he commanded, grabbing hold of the birds’ trussed legs.

 Time for the next step to freedom. Whitney kicked him in the shins as hard as she could. Small she might be, but she had steel-toed boots and her legs were strong. When he howled and let go of the bird to grab his shin, she spun like a deer on her heels and took off through the woods at a lightning-fast run. Or as fast as she could with her heavy load.

 As she ran like a watermelon on legs, she could hear him coming after her....more

A fun, enemies-to-lovers Ozark Mountain Thanksgiving novella!

You can see the Holidays Ever After Series on Amazon.

And if you've read this far, I also have five copies of Trick or Trouble to give away to five lucky winners. I'll take the first five people to respond to this email. Thanks for playing, my friends! And as always...