The Last Real Cowboy. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
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His hat shadowed his eyes in the dim light of the foyer,
So when he nodded briefly Angela couldn’t read his expression. Something seemed to keep him from opening the door, made it feel like there was more to her question than she’d voiced—and more to his answer.
When she finally thought he must be able to hear her heart beating through her chest, he opened the door. Angela let out a deep sigh of relief, until he turned and tipped his finger to his hat in farewell.
A gentleman.
She shut the door behind him. Perhaps. But not like any gentleman she’d ever known. And perhaps that was the problem.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Cadence Creek—home of the sprawling Diamondback Ranch and two very sexy men: Sam Diamond, rancher, and his cousin Ty—a real down-to-his-boots cowboy. These two bachelors need two good women to make them settle down, and I’ve got just the pair. These girls may come with baggage, but they’re made of strong, resilient stuff. Angela Beck is a social worker on a mission, and Clara Ferguson’s a sweet, nurturing soul looking for a place to call home.
It all starts with the launch of Butterfly House, a special women’s shelter for victims of abuse. Angela won’t let anyone stand in the way of her plans—not even Sam Diamond, who saunters into a board meeting with a devilish smile. She and Sam don’t exactly see eye to eye. But as we all know, things are rarely as simple as they seem. Turns out Sam is exactly the kind of man Angela needs—and Angela is the woman he’s been waiting for his whole life.
I loved writing this story from start to finish, and I hope you enjoy it too. And don’t forget to look for Ty and Clara’s story, coming soon!
I love hearing from readers—you can find me at my site at www.donnaalward.com!
Until then—happy reading!
Donna
About the Author
A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes 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 Mills & Boon®’s 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, her page at www.myspace.com/dalward, or through her publisher.
The Last Real
Cowboy
Donna Alward
To Jayne, who rescued a very special kitty. And to Chippie—truly one of a kind.
CHAPTER ONE
ANGELA Beck tapped her fingers against the boardroom table and frowned. The seat across from her was noticeably empty and she grew more irritated by the moment. They’d held things up long enough, though why Molly Diamond was running so very late was a mystery. Molly was usually right on time.
“Angela, we really can’t hold off any longer.” Charles Spring, the President of the Butterfly Foundation board, folded his hands and looked down the table at her, his gray eyes stern over the rims of his glasses. “We need to get started.”
Charles had graciously agreed to let the foundation meet in the boardroom of his oil and gas company’s headquarters. It meant a drive into Edmonton, but Angela knew it was easier for her to commute than for the entire volunteer board to drive to Cadence Creek for a meeting. As a result she’d put together a list of things she needed for the renovations, determined to make the most of the trip. She didn’t have any time to waste if she wanted to make her projected opening date.
“I know.” Angela forced a smile and made herself remember that every person in the room was volunteering their time. She was the only one drawing a salary from the foundation. The reminder was enough to ensure her patience. The shelter was her dream, but success relied on a lot of people—people who didn’t have this project as their top priority the way she did. She couldn’t afford to alienate any of them—she’d come too far and invested too much.
“I’ll call the meeting to order, then, at 2:18.”
For an hour the board members discussed the latest fund-raising campaign; Angela outlined the latest PR push and upcoming open house, adding her input to the proposed operating budget and counseling services she’d organized for residents of Butterfly House. She’d thought she’d worked long hours before as a social worker for the province, but that was nothing compared to her days lately, especially as she was a staff of exactly one.
“And now,” she said, “I wanted to bring up the suggestion that we hire some short-term help for the minor renovations still needed to the house.”
Charles tapped his lip and looked over at the board treasurer, a graying woman with glasses and a stern demeanor. “Iris?”
“Leave it with me,” she suggested. “But don’t get your hopes up. The budget is already stretched. What’s allocated is barely going to cover the cost of materials. Start adding in labor costs and I start seeing red ink.”
“Perhaps if we can get more donations …” Soliciting sponsors was definitely not Angela’s favorite part of the job; she hated feeling like the center of attention and preferred to be behind the scenes. But it had to be done and so she did it—with a smile and an eye on the big picture.
The talk then turned to drafting up letters requesting sponsorship. Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. The place needed paint and window coverings and the floor in the living room was in dire need of replacement. Who would come good for all of that?
She straightened her back. She would do it, somehow. She was thrilled that her vision was becoming a reality and it was worth the long hours, the elbow grease and the worry. It would be better when the house was actually ready for residents. In its present state it looked the way she felt—tired and droopy. She’d make it right if she had to do it all herself.
They were down to the last item on the meeting agenda when the door opened and he sauntered in. Sam Diamond needed no introduction, Angela thought with disdain. Everyone knew who he was. She resolved to keep her expression bland as she looked up, wondering why on earth Sam had shown up instead of his mother, Molly, the Diamond family representative to the board.
Sam turned a slow smile on the group and Angela clenched her teeth. He was going to be trouble—with a capital T. She’d known it from the first moment he’d sidled up to her at the Butterfly House fundraiser and had asked in his smooth, deep voice, “Have we met?” Her tongue had tangled in her throat and she’d hesitated, feeling stupid and predictable as a purely feminine reaction warred with her usual timidity when it came to dealing with members of the opposite sex—especially in social situations. Well, maybe he’d had her at a disadvantage during their first meeting, but she’d kept the upper hand in the end and she would today, too. She was far more comfortable in a meeting room than at a cocktail party.