The Last-Chance Maverick

The Last-Chance Maverick
Christyne Butler

THE ART OF FALLING IN LOVERUST CREEK RAMBLINGSFellow Ramblers, have you heard that Jonah Dalton is back in town? The sexy, citified architect hasn't been seen round these parts since…well, we won't get into all that. Let's just say love has not been kind to our Jonah.But our sources whisper he's recently been painting the town red with spirited artist Vanessa Brent. She's been methodically working her way through her bucket list–and taking Jonah along for the ride. You'd never guess that Vanessa's lust for life is masking her own heartbreaking secret. Can our hardworking maverick be the one to finally make her whole? Readers, we will let you draw your own conclusions–but we think this romance is a masterpiece in the making!

Vanessa’s Bucket List (#ulink_7b913ef4-dbc7-59ba-b592-1e449b1ad725)

1. Learn to ride a horse

2. Go to Disney World

3. Visit Australia

4. Learn to scuba dive

5. Kiss a cowboy Kiss Jonah Dalton!

6. Go skinny-dipping!

7. Dance in the rain

8. See an active volcano

9. Fall in love…forever…

* * *

Montana Mavericks: 20 Years in the Saddle!

The Last-Chance Maverick

Christyne Butler

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHRISTYNE BUTLER fell in love with romance novels while serving in the United States Navy and started writing her own stories six years ago. She considers selling to Mills & Boon® Cherish™ a dream come true and enjoys writing contemporary romances full of life, love, a hint of laughter and perhaps a dash of danger, too. And there has to be a happily-ever- after or she’s just not satisfied.

She lives with her family in central Massachusetts and loves to hear from her readers at chris@christynebutler.com (mailto:chris@christynebutler.com). Or visit her website, www.christynebutler.com (http://www.christynebutler.com).

To my husband, Len,

for believing in one last chance

Contents

Cover (#ucb341f02-0556-5c1b-b813-3a84291b9656)

Vanessa’s Bucket List (#ulink_7825653b-876a-5c05-b4a7-f3a37b3168f2)

Title Page (#ud781c254-809c-5dd4-aa93-4b9ba4ab5be5)

About the Author (#u781c8901-3578-5ec1-a062-ae746c8a03fe)

Dedication (#u39610302-0056-5f0a-9e42-66f956d6c86e)

Prologue (#ulink_f8480778-7c2d-5904-9a46-a42ddd247c1a)

Chapter One (#ulink_e2cee829-7a0c-597f-9e2e-2e95223a7ba5)

Chapter Two (#ulink_9a855fc3-8ac1-54c7-8b93-d20806b943ea)

Chapter Three (#ulink_1320dda1-cae9-5ba6-a73c-1a012ead95b0)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#ulink_66b3e592-c7a6-5f47-ac5e-a5112d7f65e1)

Carrollton Cancer Center, Philadelphia, PA Eleven months ago

“Okay, read it to me...” Adele’s voice faded for a moment as she struggled to speak against the plastic mask covering her nose and mouth that supplied her with fresh oxygen. “...again. We need to finish our list.”

Vanessa Brent swallowed hard against the lump in her throat that refused to go away. Every time she walked into this room—as plush and beautiful and unlike a hospital room as a sun-filled space could be—she had the same physical reaction and it stayed with her until she’d left again.

One would think after three months of being here on a daily basis she’d be used to the sight of her best friend fighting a battle they’d recently accepted she wasn’t going to win. That she’d be able to sit here, hold Adele’s hand and do as she asked.

“All of it?” Glad her words managed to find their way around the obstacle in her throat, Vanessa glanced at the aged piece of paper she held in her hand. Titled “Adele and Vanessa’s Bucket List, created July 4, 2001, Secret Clubhouse, Vanessa’s Attic, Chestnut Hill, PA,” the well-creased, lined sheet of notebook paper was covered with two distinct styles of handwriting, one belonging to her twelve-year-old self and the other a more mature scrawl. “Or just the things we’ve added?”