The Other Side Of Paradise
Laurie Paige
A FAMILY FORGOTTEN?What self-proclaimed loner and rootless orphan Mary McHale couldn't anticipate, when she arrived at Towbridge Ranch for the winter, were the feelings her new surroundings stirred deep within her…a mysterious déjà vu unlike anything the relentlessly independent wrangler had ever experienced.Jonah Lanigan couldn't drive the haunting blue eyes of his new employee from his mind–or dismiss the notion that they were an eerie reflection of others he'd seen before. Could he help Mary piece together her fragmented past…and in the process, become part of her future?
Mary might not be able to stay here, after all.
A winter alone with Jonah could prove too dangerous.
“I’m not going to pounce on you,” he said quietly, a flicker of humor in the words. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to, but I won’t.”
She stared at him, mouth agape.
He laughed, another temptation in itself, his voice smooth and luxuriously deep. “Drink up, cowgirl, then go to bed. You’ve had a long day. By morning, you’ll have all your fences in place again.”
“This is so strange,” she said, talking more to herself than to him.
His eyes roamed over her face as if memorizing its planes and shapes. “Not so strange. You’re a very lovely woman. And I still have warm blood flowing through my veins….”
Dear Reader,
Well, it’s September, which always sounds like a fresh start to me, no matter how old I get. And evidently we have six women this month who agree. In Home Again by Joan Elliott Pickart, a woman who can’t have children has decided to work with them in a professional capacity—but when she is assigned an orphaned little boy, she fears she’s in over her head. Then she meets his gorgeous guardian—and she’s sure of it!
In the next installment of MOST LIKELY TO…, The Measure of a Man by Marie Ferrarella, a single mother attempting to help her beloved former professor joins forces with a former campus golden boy, now the college…custodian. What could have happened? Allison Leigh’s The Tycoon’s Marriage Bid pits a pregnant secretary against her ex-boss who, unbeknownst to him, has a real connection to her baby’s father. In The Other Side of Paradise by Laurie Paige, next up in her SEVEN DEVILS miniseries, a mysterious woman seeking refuge as a ranch hand learns that she may have more ties to the community than she could have ever suspected. When a beautiful nurse is assigned to care for a devastatingly handsome, if cantankerous, cowboy, the results are…well, you get the picture—but you can have it spelled out for you in Stella Bagwell’s next MEN OF THE WEST book, Taming a Dark Horse. And in Undercover Nanny by Wendy Warren, a domestically challenged female detective decides it’s necessary to penetrate the lair of single father and heir to a grocery fortune by pretending to be…his nanny. Hmm. It could work….
So enjoy, and snuggle up. Fall weather is just around the corner….
Happy reading!
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
The Other Side of Paradise
Laurie Paige
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURIE PAIGE
has been a NASA engineer, a past president of the Romance Writers of America, a mother and a grandmother. She was twice a Romance Writers of America RITA
Award finalist for Best Traditional Romance and has won awards from Romantic Times for Best Silhouette Special Edition and Best Silhouette in addition to appearing on the USA TODAY bestseller list. Recently resettled in Northern California, Laurie is looking forward to whatever experiences her next novel will send her on.
Contents
Chapter One (#u1659caff-0d11-5bf0-9271-39f8ec82015a)
Chapter Two (#ud1e5dd8b-10fd-5326-b5be-47da13f07386)
Chapter Three (#uf1611376-c116-55c9-ad48-9917ecc623f5)
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 One
Mary McHale checked the directions on the sheet of paper, then studied the road again. There was no indication of a one-lane bridge on the quickly sketched map at the bottom of the brochure, nor of a creek.
Before retracing her tracks to the main county road, she perused the evergreen forest rising up the steep slope of the mountain, listened to the sound of the quietly burbling creek under the wooden bridge, then wondered if the water was pure enough to drink.
Not that she would risk taking a sip, but the woodland scene looked so peaceful and inviting it was difficult to imagine danger lurking there, whether germs or other kinds.
A place to lose yourself. Or maybe, she mused, a place to lose the world and find yourself.
The deep quiet called to her, but she had obligations and, as some poet had once said, miles to go before she slept.
With a sigh, she wheeled the old SUV and horse trailer in a tight arc and started back the way she’d come. At the main county road, she headed north once more and continued her search for the Towbridge ranch.
Three miles farther on, another gravel lane forked to the left. She spotted the sign informing her that the place she sought was seven miles west and made the correct turn.
Relief wafted through her. The shadows were long, she was tired and Attila needed food, water and exercise.
Nearly twenty minutes and seven miles later, she pulled up before the main building, a timber structure built rather like a large hunting lodge. A sign over the front porch declared the place to be the Towbridge Ranch, Est. 1899.
The gravel driveway continued on and circled a wooded area dotted with three or four picnic tables. Around the western perimeter of the driveway, she spotted camp sites through the firs and pine trees. RVs filled most of the parking spaces.
Well, it was the first Monday of September. Labor Day. Families were enjoying their last weekend in the mountains before winter set in, she supposed.
After parking before an old-fashioned horse rail, obviously new, she picked up a postcard from the passenger seat. It showed the seven peaks that formed a semicircle along the eastern border of Hells Canyon and gave the area its name. Seven Devils Mountains.
The peaks were west of the camp-ranch-resort where she was to be employed as a wrangler-hiking guide-whatever. The sun was setting behind the mountains in a near replica of the scene on the postcard she’d impulsively bought in LostValley, Idaho, the small town where she’d gassed up and which was an hour’s drive down the winding, dusty mountain roads she’d just traveled.