West Coast Happily-Ever-After Series: Books 1-3 (Her Forever Cowboy Never Say Never Caleb's Christmas Wish)
West Coast Happily-Ever-After Books 1-3
Debra Salonen
Copyright © 2016, 2017 by Debra Salonen
Cover design: Covers By Rogenna
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 1-944300-21-X
Created with Vellum
Contents
WEST COAST Happily-ever-after
HER FOREVER COWBOY
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
NEVER SAY NEVER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
CALEB’S CHRISTMAS WISH
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Love Boxed Sets? Don’t miss West Coast Happily-Ever-After Volume II
About the Author
Also by Debra Salonen
WEST COAST Happily-ever-after
Land’s end. The Green Flash. Cowboys and golden gates. The High Sierra and the Central Valley. Black ice and Great Danes. Welcome to the West Coast, where happily-ever-after is a state of mind.
Dear Reader,
I’m so happy to share this BOXED SET of my series of stand-alone romance novels united by two things: location and HEA. I’ve been a California resident since 1980 and have visited every spot where these books are set--from the edge of the Pacific (“green flash” photo above) to the snowy foothills of the Sierra-Nevada range and the gorgeous Oregon coast. But as romance readers we all value the importance of a hopeful, heart-tugging happily-ever-after, right?
These books have another core element in common--strong heroines who know their minds but aren’t afraid to listen to their hearts. Several are mothers, one is a wannabe mom, and another--the heroine of this book--falls into the role through unimaginable loss. The men in their lives are no slackers. They’re strong, successful, and, once they find the woman who rocks their world, will do whatever it takes to gain her trust...and her heart.
You can read each book’s FIRST KISS on my website.
I hope you enjoy this collection. Volume II, which completes the series, is also available. Check it out here: BOXED SETS.
Next up? BETTING ON LOVE, a four-book series set in Las Vegas. You’ll always be the first to learn about new releases if you sign up for my Debra Salonen NEWSLETTER. I try to send out two/month. One with all the latest news from “DebLand” and the second with READ4LESS bargains from some of the best authors in the biz.
Thank you for reading!
Deb
HER FOREVER COWBOY
Chapter 1
The one piece? Or the bikini?
Anne Fraser knelt before the bottom drawer of her dresser like a novitiate at prayer. Her hand wavered between two disparate clumps of fabric. One sober, practical--useful for the occasional on-site inspection of a World Hospitality Corporation hotel pool. The other a sexy scrap of bright colors purchased at a time when tempting the man in her life took precedence over the checking chlorine levels at a WHC property.
She snatched the black one-piece suit from its spot and tossed it over her shoulder, hoping it would land near the open suitcase on the bed. "I don't even know if the Silver Rose has a pool," she muttered, opening a second drawer. "It didn't when I lived there."
But a lot could change in fifteen years. Lord knows she had.
She stared, unseeing, at the neatly folded summer clothes. Three months in Nevada. Was she out of her mind?
Her boss, Roger McFinney, had asked the same question less than an hour earlier when he accosted her in her office. Even though her request for family leave had been approved by the head of personnel, Roger hadn't been pleased. "Am I expected to hold this door open to you for three months while you run off to the wilds of Nevada to fulfill some tenuous stepdaughter obligation?"
In his early sixties, Roger looked fifteen years younger. Some in the office attributed this to his vampire heritage. But he'd been Anne's mentor for five years and was the reason she had a shot at an executive-level job.
"Anne," he'd said, softening as much as Roger softened, "your mother is dead. Surely whatever guilt you feel for not spending more time with her at the end isn't worth the job of a lifetime."
Anne's mother, Esther, had passed away in February, and not a night went by that Anne didn't think about her with regret. So when A.J. Cavanaugh, Anne's stepfather, called to ask for her help this summer, Anne couldn't say no--especially when Zoey added a little emotional arm-twisting.
"Please, Mommy," her eight-year-old daughter had begged. "Grandpa needs us. And you promised I'd get to visit the ranch when I was older. I'll be nine in July, you know."
Anne knew. And Esther's death had driven home one immutable fact: life was fleeting. Zoey was growing up too fast, and Anne was missing out. Maybe that was the true reason she'd agreed to this trip. All Anne knew for certain was that her motivation didn't stem from any love for Nevada. The eighteen months she'd spent there in high school had been eighteen too many in her book. Esther had come to love the sage scrub and fir-covered landscape of the high desert, but Anne didn't share those feelings.
Anne quickly selected an assortment of shorts, jeans and tops then turned her attention to her lingerie drawer. Two sports bras. Three regular. Maybe the push-up... Her hand hovered over the satin fabric. Why bother? She gave a mental shrug and added it to the pile. A 34-B didn't take up much space.
She chose two sets of pajamas. One summer-weight cotton, one flannel. Late May on the eastern slope of the Sierra Nevada mountain range offered variable weather as she recalled. The snow had probably been gone for a month, but mornings could be chilly.
The historic Silver Rose Guest Ranch was a unique anachronism--a working ranch existing within a stone's throw of a burgeoning population. Thirty minutes from Reno, the Silver Rose was a juicy prospect for developers. Given the economic realities of ranching, A.J. had been forced to sell off several parcels close to the highway over the years. He might have sold out completely if he hadn't met Esther. She'd talked him into opening the ranch to guests not long after Anne moved out.
Anne's brief sojourn at the Silver Rose had ended with her graduation from high school. She'd returned several times over the years, but never for a prolonged stay. The Silver Rose was her mother's domain--a shadowy memory that still had the
power to haunt Anne's dreams and fill her with a sense of failure.
She let out a sigh and turned on one heel, her bare foot making a squeaky sound on the gleaming hardwood floor. Wood provided a fiber-free surface that was easier to keep clean. Dust, pollen, pet hair, smoke, and mold were her daughter's enemies. Once Zoey stepped outside, her fragile lungs and easily compromised bronchia were subject to forces beyond Anne's control. But behind the door of their apartment, Anne was as vigilant as possible. "A clean freak," Anne once heard Maria, her housekeeper/nanny, tell someone on the phone.
Anne didn't care what the woman thought as long as she followed Anne's rules: no smelly cleaning products, aerosol cans, perfumes or scented lotions. Maria also had to pass an emergency-response course and learn CPR before entering Anne's employ.
How Anne would create an asthma-friendly environment in an eighty-year-old ranch house with barns, a riding arena and a forest just beyond the main compound was anybody's guess. But she was hoping the altitude and clean air would offset indoor hazards. She'd already shipped their spare ozone purifier for Zoey's room. At worst, the little girl would be housebound, but Anne prayed it wouldn't come to that. Zoey had her heart set on learning how to ride a horse this summer. A prospect that didn't thrill Anne in the least.
Anne had consulted with all three of Zoey's doctors, and each was optimistic about the positive benefits of the trip. One had even gone so far as to suggest that simply having Anne around more would lessen Zoey's stress level and reduce the frequency of her attacks.
Another helping of guilt, Ms. Fraser?
Why, yes, Doctor. Thank you. That's exactly what I was hoping to hear.
Not.
No single mother who worked for a living needed to be told that her absence was stressful to her child--especially an asthmatic child.
And the past six months had been more chaotic than usual--for both Anne and Zoey. Just before Christmas, an opening in the top tier of WHC management had been announced. Roger had assured Anne the job was hers if she wanted it. The position represented the brass ring Anne had been striving for for years. When she called her mother with the good news, Anne learned that Esther was at a clinic in Reno for some "stomach trouble." Three weeks later, A.J. called to say the problem had been diagnosed as pancreatic cancer and the prognosis was bad.
Anne had immediately headed west. Alone. The winter months had already taken a toll on Zoey, who seemed to catch every germ in public school. To everyone's regret, the little girl wasn't well enough to accompany Anne on either of her two trips to Nevada – one to visit her mother in the hospital and the other to say goodbye just hours before Esther passed away.
Now, Anne was going back again. With Zoey. For the entire summer.
Three thousand miles from our respiratory professionals. Anne pressed the heel of her hand to the spot below her breastbone where a germ of fear replicated with abandon in her belly.
As she folded the clothing with practiced ease, she recalled the conversation that had produced this unwelcome bit of penance. When A.J had called three weeks earlier, Anne had been touched that he'd turned to her for help. "I need you, Annie girl." He was the only person in the world who called her Annie.
At the time, she'd been prepared to drop everything and fly to Nevada for a few days to help him over this hurdle of grief. She was still hurting, too. The speed of Esther's demise hadn't given anyone time to prepare.
But A.J.'S call wasn't about solace. He wanted--no, he demanded--three months of her life. "I promised your mother I'd take her home when the time came," he'd explained. "I need you to hold down the fort while I'm gone. Some of our guests have been coming for ten years or better. This won't be easy for them."
Them? Anne had wanted to cry. What about me? There's no way in the world I can fill Mom's shoes.
Rather than admit that the thought of trying to take her mother's place terrified her, Anne argued that it was unfeasible to expect a person to request a three-month leave of absence from her job. Her life.
"I heard about something called 'family leave,'" A.J. had said. "An employer can't deny it, if the employee has it coming. You've been with that company since college, Anne. Who's more deserving than you?"
"But..."
Whatever argument she'd planned to use disappeared when he said, "I'm just asking you to handle the guest part of the operation. Will's coming home to take care of the ranch."
When she failed to comment on that astonishing revelation, he added, "For more years than I care to admit, I promised Esther a leisurely trip to the East Coast." His voice took on a gruff edge. "Stop and go when we wanted. See the sights. Visit old friends."
Anne vaguely remembered hearing her mother talk about such a trip.
"Esther made a list of people and places she wanted to see. Mapped the whole route. I kept putting her off." He swallowed the quaver in his voice. "Can't put if off no more, Annie. It's time for reckoning."
After a tiny pause, he added, "I helped you out when you wanted to go to that fancy college. And later on, too--after you and the mister broke up. Now, I need your help."
What could she say? He was right. A.J. and her mother had been there anytime she asked. And how had she repaid their kindness? By keeping too busy to visit regularly. By sending emails instead of making phone calls.
But his timing couldn't have been worse. "Is there any chance you could make this later in the summer?" Once my promotion is in the bag, I could probably swing some time off.
"No, dang it," he'd barked with unusual volume. A.J. was by nature a quiet, soft-spoken man with a gentle but resolute style. Her mother had often said that once A.J. Cavanaugh made up his mind, it would take an act of Congress to change it. "This is how Esther wanted it. Can I count on you?"
Anne's answer was the only one possible. "Of course, A.J. I will be happy to help out." Her mother would have seen right through her fake cheer. A.J. probably did, too, but he graciously offered to meet her plane as soon as she let him know the time of arrival.
"Mommy, can I take my PlayStation?"
Anne looked over her shoulder. Zoey stood in the doorway. Three foot eight inches tall, ethereally thin, with wispy, blond hair and emerald eyes that looked huge given the pale aubergine hollows under them and regal cheekbones. Zoey Elizabeth Fraser was an enchanting mix of princess, tomboy, and scholar. Anne could no more pigeon-hole her daughter's character than she could harness a butterfly. Despite being hampered by a fragile bronchial system that betrayed her at moments when her emotions were running high, Zoey remained bold and adventurous.
"Yes, love, you may bring anything and everything that will help you feel at home. Books. Puzzles. Videos. Grandpa assured me they have two computers, so put in your favorite games. I can't guarantee how speedy his are, but I'll have my laptop in case they're dinosaurs."
Zoey made a face. "You're not going to work for him while we're there, are you?"
Him. Roger had become Zoey's bogeyman--the person responsible for every ruined dinner, missed bath, and too-short bedtime story.
"Not unless it means losing my job."
"You mean your pr'motion."
Anne ignored the contentious tone. "Yes."
Zoey's forehead wrinkled in a way that reminded Anne of A.J.--although biologically that was impossible, since Anne and A.J. were related by marriage, not blood. "If you get it, would we have to move? Again?"
The tone applied to the last word said it all. Since they'd already covered this territory more than once, Anne walked to her closet without replying.
She opened the doors. Ninety percent of her wardrobe was business suits. "Let's see. What do I need? Jacket? Yes. Cardigan? Absolutely. Raincoat? I can't remember if it rains there in the summer." In truth, Anne didn't recall much about her Nevada experience. She'd spent most of the time indoors behind a book.
She'd moved to the Silver Rose during Christmas vacation of her junior year of high school – a tough time to expect to fit in, even for someone outgoing. H
er natural shyness and Maine accent had labeled her "different." She made a few acquaintances, but no close friends.
In addition to the unhappy school experience, Anne's home life was difficult. She felt left out of her mother and A.J.'s newly-wedded bliss and slightly resentful for her father's sake, even though he'd been dead for five years. Then, to make matters worse, she'd developed a ridiculous crush on Will, her stepfather's grandson.
Will Cavanaugh. Rodeo darling. Sexy cowboy sought after by every cool girl in school. And while he bore absolutely no biological connection to her whatsoever, Anne couldn't shake the idea that their being together would seem slightly incestuous.
She made every effort to hide her feelings, but apparently Will guessed that she was attracted to him --or perhaps he just assumed she was, since every other girl in school adored him. A few weeks before his graduation ceremony, they'd bumped into each other on the front porch. Where he'd been headed, she could only guess, but he seemed in no hurry to leave. They shared a soda and a few laughs. Then, to her surprise, they talked.
Hungry for closeness, needing a friend, she opened her heart to him. And he opened his to her. A friendly hug led to a kiss. Her first.