Finding Home Series
Cry of the West: Hallie
Rescue on the Rio: Lilah
Missouri Challenge: Daisy
Red Rocks Trilogy: Past Present Future
Healing Woman of the Red Rocks (Past)
Song of the Red Rocks (Present)
Spirit Tree of the Red Rocks (Future) October, 2015
FANTASY ROMANCE
Shapeling Trilogy
Roth: Protector (Book 1)
Fawn: Master (Book 2)
Davide: Prince (Book 3)
Jazmine
YOUNG ADULT ROMANCE
(Verna Clay writing as Colleen Clay)
Fragile Hearts
AUDIO BOOKS
Abby: Mail Order Bride
Broken Angel
Cry of the West: Hallie
Dream Kisses
Honey Kisses
Romance on the Ranch Series
One: Wedding Day
Pastor Porter boomed, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Ann lifted a tissue to blot tears as she watched her only child, Jacob, kiss Julie Tanner, now Julie Hackstetter. Across the aisle, Julie's father and stepmother, Sage and Sarah, lovingly held hands. Sage lifted Sarah's hand to his lips and kissed it.
Pastor Porter asked the newlyweds to face the congregation. To everyone's delight, Jacob sneaked another kiss as the portly pastor loudly announced, "I now present Mr. and Mrs. Hackstetter. Please congratulate our newlyweds in the foyer and then head on over to Lazy M Ranch for the reception. Everyone's invited!"
There was a little crackle over the speaker system and then Shania Twain sang, From this Moment. The happy couple descended the few steps of the chancel platform, followed by Julie's maid of honor, Tooty Townsend, and Jacob's best man, Bobby Joe Banyon. Julie's gown, a simple strapless A-line with lace overlay, matched her easy going personality, and Jacob, in a gray cowboy tux with black vest, looked striking. The pair had insisted on a small wedding, so there were no bridesmaids or groomsmen.
Beaner, a ranch hand from the Lazy M, and now an usher in the wedding, stepped to the first aisle and offered his arm to Ann. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Sarah and Sage stepped into the aisle behind Tooty and Bobby, and Beaner led Ann behind them. The bride and groom waited just outside the entrance to the sanctuary, ready to greet their guests. Ann took a position beside her son, and Sage and Sarah stood next to her.
Mr. and Mrs. Mercer, the parents of Julie's dead mother, and Mr. and Mrs. Carter, Sarah's parents, exited the sanctuary followed by Sarah's sister, Libby, on the arm of another ranch hand, Ned Waldo. Next, Ann's parents, Abby and Bert Baxter, and her grandmother, Molly Baxter, entered the foyer. The old cowpoke, Newt Tucker, escorted Molly, who was talking a mile-a-minute and gesturing with her hands to emphasize her words. He'd craned his bony neck downward so he could hear. Ann grinned at the sight of her granny talking Newt's ear off. Of course, Newt could hold his own in spinning a tale. Between the two of them, they could probably talk nonstop for days.
Ann returned her attention to accepting congratulations from guests and tried to keep her emotions at bay—her son was married. She blinked rapidly, wishing Jerry had lived long enough to see their son wed, and dabbed at her eyes again. Jacob bent and whispered, "You okay, Mom?"
"Oh, yes, Jacob."
He looked into her eyes and read her unspoken thoughts. "I know. I wish he was here, too."
Julie stepped around Jacob and hugged her. "I love you, Mom," she said to her new mother-in-law.
"I love you, too, Julie."
For the next half hour the bride and groom and family members greeted guests. Ann was exchanging pleasantries with Sally Higginbotham, a vocalist in the wedding, when she heard a familiar voice that shifted her heartbeat into triple rhythm. She wanted to look in the direction of the voice, but kept her gaze riveted on Mrs. Higginbotham's red lipstick teeth. She smoothed a hand down her pale green chiffon-over-satin, form fitting dress, with satin bolero jacket, and hoped it didn't make her look too matronly. Sarah and Julie had assured her the color contrasted beautifully with her olive complexion and set off her hazel eyes. She hoped so.
Jackson Martinez continued speaking, "Julie and Jacob, you're a fine looking couple. After you're back from your honeymoon and settled in, I'd sure enjoy your company at the Triple T for dinner."
Jacob responded, "We'd like that, Jackson. By the way, congratulations are in order for you, too, now that you own the Triple T."
"Thanks. Tommy always said he'd give me first dibs if he ever put it up for sale, and when he did, I didn't have to think twice."
Mrs. Higginbotham moved on and Ann chanced a glance upward at Jackson. He was looking at her with a little smile creasing the corners of his mouth. Her face flooded with color. He continued talking to Jacob while still looking at her. "I'll check back in about a month. Give you time to get settled. I'd like you to come too, Annie, if you're still in town."
Ann smiled and nodded; afraid her voice would sound breathless if she spoke.
"Sounds good," said Jacob.
"It's a date," Julie agreed.
Jackson leaned over and kissed Julie's cheek. "You done good, baby girl."
"Thanks, Jackson."
The tall cowboy stepped in front of Ann. "Hello, Annie," he said, low and deep.
"Hello, Jackson. Thank you for coming to the wedding." Stupid thing to say, and damn, you do sound breathless.
His little smile turned into a grin. "I wouldn't have missed it." For a second he just looked at her. "Hey, I like your hair that darker color."
Self consciously, Ann lifted a hand to a soft curl on her shoulder. "Thank you."
"Hello, my name is Pritzy Purvis." A beautiful young blond stepped up beside Jackson and possessively snuggled her hand under his elbow, interrupting the moment. She stuck her other hand out toward Ann."
Ann accepted the woman's gesture. "I'm happy to meet you, Pritzy."
Pritzy said, "How does it feel being the mother of a grown man who has just gotten married?"
"It feels wonderful. And now I have a grown daughter, too."
There was an uneasy silence and then Jackson said, "Well, I guess we'll see you at the reception."
Pritzy gave Ann a sugar-coated smile and then looked up at Jackson, turning it into a sexy one. They moved on and the pastor's plus-sized wife stepped into their position, squeezing Ann in a bear hug that swallowed her in folds of taffeta.
Baby Kisses
Romance on the Ranch Series
One: Not an Airhead
Tooty drove her old Ford Ranger, gray in color under all the oxidation, to the front of Jacob and Julie Hackstetter's cottage. Parking in a cloud of dust, she sat for a minute and tried to calm her nerves. She was about to meet Maxwell Henry—the famous author. Sarah Tanner, Julie's stepmother, had explained his real name was Miles Brightman, and he was staying at the cottage while Julie and Jacob visited Maude and Clyde Hix in Alaska. Tooty had often heard stories about the former employees of the Lazy M Ranch and how they had struck it rich as gold prospectors. Now in their eighties and sixties, with Maude being the older, they still lived in the same cabin they'd built after moving to the wilds years earlier. Tooty understood her friends' desire to spend as much time as possible with the old-timers. They were going to have a blast.
Okay, you've stalled long enough. It's time to get the embarrassing part over.
Tooty bit her thumbnail and still didn't move to open her door. She remembered Miles from Julie and Jacob's wedding reception. He was the guy in the wheelchair. Actually, he was the hot older guy in the wheelchair. Even now, she cringed remembering their encounter. She'd gone in search of her mischievous four-year old and seen him checking out the man's wheelchair. When she'd approached, she'd heard Harris say, "Hi, my name is Harris and, hey, that's a really cool chair. Ya wanna take me for a ride?"
Rushing forward, she hadn't reached Harris in time to stop him from climbing onto
the man's lap. The startled expression on the guy's face had said everything. He wasn't used to kids. Besides that, she didn't know how severe his physical challenge was and whether Harris could injure him. When she'd reached to grab her son off his lap, he'd said, "No, leave him." After that, he'd told Harris about his wheelchair and shown him how to operate it, both manually and with battery assistance. Of course, Harris had been fascinated and oblivious to his faux pas of just climbing on the guy's lap. With a mixture of mortification and gratitude, she'd stepped to the sidelines to watch.
The man had finally said, "Well, Harris, looks like your mother is waiting for you, you better hop off now."
That's when Tooty had stepped forward. As she'd bent to help her son down, he'd glanced from her to the man and said, "Hey, I need a daddy. You wanna marry my mommy? Don't you think she's pretty?"
Tooty had looked from her son's innocent brown eyes into the man's Mediterranean blue ones and literally froze. She'd seen his shocked expression and then a slight quirk of his lips, like he was trying not to laugh. Before he could say anything, she'd jerked Harris off his lap. "I'm really sorry. My son just says whatever pops into his mind."
Harris defended himself. "But Mommy, Grammy says it too. She says I need a daddy and you need a man. What's wrong with him?"
"Ah…ah…I'm really sorry." Knowing there was no way to salvage their fiasco, she'd simply walked away carrying Harris. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life. Every cell in her body had felt on fire—even her scalp.
Shaking away the memory and inhaling a calming breath, Tooty forced her hand to the door handle. She was turning scarlet just thinking about meeting Mr. Brightman again, and she had half a mind to flip the ignition key and peel out of the driveway, never looking back. Of course, she wouldn't do that. She needed to earn money, but, more importantly, she'd never forgive herself if she turned down an opportunity to work with a famous author—an author whose every book she'd read at least twice.
* * *
Miles shifted his wheelchair so he could see out the living room window. He watched a young woman step from her battered pickup. So this was the girl with the strange first name Sarah had referred to him. Her dark, strawberry blonde hair looked familiar. When she'd almost reached the porch, recognition slammed him and he groaned. It was the girl from the wedding; the one with the cute, but rascally little boy—the boy who'd ask him to marry his mommy and become his daddy.
Stranded in Oasis
Romance in the Grand Canyon State
One: Reassignment
Veering off the U.S. 93 onto the off-ramp, Maximilian Rutherford III, ground his teeth and slammed his three quarters-of-a-million dollar RV to a halt at a stop sign with graffiti declaring, "hot as hell," and then turned onto a narrow, two lane road with dips that even an outrageously expensive RV couldn't disguise.
The next sign he passed said, "Oasis 12 miles." Staring at distant bluffs encasing flat desert of scrub brush, a scattering of mesquite and juniper trees, and plenty of cacti, he once again spewed a string of profanities at his grandfather.
Up until a week ago he'd considered his relationship with his paternal grandfather, Maximilian Rutherford I—someone he mostly saw only during management meetings because of their busy lifestyles—to be satisfactory.
He'd always called his grandfather by his shortened first name—Max. The old gentleman had never been "Grandpa" or "Gramps" to any of his grandchildren, but that was to be expected from one who ran the multi-faceted, multi-billion dollar Rutherford Acquisitions empire. There simply was no time for family get-togethers when you were globetrotting and looking for your next company to buy, overhaul, and sell to the highest bidder.
Max III, who was supposed to be a chip off the old "grandfather block," scanned the terrain before him. Being the second of June, the weather wasn't outrageously hot…yet. He hated hot weather. Grinding his jaw again, he replayed the unfortunate circumstances that had landed him in the pits of hell in the Arizona desert. Oasis, my ass.
Ten days ago he had been happily—well, maybe not happily, but studiously—performing his job as the interim CEO of their latest acquisition, a company that developed and manufactured computer chips. His job duties with Rutherford Acquisitions involved taking charge and reorganizing the acquired company for the purpose of making it attractive to buyers. It usually took one to two years before the failing corporation made enough of a turnaround to sell for a profit, and that was one reason his grandfather's latest order was so confusing.
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Damn the old man! Max had flown all night from the West Coast to the East Coast and the headquarters of his grandfather's vast empire in Manhattan after he'd been summoned. His grandfather's call had come during the first meeting of a week of meetings that had been scheduled with IT moguls—men who were key to launching this latest acquisition back into the marketplace. It had taken Max weeks to set the meetings up and when he'd tried to explain that to his grandfather, the old man had just blown it off and insisted he reschedule because his presence was mandatory in New York.
The minute Max had entered the office of Maximilian Rutherford I, he'd known his grandfather was up to something. Respectfully, he'd greeted his elder, accepted a shot of bourbon, and declined a cigar. While the old guy puffed away and talked about his latest success in the stock market, Max waited to hear what his gut feeling told him he wasn't going to like.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Max, Sr. set his cigar in his crystal ashtray, sipped his bourbon, casually leaned backward, and said, "I'm reassigning you."
Frowning, Max had leaned forward. "But sir, I'm about to close a deal that will skyrocket the value of the company in California."
The old man made a dismissive motion with his hand. "Your stepbrother can handle it. I've already reassigned him to the project."
Max shot halfway out of his seat. "What! Without even consulting me!"
Unfazed by his grandson's shout, Max, Sr. said in his most commanding voice, "Sit down, Max."
Max could feel his blood pressure rising as he sat back in his chair.
Max, Sr. stood and walked to the bank of windows overlooking Manhattan sixty-three stories below. Without explanation, he said, "As tough and mean as I am, I'll not live forever. I've been reviewing my will with my attorney and before I make final decisions as to the disposition of my company and assets after my demise, I need to know the tenacity of my heirs."
Those words gave Max pause. Was the old man dying of some disease?
Max, Sr. turned from the windows and answered his grandson's unspoken question. "No. I don't have any dreaded ailment as far as I know. But I do have a driving ambition to know what my heirs are made of. My only child, God rest his soul, wasn't cut from the same cloth as you or I. He was a tree hugger who would have driven this company into bankruptcy had he lived and inherited my estate. He wanted to support every whiney cause that crossed his desk."
Max, Sr. seemed lost in his memories and Max's wrath softened. The old man continued, "It was one of those causes that took his life. He drowned fording a river in the Amazon while heading up an expedition to save some rare bird." He shook his head.
Max had heard the story a million times, but he didn't interrupt his grandfather. As much as the old man bitched about his son's "do-gooder" ways, it was obvious he'd loved his boy. Max waited for his own fate to be revealed. He wasn't like his father. He was tough as nails, so the reason for being pulled from his latest assignment, when he was so close to success, irked and puzzled him.
Max, Sr. turned back to the bank of windows. After a moment of silence, he said, "Don't take your next assignment lightly. It will determine whether I hand the reins of my company over to you after I'm gone, or give it to your step-brother, Bertram."
At the mention of Bertram, Max's anger renewed itself. Two years older than Max, the man was an ass-and-a-half. Bertie could play the part of a loving grandson when in the presence of Max, Sr., but he w
as a thorn to Max. Max rued the day his mother had remarried to an oil magnate four years after Max II died. Bertie's father had later lost his wealth due to wrong decisions and died of a heart attack when Max was twenty.
Max, Sr. spoke again and his words sent an arrow of foreboding down Max's spine. "I'm sending you to Arizona for six months."
"What the hell is in Arizona?"
Max, Sr. turned from the window and studied his grandson. Quietly, he said, "The keys to your fate, boy."
Max squinted and waited. He supposed he could deal with six months in Phoenix. He wondered what acquisition his grandfather had purchased there.
His grandfather's next words shattered his vision of working from a high rise in the capital city.
Max, Sr. walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a paper. He handed it across the desk and Max reached for it. His grandfather said, "This is where you'll be staying in the town of Oasis, about fifty miles northwest of Phoenix."
Max's frown increased as he accepted the page that had been printed off a website with the internet address of desertprincess.com. He furrowed his brow and read the page. Was this some kind of a joke? It was an advertisement for a trailer park.
Spend your winters at Desert Princess Trailer and RV Park in beautiful Oasis, Arizona.
Max lifted confused eyes to his grandfather's. "What are you telling me?" he asked.
"I'm telling you that you're going to manage that trailer park for six months and it will decide your future with my company."
Max, who oversaw billion dollar investments and hobnobbed with the most influential personalities in the world, couldn't wrap his mind around his grandfather's instructions. He simply looked from the printout with a picture of an assortment of trailers and RVs parked in rows amidst desert sand dotted with cacti, a few scraggly trees and scrub brush, back to his grandfather. The old man reached to push a button on his intercom. "Peggy, when's my next appointment and who is it with?"
Peggy, Max's secretary since the creation of man, who looked to be that old, said in her no-nonsense voice, "You have a three-thirty with the governor of South Carolina."