Part 1 (1/2)

Will And The Headstrong Female.

Ferrarella, Marie.

HOW TO MAKE FIREWORKS.

1. Take one headstrong single mother who has sworn off relations.h.i.+ps.

2. Send her cras.h.i.+ng (literally!) into one very s.e.xy, very single, laid-back cowboy.

3. Add heroine's endearing father and her adorable little daughter-both of whom are easily won over by the cowboy's charms.

4. Throw in the Shady Lady Ranch, complete with the cowboy's lovable-not to mention matchmaking-parents.

5. Place headstrong female and hunky cowboy under an irresistible Montana big-sky sunset-alone, of course!

6. Sit back-and enjoy!.

Dear Reader, I've never had a twin, but I can see how much fun it might be to have someone who looks just like you but leads a completely different life, a life you could share if the two of you decided to trade places for a while. For Mari Lamott, things are a bit more complicated than that, though. The heroine of Kelly Jamison's The Law and Miss Lamott has a twin who's nothing but trouble, so taking her place brings trouble in its wake. Of course, it also brings handsome detective Patrick Keegan-and getting together with a man that gorgeous is certainly worth a bit of trouble. Read this delightful book and see if you don't agree with me.

This month also brings the newest installment of award-winning Marie Ferrarella's latest miniseries, THE CUTLERS OF THE SHADY LADY RANCH. In Will and the Headstrong Female you can watch a rancher with a strong protective streak, Will Cutler, clash with an independent woman-Denise Cavanaugh-who comes driving into town intending to drive right out again once the carnival she runs is over. But somehow she ends up staying-and you'll be as glad as she is that she did.

Have fun with this month's selections, and don't forget to come back to Yours Truly next month for two more books about unexpectedly meeting-and marryingl-Mr. Right.

Yours, Leslie J. Wainger.

To Anna Villareal, with deepest regrets that it took so long.

Dear Reader, I relate pretty strongly to the heroine in this story. Not that I've ever driven a big rig (in my case, the tinier the car, the better) or put together carnival rides (I draw the line at jungle gyms). But Denise is headstrong, and so am I.

Don't believe me? Just ask my husband...my kids...my brothers...my friends...my agent I'm not ashamed of it. Being headstrong and stubborn has gotten me where I am today, with a career and a s.e.xy husband I love. If you want it, don't wait for it to come to you. Go out and get it You'll feel wonderful once you do.

Will Cutler did. Don't let his quiet exterior fool you. Quiet people can be just as stubborn as talkative ones. Will saw Denise Cavanaugh and decided she was the one for him. She had other ideas, but he refused to be put off. In essence, he ”outheadstronged” her, and my hunch is that sh.e.l.l be eternally grateful he did.

Hope this book brightens your day.

All my love.

1.

Don't you be the one to miss out on Serendipity's Annual Carnival. Bring the whole family and stay the day. Dozens of rides and attractions await you.

Denise Cavanaugh's hands s.h.i.+fted slightly on the wheel of the big-rig she was driving as she glanced over to see her six-year-old carefully fold the flyer. It was going to be the latest addition in her collection. She had started the collection for Audra when her daughter was first born. Now that she was, in Audra's words, ”a big girl,” Audra kept up the collection herself.

There was a flyer from every single carnival and fair they'd hit. Right now, the flyers' main attraction were all the different pretty colors. In time, Denise was sure, the little girl would see the flyers for what they were. Memories. A road map detailing the path of their lives.

Tucking the flyer away under her seat, Audra impatiently began waving her short legs out in front of her.

”Are we there yet?”

The question wiggled its way in between the low, mournful words coming from the singer on the radio. It prevented Denise from being swallowed up by the almost hypnotic stupor that was threatening to engulf her at any moment.

Denise smiled at her daughter's question. A question probably echoed by children of all ages since before the first covered wagon had ever crossed over the Rockies. Certainly before the battered big-rig she was driving had traversed Route 12 from Wyoming, on its way to Serendipity, Montana.

Nostalgia whispered along the outskirts of her mind, softening her smile even further. Denise could remember a time, not really all that long ago, when she'd piped up with the same restless, eternal question, undoubtedly driving her father crazy.

Then it had been her father behind the wheel of the lead big-rig with her looking impatiently out the window, waiting for the world to have something to show her besides miles of open nothingness.

Denise glanced to her right. Now her father was in the pa.s.senger seat, looking out, with Audra sandwiched between them.

Maybe sandwiched wasn't quite the right word. Audra was slight for her age, as she had been. There was more than enough room for the six-year-old to sit comfortably, no matter how long the journey. But Denise knew that it wasn't lack of s.p.a.ce that made her daughter so fidgety. It was the monotony of travel, of waiting to get somewhere. Anywhere.

Even traveling with a carnival could get old, if you did it all the time. They were like turtles, Denise mused. With their homes always at their backs. There was comfort in that. Immense comfort. This way, home was never far away. You always knew where to find it But Audra was too young to understand that just yet.

She would, soon enough, Denise thought.

Denise let go of the wheel long enough to cover Audra's small hand with her own. She squeezed it gently.

”Almost, baby,” she a.s.sured her. ”We're almost there.”

At least, she added silently, if her calculations were on target.

Audra wriggled, pulling her hand away. ”Don't call me baby.” Her lower lip stuck out in a petulant pout, negating the validity of her words. ”I'm not a baby.”

Denise tried very hard to erase the smile from her lips. Audra was in such a hurry to grow up just as she'd been when she was Audra's age. And she'd had a definite goal in mind. She had wanted to grow up to be a carnival performer. That was when there had been a carnival to perform in, before things began to fall apart.

”Sorry,” she said in her best apologetic voice-a voice that was utterly fresh since she rarely apologized for anything. ”I keep forgetting. You're an old lady of six now.”

Denise caught her father's eye over Audra's baby fine blond hair and saw him wink at her. He was remembering, too, Denise thought Remembering better times, when the two of them had ridden like this, with a full carnival behind them, not just the sh.e.l.l. But the carnival rides were all that was left of what had once been Cavanaugh's Carnival. The years and harder times had slowly stripped them of their family of performers until only this bare skeleton crew, the rigs they drove and the rides remained.

Like tiny nuggets of gold at the bottom of the miner's pan after the silt had been washed away. That's the way her father had described those who had remained each time their numbers shrank a little more.

Tate Cavanaugh was an incurable optimist. She, on the other hand, had been cured.

Royally.

The steady rocking rhythm of the cab as they drove made drowsiness difficult for Denise to fight off. She widened her eyes, willing them to stay in that position. Or, at least open.

Still, it was a good life, she thought doggedly as she gripped the large wheel harder. A good life with no boundaries to hem her in. And if she didn't like a place, well, they'd be someplace else soon enough. There was always someplace else.

That was what was so great about this country, Denise thought Its endless supply of someplace else to be.

It was obvious that today, they wouldn't be there soon enough for Audra's taste. Denise glanced again at her fidgeting daughter. July was a bear almost anywhere. The heat and humidity was making Audraedgy.