Get notified when this item's price drops. (You can unsubscribe at any time.)
Email me when the price drops.
Hmm, we're not sure about this one. Check back again in a couple days, and track this price in the mean time.
Culver Daniels spent years cultivating a peaceful, orderly existence with his blacksmith shop and livery business. Then the pastor of Noelle landed upon a crazy scheme to save the town by sending for a bunch of mail-order brides. Despite his determination to remain single, Culver finds himself among those agreeing to wed. The moment he meets the beautiful gypsy woman he’s promised to marry, he realizes life will never be the same.
Widow Kezia Mirga has no desire to marry again. Yet, for the sake of her most cherished treasure, she decides to wed a man in a remote Colorado mining town. She arrives to find nothing as she expected, the town in a state of turmoil, and her intended far more handsome and charming than she imagined. Dare she dream of a future with the burly blacksmith, or should she escape back to Denver before she loses her heart?
Will true love triumph over secrets and surprises in this sweet and wholesome holiday romance?
The Dove is second in a series of 12 novellas.
His gaze traveled from Mrs. Boonesbury to the woman behind her. “And your name, Miss?”
A slight blush dusted the woman’s cheeks with pink as she lifted chocolate-colored eyes to his. Culver had always been quite partial to chocolate. He could quickly grow accustomed to staring into eyes that held such mesmerizing flecks of amber light among their glossy depths.
When she didn’t respond, he took a step closer, but Mrs. Boonesbury subtly shifted to block him from the stunning woman.
Culver moved to the right and so did the gypsy’s self-appointed guard. He shifted to the left, as did Mrs. Boonesbury. A few more steps back and forth and Culver decided the old woman was not only a fair dancer, but also the most irritating person he’d encountered in a long while. He couldn’t fathom a single reason why she’d prevent him from getting any closer to the gypsy woman, but she undoubtedly planned to do so.
Defeated, at least temporarily, Culver looked again to the dark-haired woman. “Miss? What’s your name? Who are you to marry?”
“You, Mr. Daniels,” she said in a soft, alluring voice that melted Culver’s insides and turned his brain to mush. “I’m Kezia Mirga, but my friends call me Zee.”
“You’re even more beautiful than I dreamed, Miss Mirga,” Culver said, shocked to discover his tongue joined the rebellion his heart and feet had already staged against his good sense.