Lazy Days (65 page)

Sage
entered the kitchen with a four year old twin under each arm. "I think the
two of you need to tell Mommy what you've done."

Sarah
glanced at her husband who was trying, but failing, to maintain a stern look. A
grin threatened to expose his disciplinary action as being totally faked. She
looked from Preston's apprehensive expression to Toby's wide smile.

Sage
continued, "Seems they were watching Ann decorate the dorm for Julie and
Jacob's wedding reception tomorrow and wanted to recreate the crepe paper look
in our bedroom…with toilet paper."

"Yeah,
Mommy, it's beautiful. We covered everything," Toby said proudly.

"We'll
clean it up," Preston offered.

Sarah's
mouth gaped.

"What
should we do about these boys, Sarah?"

 Sarah
glanced at their sons and then back at Sage. "Umm, I think Daddy should
demonstrate the technique of cleaning up toilet paper." Unable to keep a
straight face, she covered her smile with her hand.

Sage
set the boys on the floor and pointed in the direction of the bedroom.
"You boys start cleaning up the mess while Daddy discusses something
important with Mommy."

Grateful
for their reprieve the boys ran off. Sarah heard Toby say, "I told you she
wouldn't be mad." Preston pushed Toby and Toby pushed back. She looked at
Sage and waited to hear what was so important.

He
leaned in, "I was thinking that after the wedding we could steal away for
a few days and pretend we're on our honeymoon again."

Sarah
leaned back. "Oh, so you have to
pretend
you're on a honeymoon with
me? What happened to the real thing?"

Sage
didn't miss a beat. "How about we
pretend
first, and then
follow-through with the real deal? That way we get to do it twice." He
grinned and walked to the door, but turned to look back. "In fact, as soon
as our bedroom is free of toilet paper, I'm putting the boys down for a nap. I
think it would be a good time to test the waters of pretending versus reality.
See which one we like best."

Sarah's
heart hammered. "I'll help with the clean up."

Thank you for reading Book One in the
Romance
on the Ranch Series.
After introducing Ann Hackstetter in
Dream Kisses,
I knew she and Jackson Martinez had to have their own book,
Honey Kisses.
I adore Jackson, and come to find out, he adores Mrs. Hackstetter. How they
come to their happily-ever-after is fraught with heartache, mystery, deception,
misunderstandings, and a secret thrown into the mix.

In
Baby Kisses,
Tooty Townsend is all grown
up and has her hands full as a single mom trying to make a living and raise her
four year old son, Harris. Reclusive author, Miles Brightman, pen name Maxwell
Henry, is looking to hire a personal assistant while in Colorado finishing up
his latest suspense thriller. Sarah Tanner recommended Tooty for the job and
Tooty's swallowing her pride to apply. Her mischievous little boy met Mr.
Brightman at her best friend's wedding and asked him if he wanted to become his
daddy.

As for
Candy Kisses,
the saga continues,
only with a most unlikely heroine. I think you will be surprised to discover
who she is.

In
Christmas Kisses,
Cecelia Brightman,
sister of Miles from
Baby Kisses,
is about to discover the
happily-ever-after that's always eluded her, but only after continued patience
with an uncooperative hero and his son, and, of course, Christmas magic.

Read on for an excerpt not only of
Honey
Kisses,
but also a new series that will be released in January, 2014,
called
Oasis, Arizona.
The first book is titled
Stranded in Oasis.

Chapter
One Excerpt

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 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 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 like to invite you to 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. 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 her 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.

Chapter
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 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
saw only during management meetings because of the old man's penchant for
privacy—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 sale
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 made 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, leaned forward, and said, "I'm reassigning you."

Frowning, Max had also 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 forest 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 was
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 fifteen.

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."

Max, Sr. stood. "Son, it's nice seeing you,
but I've got some research to catch up on before meeting with the governor.
He's looking for assistance with their transportation issues and I may have
just the company to fit the bill."

Max, Jr. couldn't make his legs move. Softly, he
said, "Sir, you're joking, right? You're not really sending me to oversee
a trailer park?" He even managed a chuckle.

His grandfather, looking completely serious, replied,
"What part of 'head off to Arizona' don't you understand?"