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His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman
His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman
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His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman

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His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman
Judy Christenberry

Patricia Thayer

DONNA ALWARD

HIRED BY THE COWBOYAlexis Grayson is alone and pregnant, but honourable cowboy Connor Madsen seems determined to take care of her. He needs a temporary wife, so a short-term marriage will solve all their difficulties… until Alexis realises she wants a marriage for real!WEDDING BELLS AT WANDERING CREEKPI Jack Sullivan allows no one to get too close. That is until he takes on the Kingsley case. Jack has been sent to Wandering Creek on official business – business that doesn’t include falling for the striking blonde who tries to throw him off her land.COMING HOME TO THE CATTLEMANJenny’s determined to contact her long-lost dad, until one man stands in her way: her dad’s business partner, Jason Welborn. And it’s clear he’s not happy she’s come home. But feisty Jenny seems determined to win him over – at all costs!

His Perfect Bride

Hired by the Cowboy

Donna Alward

Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek

Patricia Thayer

Coming Home to the Cattleman

Judy Christenberry

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents

Cover (#ub749d350-9f3b-54e8-8ead-ee5314f2bcb7)

Title Page (#u13db786a-29a9-5ad0-b385-ce38ebce23d6)

Hired by the Cowboy (#u4f01de8a-fbdc-59e1-b593-6c13ff349742)

About the Author (#u65e1c6e5-01e3-541a-ae42-6d8dafd8bbd6)

Dedication (#u22d14a6b-af34-5c16-b3c2-782596a1b3e4)

CHAPTER ONE (#u6782c55a-c12d-57ae-81c6-c714b859f819)

CHAPTER TWO (#uf571ecee-c507-5caf-8f63-a5e3e8a5416b)

CHAPTER THREE (#ufbce3b94-2735-5e96-ac82-428f0c1717c9)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3b8a0c11-70b1-5287-872f-21775ced91c7)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u56cc03d8-5f5b-50ad-a37c-85906aae4991)

CHAPTER SIX (#u5b5b7bd8-74c7-5aaa-90a5-5d123d1eed35)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u9a2a2ce8-ad3c-5822-85e2-07a392e25c38)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u68e8a5e3-7155-532b-bea3-47f430164854)

CHAPTER NINE (#ued916a02-f37e-5b23-899b-3668f3d812aa)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Coming Home to the Cattleman (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Hired by the Cowboy (#ulink_23a8b9ff-69b2-53f7-807d-37adc2c50878)

DONNA ALWARD can’t remember a time when she didn’t love books. When her mother would take her to town, her “treat” was not clothes or candy but a trip to the bookstore. This followed through university, as she studied English Literature, writing short stories and poetry, but never attempting full-length fiction.

In 2001 her sister told her to just get out there and do it, and after completing her first manuscript she was hooked. She lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband and children, and when not writing is involved in music and volunteering at her children’s school.

To find out more about Donna, visit her webpage at www.donnaalward.com (http://www.donnaalward.com).

For Subcare—keep the faith. It does happen!

And with special thanks to Michelle Styles and

Trish Wylie for their unwavering support and guidance.

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b5a3ca1c-fbd0-56f3-9524-434d48ec3120)

“MISS? Wake up. Can you hear me?”

The deep voice came first, then Alex’s vision gradually started to clear.

“Oh, thank God. Are you all right?”

Alex’s eyes followed the sound of the voice as she looked up, dazed. Trying hard to focus, she found herself staring into the most beautiful set of brown eyes she’d ever seen. They were stunning, dark brown with golden flecks throughout, large and thickly lashed.

Men shouldn’t have eyes that pretty, she thought irrationally, realizing with a jolt that she was captured in the arms of the eyes’ owner.

“Oh, goodness!”

The eyes crinkled at the corners at her exclamation, and she felt his hands on her arm and behind her back, helping her to rise.

“Slowly, now. You fainted.”

Really? I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy being unconscious. She bit back the sarcastic retort when she saw the genuine concern in his eyes. He even made sure she was standing firmly on her feet before releasing her—and then stayed close, as if he didn’t quite trust her to remain steady.

He would have fainted too, in her condition and with this heat…and the lack of air-conditioning in the convenience store hadn’t helped much either.

“I’m so sorry,” she blustered, brushing off her pants and avoiding his eyes. It had only taken a moment, but she could even now see him completely in her mind. Not just the eyes, but thick, luscious black hair, just long enough to sink your fingers into and slightly ragged at the edges. Crisply etched lips and a large frame in a grey suit.

Someone who looked like him was so far removed from her world it was laughable, and she avoided his eyes from simple embarrassment. She stared instead at his shoes…shiny, brown leather ones, without a smudge of dirt or a blemish. A businessman’s shoes.

“No need to be sorry. Are you sure you’re all right?”

She bent to retrieve her bag and purse. The first time she’d bent to pick up her dropped crackers everything had spun and then turned black. This time she gripped the bench for support, just in case. To her dismay she realized that she’d spilled her apple juice, and it was running down a crack in the sidewalk. She folded the top over on the paper bag, picked up the juice bottle and looked around for a recycling receptacle.

“I’m fine,” she said, finally looking him in the face. Her heart skipped a beat at the worry she saw there. It had been a long time since anyone had been concerned over her. He was a complete stranger, yet his worry was clear in the wrinkle between his brows. Gratitude washed over her for his gallantry. “I haven’t even thanked you for catching me.”

“You turned white as a sheet.”

She chanced a quick look around. Any passers-by who had seen her little episode were gone, and now people went about their business, not paying any attention to them whatsoever. Another face in the crowd. That was all she was. Yet this man…Mr. GQ…had seen her distress and come to her assistance.

“I’m fine. Thanks for your help. I’m just going to sit a moment.” She coolly dismissed him; his duty was discharged.

Solicitously he stepped back to let her by, but once she’d sat, surprised her by seating himself as well. “Do you need a doctor?”

Alex laughed. Oh, she did. But a doctor couldn’t cure what was wrong with her. “No.”

The answer was definitive. By the way his shoulders straightened she knew he’d got the message loud and clear. Briefly she felt guilty for being blunt, so she offered a paltry, “But thanks again, Mr…?”

“Madsen. Connor Madsen.” He held out his hand, undeterred, inviting her to introduce herself.

She took his hand in hers. It was warm and solid and a little rough. Not a banker’s hands, as she’d thought. Working hands. Solid hands.

“Alex.”

“Just Alex?”

His eyes were boring into her, and she stared straight ahead at the office building across the street.

“Yes. Just Alex.”