Patricia Johns

Her Cowboy Boss


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      A SIMMERING ROMANCE

      Avery Southerly has finally met her biological father...sort of. Instead of properly introducing herself, she took a job as cook at her dad’s ranch in Hope, Montana. There’s just one problem: Avery can’t cook! Luckily ranch manager Hank Granger agrees to help, and things quickly begin heating up in the kitchen.

      But romance is not on the menu—Hank could be fired for fraternizing with an employee, and Avery is only in town to get answers. Then she’s headed home to Kansas, where she truly belongs. Hank is determined to help Avery discover the truth about her past. Yet the more time they spend together, all he can see is the future. He just needs to help Avery do the same!

      “Why are you really in Hope?” he asked.

      She was silent, and for a moment he thought she might not answer. Then she said, “My mom left Hope pregnant and never came back. I never knew my dad, but I’d like to get to know him, if I get the chance.”

      Her dad... Had she applied for the only job available to buy herself a little more time in town...or did she think Mr. Harmon was her father? He had questions, but she was turning away again.

      “Good night, Hank,” she called softly over her shoulder. “See you at breakfast.”

      He waited until she got inside before he headed back toward the road. He was jaded from a messy divorce and she was looking for a dad she’d never met. It was the reality check he needed. Attraction was one thing, but he liked to be realistic. He was her boss, and if he let those lines get blurred, he’d lose his job, smear his reputation and find himself back down at the bottom of the heap on another ranch.

      Dear Reader,

      My husband asked me to marry him after two weeks. We’ve been married twelve years now, and the other day, I was chattering about something and I said, “But you didn’t plan that proposal, right?” He gave me a funny look and said, “Of course I planned it.”

      And while a two-week romance might sound like a spontaneous thing, he’d walked me to that fountain on that summer night because he wanted to ask me to marry him. And I only just figured that out!

      As a romance novelist, I’m often asked if my books are “realistic.” And I have to say—yes! I write what I believe, and I believe in love that lasts and men who commit. In my humble opinion, forever is not too much to ask for.

      If you’d like to connect with me, you can find me on Facebook or at my website, patriciajohnsromance.com.

      Patricia Johns

      Her Cowboy Boss

      Patricia Johns

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      PATRICIA JOHNS writes from Alberta, Canada. She has her Hon. BA in English literature and currently writes for Harlequin’s Love Inspired, Western Romance and Heartwarming lines. You can find her at patriciajohnsromance.com.

      To my husband—he’s the best choice I ever made!

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      So this is my dad.

      Avery Southerly shook Louis Harmon’s calloused hand, suppressing a wince at his too-tight grasp. He was in his midforties with a potbelly and a white cowboy hat that shaded his heat-reddened face. His dark eyes were kind, and he gave her a cordial nod. He’d only have been nineteen when she was born, but somehow, she’d always imagined her father looking older than this.

      With a quick look around the property, she could tell that he ran a clean ranch. The front yard had been recently mowed, and the drive was clear of vehicles. The fence that separated yard from pasture was well maintained, and she could make out some horses grazing in the distance. Farther off she could hear the growl of a tractor’s engine on the grass-scented June breeze. She’d have found this place relaxing if she weren’t so wound up.

      “Avery, you said?” He released her hand, and she waited for some sort of recognition to dawn. It didn’t.

      “Avery Southerly.”

      He