New Release -- The Christmas Bride from Sylvia McDaniel
November 7, 2013
Matchmaking mother, Eugenia Burnett, has gotten what she wants. Her three
sons are married and she has three grandchildren, with the fourth on the way.
But she hasn't given up her matchmaking ways. Now she's matching lonely widows
and widowers. Until one widower, Wyatt Jones, let's her know that he's not
interested in any of the women she's sending him, except her. Sworn never to
remarry, she doesn't want a husband. But Wyatt wants Eugenia.
The door to the café opened, the cold wind slamming it against the
wall. The
restaurant grew quiet with the sudden entrance, and Eugenia turned to see who
was making such a racket.
Wyatt Jones stood in the doorway, his muscular frame filling the
opening. His
cowboy hat sat at an angle on top of his head, and his large brown eyes scanned
the room.
In his hand, he carried a duffle bag.
Eugenia tried to ignore the big man as he strolled through the
doorway and
removed his Stetson.
Their gazes locked across the room, and he smiled, his full lips
turning up in
a grin that made her body soften and her heart give an extra little ca-thunk.
He spoke to the waitress, but his gaze never wavered from Eugenia.
Uh-oh. A tingle of nerves zinged through her bones. This couldn't be
good.
His boots made a rhythmic thump, thump, thump on the wooden floor as
he walked
with a determined stride straight toward her, his bag in hand, his spurs
jingling. Nervously, she licked her lips.
Myrtle's back faced the door, and she continued to blather about
something. But
Eugenia couldn't seem to focus on the words. All she could see was this
handsome cowboy walking her way. She couldn't stop staring at him. She knew he
was coming for her.
She'd already sent several women his way, and she didn't think he
was here to
thank her for curing his loneliness.
Wyatt stopped at their table, touching the rim of his hat as he
glanced at
Myrtle. "Morning Mrs. Sanders. Nice to see you."
He pivoted to Eugenia, his brown eyes dancing with merriment.
Staring into
those earthy eyes, a warm flush settled over her like a blanket. He opened the
bag, withdrew a casserole dish, and laid it on the table. He took a second dish
out and placed it alongside the first one, and then another, and
another.
Oh dear.
When he finished, six clean, empty casserole dishes sat in front of
her.
His mouth turned up in that slow, lazy grin that burned a sizzle
along her
spine. Why did this man make her feel like she'd raced her grandchildren around
the yard and couldn't catch her breath? Why did this man make her more nervous
than a virgin on her wedding day? Why did this man have her wondering how his
lips would feel against her own?
"Eugenia," he said in that deep drawl that sent shivers skittering over
her. "You've been mighty busy, sending women out to my house. You've kept me
and my men well fed the last couple of weeks."
"Glad I could help," she said, her voice sounding breathy and
soft.
He leaned in close and put his hands on either side of her,
effectively pinning
her in the chair. She felt the urge to jump up and run, but resisted. She sat
there, stared him in the eye and refused to back down. No longer would she back
down to any man. Never again.
"While I appreciate the effort, I'm not taking the bait. There's
only one woman
in this town that I'm interested in pursuing to become my wife." The deep
timbre of his voice was low and commanding.
"And pray tell, who would that be?" she asked, knowing she would
have him
hitched as soon as possible.