"A twenty-first century take on the sweet boy-meets-girl romance."
Reviewed by Maria Munoz
Posted July 17, 2011
Romance Contemporary | Romance Series
Texans are once again invading the small town of Thunder
Canyon in this tale of the unexpected courtship between
Zane, a country singer in hiding, and Jeannette, a
small-town single mom. You will thoroughly enjoy the third
installment of Karen Rose Smith's Montana Mavericks: Here
Come the Texans series. HIS COUNTRY CINDERELLA is a
twenty-first century take on the sweet boy-meets-girl
romance. Jeannette is independent and confident, able to
take care of herself yet open to a chance at love. Zane is
strong yet vulnerable, loving towards both Jeannette and her
son. I have no doubt you will be rooting for this family in
the making. Jeannette Williams, working 2 jobs to support herself and
her young son, is sure she'll be fired when she is caught by
her reclusive employer cleaning up a mess long after she
should have been gone. Instead, she finds kindness and an
instant attraction. She doesn't immediately recognize Zane
Gunther, the country music star who disappeared from the
spotlight when a tragic accident after a concert resulted in
the death of a young fan. Reeling from the guilt and
constant media attention, Zane has taken refuge in
anonymity, staying on his rented property in Thunder Canyon
and avoiding human contact. Having met Jeannette and her
son Jonah, Zane finds that being alone no longer satisfies
and he can't resist the allure of this loving family. Can a
wounded superstar and an independent small-town woman find a
way to make love work?
SUMMARY
Country singer Zane Gunther once entertained fans with his
down-home, heartfelt songs. But a tragedy at one of his
concerts has turned him into a hermit. The gift of music
has left him.
Can a resilient single mom give him back that gift along
with her love?
ExcerptChapter OneJeannette Williams hurriedly pushed the vacuum cleaner
into the closet and closed the door, then nervously
tightened the band on her ponytail. She was frazzled. More
frazzled than when she had to run after her four-and-a-half
year old son. If she didn't finish her duties at this
mountain-top log home by four o'clock, she could get fired.
In the kitchen she seemed to be all thumbs as she poured
expensive ground coffee into a canister. Suddenly her
fingers slipped on the glossy bag and the grounds spilled
over the counter and onto the floor.
Jeannette was used to rolling with the punches and
picking up the pieces. She'd had to do that after her
fiancé died before Jonah was born. But today, knowing she
still had an evening's worth of work in a restaurant she
didn't like, she almost felt defeated. Still, defeat wasn't
in her vocabulary. Jonah was her focus.
She hurried to the closet, found a dustpan and brush and
fell to her knees in the kitchen, cleaning up the
ceramic-tiled floor.
When she heard a noise outside, she glanced up at the
kitchen door the moment that it opened. A tall man with a
black Stetson stood in the doorway, looking as startled to
see her as she was to see him. His jaw was covered with
what looked like a week's worth of beard stubble. His
cheeks were gaunt. His chambray shirt was tucked into blue
jeans, but the sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong
forearms. His brown boots were dusty. For an eternal
moment she gazed into his green eyes. He looked so...sad.
A second later she thought she must be mistaken because they
were snapping with impatience and annoyance.
Her words came out in a rush. "I'm sorry I'm still here.
I'll be gone in a few minutes. I was a little late getting
here and I was just ready to leave when the coffee spilled—"
"Just leave," he said gruffly.
"Really," she insisted, "I'll just be a few minutes."
"Go on," he commanded. "I'll do it myself."
She knew from her instructions that he valued his
privacy, that he was a solitary man who didn't want to be
disturbed. Tears came to her eyes as she blinked fast to
keep them from falling. Wouldn't that just be altogether
humiliating? She didn't even cry at the lewd comments some
of the customers made at LipSmackin' Ribs. But this man's
sadness, demeanor and penetrating gaze shook her.
Still...although he was obviously angry with her, there was
something in his bearing, something underlying the gruffness
in his voice, something in those green eyes that...appealed
to her. She was going crazy, she knew she was. A tear did
slip from her eye and rolled down her cheek.
Her mountain man, obviously seeing her distress, blew out
a breath, closed the door and came over to where she knelt.
He was over six feet, so broad-shouldered, so...virile.
A little tremor ran through her and she wasn't exactly
sure where it came from. He was studying her as if he was
trying to figure something out.
Then he crouched down beside her. "I'll help you clean
up the mess."
That she hadn't expected. But as she'd learned long ago,
both the good things and the troubling things in life were
usually unexpected. For a few moments, silence trembled
between them as she used the brush, and he slid one very
large hand with long, tapered fingers across the
rust-colored tile, pushing coffee grounds into the dustpan.
She had to make another stab at saving her job. "I need
this job. I have a son. I'll buy more coffee." In her
effort to explain again, she peeked at his profile. It
seemed a tad familiar, though it really couldn't be—
His hand brushed hers. She felt the tingle of contact to
the tip of her ponytail.
Suddenly she was looking into those green eyes once more
and falling...falling...falling. "Sorry," she murmured
again, feeling like a total idiot. When was the last time
she'd been this clumsy? This scattered? This...attracted
to a man?
She shook her head as if to clear it, remembering Ed and
the accident and all her fiancé had tried to do for them.
Maybe trying to juggle two jobs was affecting her the same
way it had affected him.
"I didn't pick up the tip you left." She swallowed hard.
"I won't take it. If you have extra things you'd like me to
do next time, just leave a list." She knew she sounded
frantic and breathless, but she was. She wished he'd say
something. Before she thought better of it, she clasped his
forearm. "I really need this job."
His skin was tanned and hot and taut. And she could feel
the brown hairs under her fingertips. Heavens, she was
losing it!
She released his arm and just as she thought he was never
going to speak to her, he finally said, "It's okay.
Accidents happen. I should have checked the drive for your
car when I got back from hiking, but you've always cleared
out before I returned."
That's the way he wanted it. She could tell.
"This won't happen again," she promised.
With most of the coffee in the dustpan now, he took the
brush and pan from her hands and stood with it. He strode
to the closet, opened it and poured the coffee into the
trash can inside.
Then he dusted off his hands and turned to face her.
"We'll forget all this happened. It'll be our secret—under
one condition."
Jeannette rose to her feet and had to tilt her chin up to
meet his eyes. His one condition made her wary. Just what
did he expect in return? As hunky as he was, she was not
about to—
A half smile tilted the man's lips, as if he could read
her mind. "Just don't tell anyone you saw me here."
Relief flooded Jeannette. Yet maybe there was just a
little disappointment mixed in. In that moment he'd
mentioned a condition, she'd imagined his strong arms around
her! But checking his expression again, she could see he
was serious.
"I won't tell anyone," she vowed.
Tilting his head, he held out a hand to her to seal the
deal. She took it and was immediately affected by her
proximity to him, the fall-air, man-smell of him, the skin
contact that had already shaken her before. His grip was
firm, though the press of his fingers was gentle. Her
breath caught. Her heart raced. For propriety's sake, she
pulled away.
Altogether flustered now, she gestured to the floor.
"Are you sure you don't want me to wash it up?"
"I'm sure."
Although for a few minutes she'd felt a connection
to
him, now he wanted her gone. She could do "gone" if it
meant holding on to her job. Quickly she snatched her keys
and purse from the counter.
But the tall, well-built man's voice stopped her.
"What's your name?"
"Jeannette. Jeannette Williams."
"You forgot something, Jeannette." He handed her the
bill that had been tucked under the coffee canister.
"I don't deserve it."
"Sure, you do. A little spilled coffee doesn't wipe
out
all your cleaning sessions and grocery-buying that have made
my life easier."
She thought of Jonah and the apartment they'd moved into
a few months ago. She thought of the bills stacked on her
table, and she took the money from this enigmatic man's
hand.
Then she fled his house, wondering if he ever used the
silver SUV in his garage...wondering how he could stay on
that mountain alone.
She considered her son again, and her job at LipSmackin'
Ribs. She'd do whatever she had to do for Jonah, no matter
how hard it was.
As she drove down the deserted, bumpy, unpaved road
hoping she didn't get a flat tire, she remembered her
mountain man's fleeting smile. Her heart beat faster all
over again.
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