"The queen of the hive needs to be cherished - and so does his lovely wife"
Reviewed by Clare O'Beara
Posted February 22, 2015
Holiday | Romance Contemporary
Austin Sweet is splitting logs outside his cabin, while
the
large dog which came with the cabin enjoys the snow. The
last thing Austin expects is for his estranged wife
Melinda
to show up at Sweet Montana Farms. They split up after
Austin's financial business collapsed, back in Chicago,
and
the lady decided she wanted a trial separation. A SWEET
MONTANA CHRISTMAS may be on the way, because when Melinda
gets out of the car she thinks her husband never looked so
good. But how can Austin trust her not to hurt him again?
And can he ever again be the good provider she says she
needs?
I enjoyed the outdoors, homey feel of this tale, with cold
crackling in the air and a glowing stove to heat the
house.
Lots of home-made crafts and foods come into the story,
including honey from the farm. Bees came with the farm,
and
the hives need careful tending to see them through the
cold
of winter. Austin learns from the bees protecting the
queen, that a woman needs to be cherished. Somehow in the
hassle and despair of the financial crash, with lawyers,
clients and banks hounding him, he forgot his scared
wife.
Good lessons can be learnt from the warm-hearted novella A
SWEET MONTANA CHRISTMAS by Roxanne Snopek, and I'll be
looking out for more of her romances.
SUMMARY
Melinda Sweet loved her husband before she learned of his
wealth and she loves him still, despite the fact that
it’s
gone. Unfortunately, while she knows the collapse of his
Chicago financial services business had nothing to do
with
him, he believes otherwise. His upbeat adjustment to
their
new – and temporary – life on his grandfather’s rundown
honey farm is a foil to cover the burden of failure. She
wasn’t expecting to throw – in five weeks – the
traditional
Sweet Christmas Open House, but it’s a good earning
opportunity and how hard could it be? Austin Sweet is determined to make his wife proud of him
again. But he also wants to erase the sting of shame he
feels from his parents, to whom he owes a debt of
gratitude
for arranging for this caretaking job. Getting paid to
fix
up this disaster is better than living in their basement,
sure. But what does he know about bees? Or fixing broken
plumbing? Or cleaning a chimney? But when Austin’s grandfather gives him the farm as a
Christmas gift, there’s only one response. Accepting the
gift will secure a future that will make his wife even
more
unhappy than he already is. Refusing the gift will
finalize
the rift between him and his family, but he’d rather lose
them than Melinda. Then he discovers she’s spared him the
choice. Austin’s not-so-Sweet side rears up as he
determines
that he’s done trying to make everyone happy. He’ll get
his
wife back, no matter what. And they’ll decide their
future
together.
ExcerptOne of my favorite scenes in this story in when Austin
attempts to wash his wife’s hair. The hot-water tank is
out of commission and the facilities are, shall we say,
rustic. But he wants so badly to make Melinda less
miserable and so he does this clumsy, thoughtful thing
that ends up being a bit of a mess. Those are, I think,
the most romantic gestures; not the ones that work
perfectly, but the ones that involve risk, the chance of
failure, of being laughed at. ** Austin set the aluminum tub on the butcher-block table in
the kitchen. "Come here," he said. Melinda looked at him with caution, but he could feel
excitement, thrumming like a field, around her like a
field. Fear and temptation. She stepped up to him and he handed her a towel. He wanted to unzip that thick hoodie and pull it off. To
lift up the shirt beneath, little by little, revealing
her creamy torso by inches, until he could see the lower
swelling of her breasts. "Eyes up, big guy." He jumped. "Sorry." He laughed shakily. "Habit." He gestured to the chair. "Sit. Put this around your
neck. I'd ask you to take off your top, but..." To his surprise, she slipped out of her hoodie.
Underneath, she wore a tank top and it was fantastically
obvious that she was braless. Her breasts looked larger, the nipples pink and straining
through the thin fabric. He adjusted his pants. This was going to be harder than
he thought, pun intended. "Are you going to wash my hair, Austin?" She asked it in a smoky voice that might have come
straight out of an old western saloon. Low and slow and
smooth as honey. "I am." He helped her lean back and draped her hair into
the small tub. "Comfortable?" "I'm okay." He scooped a bowlful of water and poured it over her
head, being careful not to get any in her eyes. She groaned, deep in her throat, a sound that sent more
blood rushing southward, a sound he'd only heard when she
was in his arms, sweaty, sated and limp with pleasure. He stroked her hair, lifting it and continuing to pour,
getting every bit saturated. Then he squirted a handful of shampoo and began massaging
it into her head. He'd never done this before and water
splashed onto the table. A bit of foam dripped onto her throat, then slid slowly
toward the neckline of her tank top. She lifted her hand
and caught it, without looking. The sight of her fingers,
caressing her skin, so close to those rosy nipples... "Ow!" The towel beneath her neck slipped, allowing the sharp
edge of the tub to bite into her skin. "Damn, sorry, baby," he said. He tried to tug it up but
his soapy hands slipped. He bumped the tub with his elbow
and suds splashed onto the table. Way harder than he expected. In every way. Suddenly he was aware of Mel, giggling. She put her hand
to her mouth, trying to hide it, to let him carry on. Then she grasped the back of her head and sat up,
dragging the towel with it, laughing freely. He felt like an idiot. Washing a woman's hair was
supposed to be a sensual thing, not a comedy show. She leaned forward, laughing with her whole body now, and
he felt the humor tickle him, too. "That," she said, between gasps, "was the single best
shampoo... I've ever had." "Liar," he said. But her joy unlocked something inside
him and before he knew it, the two of them were bracing
themselves against each other, bent over at the waist,
howling, while water dripped onto the floor and Mel's
still-soapy hair sagged onto her shoulders. "We're going to have to heat more water," said Mel, when
she got her voice back. "I need a rinse." Her face was flushed and her now mostly-transparent tank
top had slipped off one shoulder. Dark hair, red lips,
those pink nipples. She looked like a strawberry sundae,
with chocolate drizzle and whipped cream on top and yeah,
he wanted to eat her up. "There's enough hot water," he said, taking her hand, "to
do this properly."
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