Will And The Headstrong Female.

Ferrarella, Marie.

HOW TO MAKE FIREWORKS.

1. Take one headstrong single mother who has sworn off relationships.

2. Send her crashing (literally!) into one very s.e.xy, very single, laid-back cowboy.

3. Add heroine's endearing father and her adorable little daughter-both of whom are easily won over by the cowboy's charms.

4. Throw in the Shady Lady Ranch, complete with the cowboy's lovable-not to mention matchmaking-parents.

5. Place headstrong female and hunky cowboy under an irresistible Montana big-sky sunset-alone, of course!

6. Sit back-and enjoy!.

Dear Reader, I've never had a twin, but I can see how much fun it might be to have someone who looks just like you but leads a completely different life, a life you could share if the two of you decided to trade places for a while. For Mari Lamott, things are a bit more complicated than that, though. The heroine of Kelly Jamison's The Law and Miss Lamott has a twin who's nothing but trouble, so taking her place brings trouble in its wake. Of course, it also brings handsome detective Patrick Keegan-and getting together with a man that gorgeous is certainly worth a bit of trouble. Read this delightful book and see if you don't agree with me.

This month also brings the newest installment of award-winning Marie Ferrarella's latest miniseries, THE CUTLERS OF THE SHADY LADY RANCH. In Will and the Headstrong Female you can watch a rancher with a strong protective streak, Will Cutler, clash with an independent woman-Denise Cavanaugh-who comes driving into town intending to drive right out again once the carnival she runs is over. But somehow she ends up staying-and you'll be as glad as she is that she did.

Have fun with this month's selections, and don't forget to come back to Yours Truly next month for two more books about unexpectedly meeting-and marryingl-Mr. Right.

Yours, Leslie J. Wainger.

To Anna Villareal, with deepest regrets that it took so long.

Dear Reader, I relate pretty strongly to the heroine in this story. Not that I've ever driven a big rig (in my case, the tinier the car, the better) or put together carnival rides (I draw the line at jungle gyms). But Denise is headstrong, and so am I.

Don't believe me? Just ask my husband...my kids...my brothers...my friends...my agent I'm not ashamed of it. Being headstrong and stubborn has gotten me where I am today, with a career and a s.e.xy husband I love. If you want it, don't wait for it to come to you. Go out and get it You'll feel wonderful once you do.

Will Cutler did. Don't let his quiet exterior fool you. Quiet people can be just as stubborn as talkative ones. Will saw Denise Cavanaugh and decided she was the one for him. She had other ideas, but he refused to be put off. In essence, he "outheadstronged" her, and my hunch is that sh.e.l.l be eternally grateful he did.

Hope this book brightens your day.

All my love.

1.

Don't you be the one to miss out on Serendipity's Annual Carnival. Bring the whole family and stay the day. Dozens of rides and attractions await you.

Denise Cavanaugh's hands shifted slightly on the wheel of the big-rig she was driving as she glanced over to see her six-year-old carefully fold the flyer. It was going to be the latest addition in her collection. She had started the collection for Audra when her daughter was first born. Now that she was, in Audra's words, "a big girl," Audra kept up the collection herself.

There was a flyer from every single carnival and fair they'd hit. Right now, the flyers' main attraction were all the different pretty colors. In time, Denise was sure, the little girl would see the flyers for what they were. Memories. A road map detailing the path of their lives.

Tucking the flyer away under her seat, Audra impatiently began waving her short legs out in front of her.

"Are we there yet?"

The question wiggled its way in between the low, mournful words coming from the singer on the radio. It prevented Denise from being swallowed up by the almost hypnotic stupor that was threatening to engulf her at any moment.

Denise smiled at her daughter's question. A question probably echoed by children of all ages since before the first covered wagon had ever crossed over the Rockies. Certainly before the battered big-rig she was driving had traversed Route 12 from Wyoming, on its way to Serendipity, Montana.

Nostalgia whispered along the outskirts of her mind, softening her smile even further. Denise could remember a time, not really all that long ago, when she'd piped up with the same restless, eternal question, undoubtedly driving her father crazy.

Then it had been her father behind the wheel of the lead big-rig with her looking impatiently out the window, waiting for the world to have something to show her besides miles of open nothingness.

Denise glanced to her right. Now her father was in the pa.s.senger seat, looking out, with Audra sandwiched between them.

Maybe sandwiched wasn't quite the right word. Audra was slight for her age, as she had been. There was more than enough room for the six-year-old to sit comfortably, no matter how long the journey. But Denise knew that it wasn't lack of s.p.a.ce that made her daughter so fidgety. It was the monotony of travel, of waiting to get somewhere. Anywhere.

Even traveling with a carnival could get old, if you did it all the time. They were like turtles, Denise mused. With their homes always at their backs. There was comfort in that. Immense comfort. This way, home was never far away. You always knew where to find it But Audra was too young to understand that just yet.

She would, soon enough, Denise thought.

Denise let go of the wheel long enough to cover Audra's small hand with her own. She squeezed it gently.

"Almost, baby," she a.s.sured her. "We're almost there."

At least, she added silently, if her calculations were on target.

Audra wriggled, pulling her hand away. "Don't call me baby." Her lower lip stuck out in a petulant pout, negating the validity of her words. "I'm not a baby."

Denise tried very hard to erase the smile from her lips. Audra was in such a hurry to grow up just as she'd been when she was Audra's age. And she'd had a definite goal in mind. She had wanted to grow up to be a carnival performer. That was when there had been a carnival to perform in, before things began to fall apart.

"Sorry," she said in her best apologetic voice-a voice that was utterly fresh since she rarely apologized for anything. "I keep forgetting. You're an old lady of six now."

Denise caught her father's eye over Audra's baby fine blond hair and saw him wink at her. He was remembering, too, Denise thought Remembering better times, when the two of them had ridden like this, with a full carnival behind them, not just the sh.e.l.l. But the carnival rides were all that was left of what had once been Cavanaugh's Carnival. The years and harder times had slowly stripped them of their family of performers until only this bare skeleton crew, the rigs they drove and the rides remained.

Like tiny nuggets of gold at the bottom of the miner's pan after the silt had been washed away. That's the way her father had described those who had remained each time their numbers shrank a little more.

Tate Cavanaugh was an incurable optimist. She, on the other hand, had been cured.

Royally.

The steady rocking rhythm of the cab as they drove made drowsiness difficult for Denise to fight off. She widened her eyes, willing them to stay in that position. Or, at least open.

Still, it was a good life, she thought doggedly as she gripped the large wheel harder. A good life with no boundaries to hem her in. And if she didn't like a place, well, they'd be someplace else soon enough. There was always someplace else.

That was what was so great about this country, Denise thought Its endless supply of someplace else to be.

It was obvious that today, they wouldn't be there soon enough for Audra's taste. Denise glanced again at her fidgeting daughter. July was a bear almost anywhere. The heat and humidity was making Audraedgy.

It wasn't doing all that much for her, either. Denise sighed. She, too, wished that they were "there" already. Even with the windows in the cab wideopen, there was no relief. It felt as if the air had been packed in tight little boxes, all stacked up on her chest, all weighing heavily. And this last stretch of road before Serendipity seemed endless.

She jerked her eyes open again. d.a.m.n it, what was the matter with her?

"You look tired, Denise. Why don't you let me drive for a while?"

Denise slanted a quick glance toward her father. If she looked tired, Tate Cavanaugh looked even more so. Her father had been looking steadily more and more haggard as the months pa.s.sed. There had to be something wrong for him to have allowed her to take over running the company. The shift wasn't anything that had been agreed to out loud, just something that had slowly evolved over the last six months. She did more and more, and he let her. The old Tate never would have allowed it.

But if she so much as said anything on the subject, or urged him to see a doctor, she was roundly put in her place and told that. "Everything's fine. A man my age's earned the right to look a little tired now and then."

It wouldn't have bothered her if it had been "now and then." It was the constant that worried her. But worrying never changed anything and she knew it was useless to let the emotion get the better of her.

Most emotion was useless, she thought Except for when it came to loving her family.

Turning to look at her father again, Denise did her best to sound blase. "Not on your life. I've waited twenty-six years to get my hands on this wheel. I'm not about to let it go now. You had your turn, now it's mine."

"Mama, look out!" Audra shrieked.

The sudden, alerting cry jarred every single nerve in Denise's body. Almost subconsciously, she began turning the wheel sharply to the right even before she fully focused on the road.

And into the path of an oncoming Jeep.

Terror bit down hard.

"Oh my G.o.d."

Denise wasn't sure if the words had come out of her mouth, or were just thundering in her brain over and over again, like hail angrily pelting a tin roof. Along with the cry came fragments of prayers.

Tires screeched and whined as she fought not to jackknife the rig or hit the car that had, only a second before, not been there.

Had it?

Her arms and lungs were aching, straining against fear and steel. Sweat poured down her back, plastering her lime green T-shirt to her body. She turned the wheel into the skid, still praying. Forgetting the moment they were out of her mouth, she shouted words of rea.s.surances to her father and daughter. All she was really conscious of was that their lives were in her hands. Hands that would have been trembling had they been free.

Five seconds felt like forever. Her daughter's cries and her father's voice a.s.saulted her ears. None of it was intelligible to Denise. She couldn't make out any of the words. All she heard was the sound of fear.

And the pounding of her own heart.

Arms feeling as if they were about to break off, Denise was both exhausted and strung out by the time the big-rig finally screeched to a resounding halt. A lumbering dinosaur tired of the game.

Denise blinked back tears she didn't remember gathering in her eyes. It was over.

"Are you okay, baby?" she cried. Not waiting for an answer, she ran her hands over the girl's small body and face to rea.s.sure herself.

For once, Audra didn't object to the name. The golden head bobbed up and down.

"Uh-huh." Her mother's daughter, Audra stubbornly swallowed a sob, refusing to let tears fall. Tears were for scared babies. As long as Mama was there, everything was okay.

Pressing Audra to her, Denise raised her eyes to her father, almost afraid of what she would see. But he appeared to be unhurt.

"Daddy?"

The slumped figure straightened, pressing his shoulders against the back of the seat behind him. Tate shrugged away the concern he saw in his daughter's face.

"Shook up, some, but everything's where it's supposed to be." Tate let out a long breath, waiting for it and the pounding of his heart to become steady again. "Told you I should have taken over the wheel."

There was no accusation in his voice. There never was. Denise knew that right now, he was simply a parent who believed that he was omnipotent when it came to keeping his family safe.

She knew the feeling, except that for several very hairy moments, it had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from her. But they were all alive and that was all that mattered.

The door of the cab suddenly flew open on her side. "Everyone all right in here?"

Startled, it was all that she could do not to jump in response. Heart still pounding, Denise turned from her family to look down into the face of a man with the most soulfully blue eyes she had ever seen.

The next moment, she braced herself for the tirade she knew was coming. They were the outsiders and she had almost run over someone she a.s.sumed was a "townie." Someone who belonged here, the way they didn't.

She pressed her lips together, eyeing him guardedly. "We're okay."

The woman was decidedly pale, Will Cutler thought He had no idea who she was, or what she looked like normally, but he sincerely doubted anyone had a complexion quite that white. Small wonder. There had been several moments back there, after he'd swerved out of the way, when he thought the rig was going to wind up skidding along on its side. Or worse.

Scrambling to her knees, Audra peered around her mother's body to look at the stranger. Curiosity had been her constant companion from the first moment she'd opened her eyes. Now was no different.

"Yeah, we're okay," she announced, doing her best to sound just like her mother. The toss of her head was pure Denise Cavanaugh, even if she didn't have the long, flowing blond hair to carry it off.

Will looked from the woman to the little girl who was almost a complete miniature copy of her. He was only marginally aware that there was a third person in the cab, an older man who seemed content to let the females do the talking.

"Are you sure?" Will moved closer. He was about to climb up on the step, but the woman set her foot on it first, barring access. "No b.u.mps or scratches?" His question was addressed to the little girl.

Pleased at the attention, Audra beamed importantly. "Nope. My mama's a great driver."

If the woman had been alert, she would have never crossed the dividing line and put them all in danger in the first place. But Will bit back the obvious comment. He wasn't the agitator in his family. That dubious honor had always belonged to his sister, Morgan.

"She'd have to be," he agreed solemnly, "to handle this rig."

Audra wiggled further forward, warming to the stranger like a match struck against a rough surface. And far too quickly for Denise's liking.

"I'm Audra Cavanaugh." She put her hand out the way she'd seen grown-ups do.

Amused, Will reached in over the woman to take the little girl's hand. He noted that the woman remained rigid and partially in his way, as if she intended for her body to act as a buffer between Audra and him.