Christmas with the Rancher: The Rancher / Christmas Cowboy / A Man of Means. Diana Palmer
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‘Nobody does it better.’
—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard
‘Ms Palmer masterfully weaves a tale that entices on many levels, blending adventure and strong human emotion into a great read.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Nobody tops Diana Palmer when it comes to delivering pure, undiluted romance. I love her stories.’
—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz
‘A compelling tale…[that packs] an emotional wallop.’
—Publishers Weekly on Renegade
‘This story is a thrill a minute—one of Palmer’s best.’
—Rendezvous on Lord of the Desert
The prolific author of over one hundred books, DIANA PALMER got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi-New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humour. Diana lives with her family in Georgia.
Dear Reader,
You probably think this story is about Cort Brannt, the brother of my heroine, Morie Brannt, in Wyoming Tough. Well, it’s not. It’s actually about the rooster who belongs to Cort’s neighbour. A red rooster came into my yard several weeks ago. I tried to run him off, but he kept coming back. I discovered that roosters can fly, because he jumped a seven-foot-high solid wooden fence to keep coming into my yard. I have lots of grass and a garden, which means bugs and worms and nice edibles. He wouldn’t leave.
Over the weeks, people who work for me in the yard tried to catch him. Some of the neighbours got into the act. I especially wanted him gone because every time I went out to feed the birds or look at my garden, he would attack me. I was spurred three times, and I have the scars to prove it. So the rooster had to go. That presented a problem. I didn’t want him killed or eaten, which left his fate up to me, since his owner apparently moved away and left him behind. (I don’t blame him. If you knew this rooster, you wouldn’t blame him, either!)
Our nice Mr Martin, who looks after the koi and goldfish ponds for us, had a friend who knew how to catch chickens. He also kept chickens. So he just walked into the backyard, picked the rooster up and carried him off. My jaw is still dropping. Anyway, the rooster is very happy, has many hens to court, and I am happy because I can walk to my pumpkin patch without being mauled on the way.
Cort Brannt is going to have the same problem. His nice little frumpy neighbour has a pet rooster named Pumpkin and she loves him. She loves Cort, too, but Cort loves Odalie Everett, who wants to train as a soprano and sing in the great opera houses of the world. Ah, the eternal triangle. It will all end well, I promise. And Pumpkin will have a happy future. Just like my unwanted red rooster visitor.
Hope you like the book. It has roots in Branntville, Texas, and King Brannt is Cort’s dad.
Your greatest fan,
Diana Palmer
Christmas with the Rancher
The Rancher
Christmas Cowboy
A Man of Means
Diana Palmer
Table of Contents
Praise for Diana Palmer
The Rancher
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Christmas Cowboy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
A Man of Means
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Maddie Lane was worried. She was standing in her big yard, looking at her chickens, and all she saw was a mixture of hens. There were red ones and white ones and gray speckled ones. But they were all hens. Someone was missing: her big Rhode Island Red rooster, Pumpkin.
She knew where he likely was. It made her grind her teeth together. There was going to be trouble, again, and she was going to be on the receiving end of it.
She pushed back her short, wavy blond hair and grimaced. Her wide gray eyes searched the yard, hoping against hope that she was mistaken, that Pumpkin had only gone in search of bugs, not cowboys.
“Pumpkin?” she called loudly.
Great-Aunt Sadie came to the door. She was slight and a little dumpy, with short, thin gray hair, wearing glasses and a worried look.
“I saw him go over toward the Brannt place, Maddie,” she said as she moved out onto the porch. “I’m sorry.”
Maddie groaned aloud. “I’ll have to go after him. Cort will kill me!”
“Well,