The Cattleman, The Baby and Me. Michelle Douglas
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OUTBACK BABY TALES
Newborns, new arrivals, newlyweds
In a beautiful but isolated landscape, three sisters follow three very different routes to parenthood against all odds and find love with brooding men…
Discover the soft side of three rugged Outback cattlemen as they win over these feisty women and a handful of adorable babies!
Your journey through the tears and triumphs began last month:
ONE SMALL MIRACLEMelissa James
The pitter-patter of tiny feet continues this month with:
THE CATTLEMAN, THE BABY AND MEMichelle Douglas
And next month there’s a motherhood miracle in:
THEIR NEWBORN GIFTNikki Logan
The Cattleman, The Baby and Me
By
Michelle Douglas
At the age of eight, Michelle Douglas was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance-writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Master’s programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings. Michelle would love you to visit her at her website www.michelle-douglas.com
Recent titles by this author:
BACHELOR DAD ON HER DOORSTEP
THE ARISTOCRAT AND THE SINGLE MUM
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To Mum, with love.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
‘THAT’S the Jarndirri out station down there.’
At the pilot’s words Sapphie Thomas turned from the baby sleeping beside her to stare out of the mail plane’s window. Anna and Lea Curran—her best friends—had grown up on Jarndirri. Sapphie had spent a lot of time there herself. She’d deftly fed that piece of information to Sid, the pilot, earlier. Sapphie didn’t get into small planes with strange men without them knowing she had friends in high places—friends who could come to her aid in a flash if the need arose.
She stared down at the out station and longing and pain hit her in equal measure. Her chest tightened. ‘You’re not going to land, are you?’
Her chest tightened even more. She didn’t want Sid to land. She didn’t want to step foot on Jarndirri at the moment. For lots of reasons—not least being the letter she’d received two days ago.
She pushed that thought away. She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, she thought how a landing might wake Harry, and she didn’t want that. Her twelve-month old nephew, it seemed, hated flying. He hated landings and take-offs. He hated the dust and the heat and the flies. He hated the glare of the sun in its cloudless sky, and hated Sapphie trying to change his nappy in the close confines of the plane. He hated it all—with a capital H—and he had the lungs to prove it. Sapphie had wanted to wail right alongside him.
She’d wanted to wail because Harry hated her too.
During the long, hot five hours they’d so far endured on the plane he’d only stopped crying when she’d given him his bottle—most of the contents of which he had then thrown up all over her shirt. Finally, through sheer exhaustion, he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t want him woken for any reason whatsoever. So not landing at Jarndirri would suit her perfectly. She waited for Sid’s answer.
‘Nah,’