Hello Reader Friend!

With Thanksgiving this week–I just wanted to let you know how thankful I am for you! You make a difference in my life and I appreciate you.

Many readers have fallen in love with the Reindeer Wranglers and that’s why I’m so excited to share this book with you. A Nutty Christmas Reunion is ready and available on Amazon.

Click here to start reading.

Excerpt:

“Name?” she prompted as nicely as she could.

“I’m not sure I want to tell you.”

She scowled. “Why not?”

“You attacked me with a tire iron.” He threw the words out like knives.

Indignation fired inside. Obviously, she felt bad about it, or she wouldn’t be driving him to get help. “I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t breaking into my barn. What would you do if you were in my situation?”

He lowered his arm and studied in her what little light there was on First Street. He sighed. “I’d probably want to hit them with a tire iron.”

She felt oddly validated. And then the shame of her actions flooded her. “I’m so sorry. Please believe that I don’t usually go around hitting people.”

“I know.” He shifted carefully.

She eyed him warily. Exactly how long had he been watching her? Was he some stalker who’d picked up her picture on social media? Or had her ex sent him to find out if she had money? If so, the joke was on him. “How?”

“Because you were always a sweet kid.”

Her eyebrows pulled together.

He chuckled. “You don’t remember me—do you?”

“Should I?”

“I’d like to think I left an impression.” He had a smidgen of satisfaction and a smudge of overconfidence that was adorably handsome. If this wasn’t the strangest thing that had ever happened to her, she might think he was cute. He turned his head to the side, offering his profile. “Look close.”

She did her best to scrutinize him in the Christmas lights that brushed through the windows. “Sorry. I got nothing.”

He sighed. “Forest Nicholas.”

She slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward.

His good arm reached out to stop him from flying into the dashboard. “What the peanut butter fudge?!” he snapped.

“Forest Nicholas?” she asked in disbelief. At the very name, she was taken back to her elementary school years where the little boy with cornflower-blue eyes painted her hair brown in art class and left a melted candy bar that looked like poo in her desk. “Forest Nicholas,” she repeated.