TUCKED AWAY By Jennie Marts A Hearts of Montana Novel Sometimes you find what you need in the most unlikely places… Charlie Ryan’s cheating fiancé left her with a broken heart and even broker bank account. She’s hit rock bottom, but everything is about to change. Suddenly, she’s inherited a Montana farm named Tucked Away from a grandmother she never knew existed. A fresh start is just what she needs—and no men in her future this time, even if the local vet is as hot as a Montana summer. Zack Cooper is content with his simple life. Running his veterinary practice and raising his daughter are enough to keep him busy, and he doesn’t need a high-maintenance city girl like his ex who plans to sell her grandma’s ranch and split faster than a setting sun. So why can’t he stop thinking about Charlie and her hot-pink cowboy boots…and the way her eyes say she wants to stay while her lips tease him with plans of leaving? Just when both start to believe love might be worth the risk
Jennie Marts loves to make readers laugh as she weaves stories filled with love, friendship and intrigue. She writes for Entangled Publishing and is the Kindle Bestselling author of the Page Turners series, which includes the romantic comedies: Another Saturday Night & I Ain't Got No Body, Easy Like Sunday Mourning, Just Another Maniac Monday and the two newest Between the Pages Novellas-A Cowboy for Christmas and A Halloween Hookup. Jennie is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two sons, and two dogs whose antics often find a way into her books. She is addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos and believes you can't have too many books, shoes or friends.
OPENING SCENE A bead of sweat trickled down her back as she stared into the cold brown eyes of her captor. A gold ring pierced his nostril. He snorted, his breath forming a circle of condensation on the window. She laid on the horn again, hoping this time to scare the beast away. He stood there, unfazed, staring at her and swatting flies away with his tail. “Nice bull.” Keeping her voice low, she pulled on the handle and gently pushed open the car door a fraction of an inch. The huge black bull, roughly the size of a small pickup truck, pawed at the ground, then put his head down and rammed the side of her bright red rental car. She let loose a scream of terror and frustration. The car held all of her worldly possessions, packed in a few liquor store boxes and a couple of Louis Vuitton suitcases, her last shred of dignity tucked into one of the side pockets. Charlie Ryan had spent the last hour trapped in a car that reeked of stale French fries, her silk blouse clinging to her damp back, desperately rethinking her decision to drink that large iced tea. Why had she ignored the sign reading Last services for 200 miles? Who knew that meant gasoline? She thought it meant cell service, and her phone had died hours ago as she’d crossed the never-ending flats of the Midwest, driving toward her new home and the promise of a fresh start. Nothing was going as planned. Her dreams, once as bright as the pristine Montana sky, had faded like the paint on the large red barn standing sentinel over the Tucker farm. But this was too much. She’d had enough bull in her life, and she was getting out of this car. Groaning, she looked around in desperation for a way out. An old two-story farmhouse sat at the end of a dusty driveway. The front door, and her means of escape, a mere twenty feet away. She pulled her black designer pump from her foot and beat it against the window. Its ineffectiveness against her captor equaled its poor choice as driving footwear, evidenced by the large red blister forming on her right heel. She studied the beast. His shiny coat seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun. Horns protruded two feet off either side of his huge, triangular block of a head, and his neck was thick as a tree trunk. She leaned closer to the window and noticed his horns dotted with red bits that looked like blood, but were probably flecks of the paint that used to be on her rental car door. A large scar extended several inches above and below his left eye. The scar, combined with the way he stamped his foot and shook his enormous head at her, told her this bull meant business. Turning away from the animal, she tried the ignition once more, hoping the tank had been visited by the services fairies and magically filled with gasoline. What little fumes were left in the tank had sputtered out just as she pulled into the driveway and coasted to a stop in front of the house.