by: Paula Altenburg
Series: The Endeavour Ranch of Grand, Montana
Genre: Contemporary Christmas Romance
Release Date: October 17, 2022
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Rodeo champion and buckle-bunny favorite Miles Decker is the “face” of professional bull riding. So when his famous face is badly scarred in a bull riding accident, he retires from public life and returns to Grand, Montana, to manage the new circuit rodeo on the Endeavour Ranch. He has few regrets—he’s made his money and has had his fill of beautiful women. But his future is upended when a surprise Christmas gift lands on his doorstep: an eight-month-old baby girl with his eyes and smile.
Local girl Tate Shannahan just lost her elf job, so being hired as the caregiver for Miles Decker’s baby is a godsend for an already difficult Christmas. Her twin brother’s death in a bull riding accident fractured Tate’s family, leaving her and her older brother to continue the Shannahan traditions alone—or not, as her brother decides. The baby is a joy, but working for a man who represents everything her family has lost isn’t easy.
Miracles happen at Christmas though, and as Miles and Tate discover new traditions together, can love grow where they least expect it?
Age: 25
Date of birth: October 26th
Physical Description: Blond hair, blue eyes. 5'6", 130 lbs. Curvy build and a diamond-shaped face with a lot of cheekbone. A thin scar that cuts through my right eyebrow --barely noticeable.
Occupation: Christmas elf and childcare provider.
3 likes in no particular order: Bull riders; Little Shop of Horrors; Ugly Christmas sweaters.
3 dislikes in no particular order: Santa Claus; Big box stores; the guy who owns the local tractor dealership—he’s managed to get on my last nerve. Chauvinist.
Drink of choice: Rum and eggnog. Okay, fine. White wine.
Favorite food: Miles’s homemade lasagna.
Favorite song: Santa Claus is Coming to Town.
Choice of transportation: Miles drives one of those huge guy trucks that costs more than my brother’s home. It’s like riding in a snowplow.
Favorite way to spend an evening: You can’t go wrong with an evening of listening to music and drinking wine while Miles cooks for you.
Favorite holiday tradition: Dressing up in ugly Christmas sweaters to swill hard cider and decorate the tree.
Best memory to date: Meeting Miles Decker, champion bull rider. I used to have a poster of him on my bedroom wall. He’s much, much more impressive in real life.
If you could have a do-over, what would you do differently? I might have waited until after the kids went home and the store closed before punching Santa. Or at least until there were fewer witnesses.
What’s something you’ve said you would never do, but in fact have done? I thought I’d never love Christmas again, but Miles changed my mind.
Most romantic gesture (done or received): Miles really went all out for my Christmas present, but you’ll have to read about it.
Words to live by: “If at first you don’t succeed, grab a friend and try a different approach.”
“You’re new at this, aren’t you? The star goes on last,” Tate said to Miles.
He had to be new at it, because getting the star into place was the least of his problems. He held the crowning crystal of glory in his work-roughened hands. It was delicate and shiny and bright—and would add another six inches to a tree that already terrorized the paint on the living room ceiling.
“You think so? And how do you propose we do that?” he asked. “Picture it loaded with ornaments and lights.”
They both studied the tree. It took up nearly half the room, and the room wasn’t small.
“You’re right,” Tate said. It killed her to admit it. “In fact, you’re never going to get that star mounted. Your tree is obese.”
The scar on Miles’s cheek crinkled. Humor trickled from his eyes. “Are you body-shaming my tree?”
“I’m questioning your judgment. It looks like Audrey II.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. “Audrey had better be a supermodel.”
“Seriously?” Tate couldn’t believe it. “It’s the carnivorous plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Movie? Musical? Performed by just about every drama department in high schools across North America?” She dropped her voice to the lowest pitch she could reach and belted out, “Feed me, Seymour. Feed me all night long… Don’t leave Iris alone with it,” she finished darkly.
He cracked up, his shoulders quaking with laughter. Iris, who’d fallen asleep on the floor on a blanket, stirred without opening her eyes. Her tiny lips curled into a reflexive smile before relaxing again. The sound of his laughter had Tate smiling, too. The way he energized a room just by being himself was truly astounding. Not much wonder he’d been such a crowd favorite.
And why she still had this huge urge to fangirl all over him—except she had no intentions of ever being one of those women who couldn’t leave him alone. She knew the difference and where the line was.
“You played Audrey in your school play, didn’t you?” he said when he finally stopped laughing.
“Of course, I did. It was the best part. But we haven’t solved the problem of how to get the star on the tree,” she pointed out.
Miles rubbed the back of his neck while he studied the problem some more. “The tree is only eight feet tall. If I gave you a boost, you could reach it,” he suggested.
Only eight feet… Sure. If she didn’t mind getting scratched by all those sharp, prickly needles on the thick clusters of branches. “Why don’t I climb the tree, instead?”
He responded with a touch of good-natured sarcasm of his own. “You’d do that for me?”
“Not in this lifetime, Texas,” she said. “But you’re welcome to give it a try.”
For a second, he looked as if he might be seriously considering it. Then he said, “I have a better idea.”
She stood to one side while he took the tree from the stand, lopped another few inches off the top, and tied the star into place with a thin piece of wire. She helped him wrestle the tree upright again, then stepped back to get a good look and prepared to pass judgment.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Still fat, mind you. But more in a majestic kind of way, and less overfed.”
“It’s as if you’re determined to hurt Audrey’s feelings,” he said. “Ever consider that your friend Maybe isn’t the only person around here who’s mean?”
He had to be new at it, because getting the star into place was the least of his problems. He held the crowning crystal of glory in his work-roughened hands. It was delicate and shiny and bright—and would add another six inches to a tree that already terrorized the paint on the living room ceiling.
“You think so? And how do you propose we do that?” he asked. “Picture it loaded with ornaments and lights.”
They both studied the tree. It took up nearly half the room, and the room wasn’t small.
“You’re right,” Tate said. It killed her to admit it. “In fact, you’re never going to get that star mounted. Your tree is obese.”
The scar on Miles’s cheek crinkled. Humor trickled from his eyes. “Are you body-shaming my tree?”
“I’m questioning your judgment. It looks like Audrey II.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. “Audrey had better be a supermodel.”
“Seriously?” Tate couldn’t believe it. “It’s the carnivorous plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Movie? Musical? Performed by just about every drama department in high schools across North America?” She dropped her voice to the lowest pitch she could reach and belted out, “Feed me, Seymour. Feed me all night long… Don’t leave Iris alone with it,” she finished darkly.
He cracked up, his shoulders quaking with laughter. Iris, who’d fallen asleep on the floor on a blanket, stirred without opening her eyes. Her tiny lips curled into a reflexive smile before relaxing again. The sound of his laughter had Tate smiling, too. The way he energized a room just by being himself was truly astounding. Not much wonder he’d been such a crowd favorite.
And why she still had this huge urge to fangirl all over him—except she had no intentions of ever being one of those women who couldn’t leave him alone. She knew the difference and where the line was.
“You played Audrey in your school play, didn’t you?” he said when he finally stopped laughing.
“Of course, I did. It was the best part. But we haven’t solved the problem of how to get the star on the tree,” she pointed out.
Miles rubbed the back of his neck while he studied the problem some more. “The tree is only eight feet tall. If I gave you a boost, you could reach it,” he suggested.
Only eight feet… Sure. If she didn’t mind getting scratched by all those sharp, prickly needles on the thick clusters of branches. “Why don’t I climb the tree, instead?”
He responded with a touch of good-natured sarcasm of his own. “You’d do that for me?”
“Not in this lifetime, Texas,” she said. “But you’re welcome to give it a try.”
For a second, he looked as if he might be seriously considering it. Then he said, “I have a better idea.”
She stood to one side while he took the tree from the stand, lopped another few inches off the top, and tied the star into place with a thin piece of wire. She helped him wrestle the tree upright again, then stepped back to get a good look and prepared to pass judgment.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Still fat, mind you. But more in a majestic kind of way, and less overfed.”
“It’s as if you’re determined to hurt Audrey’s feelings,” he said. “Ever consider that your friend Maybe isn’t the only person around here who’s mean?”
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The Endeavour Ranch of Grand, Montana Series:
Paula Altenburg grew up in rural Nova Scotia knowing that at some point in her life she was likely to be a fiction writer. Swapping Louis L’Amour and Zane Grey books with her father guaranteed she wasn’t going to be the next Jane Austen, much to the dismay of her English teacher mother.
A degree in Social Anthropology from the University of King’s College and Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia, again meant writing was the logical (meaning only) career path for her, although it did confirm her belief that learning is a life-long experience. She’s taken business courses, writing courses, and physiology of aquatic animals courses, all at the university level and all for fun.
She has worked in the Aerospace industry, although now makes writing her full-time career. Happily married, with two terrific sons, she continues to live in rural Nova Scotia but makes a point of traveling as much as she can.
She reads in all genres, but fantasy and contemporary romance are her writing loves.
Places to find Paula Altenburg:
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I'd have chickens and black-nosed sheep and a couple of horses.
ReplyDeleteI would love to have some longhorns on my ranch.
ReplyDeleteI would have cattle and horses.
ReplyDeleteHorses
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on your release of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby, Paula, I can't wait to read it! If I owned a ranch, I would have horses, llamas, sheep, goats, and since I am obviously dreaming, I would have unicorns, tigers, bears, wolves and dragons!
ReplyDeleteHave a magical holiday season!
I think some horses and chickens would be it
ReplyDeleteHorses, Pigs, miniature pigs, goats, chickens, all kinds of animals. Lots of dogs and cats too. & bunnies!
ReplyDelete