โ Scribed by Wood, Adrianne
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
A fiery desert flower and an irresistible cowboy steam up the Wild, Wild West in Adrianne Wood๏ฟฝs rip-roaring romantic debut.
Lily Highfill has spent eight years in Colorado, exiled from her wealthy, high-society Boston family. With a long-awaited invitation to return home finally in hand, she๏ฟฝs doing all she can to secure her betrothal to a charming and cultured gentleman. But with just a few weeks left at her grandfather๏ฟฝs fossil expedition, a rugged and handsome stranger rides in on horseback, stirring up trouble . . . and excavating a place for himself in her heart. Free-spirited journalist Mason Donnelly came to the frontier to cure his writers๏ฟฝ block, unaware the badlands offered such tempting distractions. Lily is as breathtaking as a Western sunset. But she๏ฟฝs also as delicate as a bowie knife. The more Mason digs up about the suspicious bone-hunters she works for, the more the feisty heiress derails his plans. If he exposes the priceless secrets hidden deep in the desert, will he lose his only chance with the sensuous diamond in the rough?
In the 1880s Colorado badlands, burned-out frontier journalist Mason Donnelly seeks rest in a dinosaur fossil expedition camp backed by financier Charles Highfill. At the site, he meets Highfill's granddaughter, Denver schoolteacher Lily, who dresses him down for his condescending article about Highfill. Lily, a Boston heiress who's spent eight years in Denver, wants a marriage proposal from fossil expert Cecil St. John before she visits her mother back east, and she asks Donnelly to flirt with her to make St. John jealous. Once she kisses Donnelly, however, she knows the footloose reporter is the one for her. Donnelly sniffs out a secret in the fossil camp, and others lurk in wait. Angry miners, a sniper's bullet, an old liaison, and a deal gone wrong all contribute to a convoluted plot. Lily's contradictory thinking makes her a wishy-washy character with only occasional sparks, and too-frequent rehashing of known information dulls the story. (Dec.)
EXCERPT:
Highfill said, "Donnelly, this is Cecil St. John. He's helping Richter oversee everything."
His arms still full of the papers he'd rescued from toppling off Highfill's overloaded desk, Mason nodded instead of offering to shake hands. "Good to meet you."
"You, too." St. John didn't bother to hold eye contact long enough to look sincere.
Settling into a camp chair without asking, St. John said, "Work went well today. We won't know what we've got until we sift through the piles, but I'm hopeful that something will turn up."
"A game of patience, this dig is," Highfill grunted. "Mason, why are you still standing up? And why are you hugging those drawings?"
Mason looked down. Yes, they were drawings. Drawings of bones. "Who did these? They're quite detailed." And far better than those he'd seen when he was here last year.
"Oh, those must be mine," St. John said, a modest smile touching his mouth. A shock of gingery hair fell across his eye, and he artfully flicked it away with one long finger.
Well, if they were his, then he could have them. Mason stepped forward, ready to dump the drawings into the younger Bostonian's lap, when Highfill said, "No, those are Lily's."
Mason stopped. "Lily?"
Highfill jumped to his feet. "Speak of the devil."
Still seizing the drawings to his heart like they were love letters, Mason turned.
A young woman stood in the tent entrance, the bright sunlight edging her silhouette in copper and making the fitted red jacket and matching scarf she wore wrapped around her hair look as bright as flames.
Aha. Mystery solved.
She stepped deeper into the tent and tugged off the scarf. No longer squinting against the sunlight, Mason could now see her more clearly. In her early twenties perhaps, she walked toward Highfill with the confidence of a person who knew she'd be welcome. When she tossed a hank of light brown hair over her shoulder, she did it with a carelessness that contrasted with St. John's self-conscious deliberation.
"We've found something that Dickon thinks you should look at," she said to Highfill.
Ah, so this was Dickon's assistant. She wasn't a raving beauty, but with her big brown eyes and delicious figure, she was well worth a long look. Mason now understood Dickon's joke about the painful job of watching her. The sight of her would make any man's day a little bit brighter.
Whose wife was she? Single young ladies didn't usually scrabble around for fossils lodged in cliff faces, and Mason doubted Highfill would allow such a pretty distraction on his expedition. Perhaps she was St. John's wife. Mason frowned. If so, hopefully her naturalness would rub off on him, rather than his artificiality rubbing off on her.
"Grandfather..." the girl said impatiently, propping one hand on her nicely shaped hip.
Good God, Highfill was her grandfather? She must be rich as a princess. Heck, as four princesses.
A story idea began to form. Boston heiress labors in search for history--
"My drawings!" she cried.
Mason shook his head and brought his focus back to the present. The princess was staring at him in horror.
No, not at him. At the papers he held smashed to his chest.
Delicately plucking the drawings from his arms like a farm girl plucking eggs from beneath hens, she made little distressed noises under her breath.
Mason tried to explain. "They were falling off the table--"
"Don't worry," St. John cut in. He strode over, nudged her aside, grabbed the papers out of Mason's arms, and then threw them in a clump onto the table. The mass of drawings already residing on the table trembled but held firm.
At Mason's elbow, Highfill's granddaughter sighed with relief.
Then she looked up at him.
She had the roundest eyes he'd ever seen, making her look perpetually astonished. Or perhaps she was simply astonished now at finding him so close.
"Hello," Mason said.
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A fiery desert flower and an irresistible cowboy steam up the Wild, Wild West in Adrianne Woodโs rip-roaring romantic debut. Lily Highfill has spent eight years in Colorado, exiled from her wealthy, high-society Boston family. With a long-awaited invitation to return home finally in hand, sheโs do