The BBW Romance Collection

By Jenn Roseton

Romance author Jenn Roseton now has a box set of three of her most popular books!

Each book is the second book in its series.

His Mysterious Bride (BBW Western Romance – Millionaire Cowboys 2)

When an unconscious, curvy woman appears on Zach Coltson’s ranch, his first instinct is to get her to safety. A storm is brewing and there is no way he can call for help.

Once the woman recovers consciousness, they are both shocked to discover she has amnesia!

Why doesn’t she have any identification on her? What made her seek out his ranch? Zach vows to help her discover the answers, and along the way, loses his heart to her.

But can she return his feelings? Is she free to do so? Will she become His Mysterious Bride?

This is a contemporary romance novella of 34,000 words.

The Tycoon’s Reluctant Bride (BBW Romance- Billionaire Brothers 2)

When city tycoon Alex Trask proposes to curvy Laura, she thinks he’s crazy. After all, they’ve only met once and haven’t even kissed!

But when he offers to help her company solve its cash flow problems and stave off bankruptcy, what other choice does she have?

Since he’ll only assist her if she agrees to marry him, Laura becomes a whirlwind bride. Since one of Alex’s conditions is they have a real marriage, she risks her heart by falling in love with the enigmatic billionaire.

But will she ever discover the real reason Alex proposed? Could he ever fall in love with a curvy girl like her?

This is a contemporary romance novella of 33,000 words.

Curves and the Sheriff (BBW Western Romance – Coldwater Springs 2)

When Libby Grant breezes into Coldwater Springs, Wyoming, the last thing she expects is to be pulled over on the highway by Sheriff Jake Morgan. Sparks blaze when Jake suspects her of being a con-artist and is tempted to arrest her!

But when he discovers the real reason she’s in town, he finds he can’t get curvy Libby out of his mind - or his heart. Can he convince her that his feelings for her are real?

This is a short, contemporary romance of approximately 7,700 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenn Roseton
• Release date: Apr 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386034711

Book preview

His Mysterious Bride (BBW Western Romance - Millionaire Cowboys 2)

The Tycoon's Reluctant Bride (BBW Romance - Billionaire Brothers 2)

Curves and the Sheriff (BBW Romance - Coldwater Springs 2)

His Mysterious Bride (BBW Western Romance - Millionaire Cowboys 2)

by

Jenn Roseton

Copyright © 2015 by Jenn Roseton

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

This is a sexy contemporary romance novella of 34,000 words.

Cover design by H.Y. Hanna

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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Thanks to Gail and Nicole for answering my questions. I really appreciate it.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

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Zach Coltson shut the door of his cabin and walked in the weak sunshine of early morning March toward the riverbank. Yesterday, he’d finished taming a wild horse for one of his clients, and couldn’t help feeling satisfied with the results.

Moonlight had been a pretty, but skittish filly; all black apart from a white diamond on her forehead. But by the time he’d gained the creature’s trust, and had gently broken her in to accept an experienced rider on her back, he’d been pleased with the transformation. And so had his client. Moonlight had whickered to him and nudged her nose against his hand as Zach had said goodbye to her. Then she allowed herself to be loaded into the horse trailer and driven back to her owner’s ranch.

Now, he’d decided to take a couple of weeks off before he took on a new client. It would be great to go horseback riding for fun, instead of doing it as part of his job.

His footsteps crunched on the dirt track as he approached the river. Although he’d lived on the ranch all his life, he never got tired of the scenery. In this part of Montana, they had endless pasture, and a sky that seemed to go on forever, as well as large mountains in the distance.

He halted as a shape came into view along the riverbank. It looked about five feet or so long, and huddled. Surely it couldn’t be a person?

His long-legged stride ate up the distance until he was beside the still form, covered in mud-encrusted black long pants and a light purple sweater. A woman.

Her eyes were closed, and she appeared unconscious. He cursed under his breath, and scanned the area. No one around. A bird chirped nearby, but apart from a cow mooing in the distance, there was no other sound.

She had light brown hair, ending somewhere between her chin and her shoulders. Her skin was pale and creamy, and she looked well-nourished.

He gently touched her shoulder. She seemed to be breathing evenly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, and he couldn’t help admiring her curvy figure, even as his protective instincts took over. He had to get this woman help.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her foot twitched, and then she sank back into unconsciousness.

He quickly assessed her for any injuries. Since she’d been able to move her foot, she hadn’t damaged her spine, so it should be safe to move her, once the paramedics had seen her.

But ... he looked at the sky. Although sunshine had struggled through the dove-gray clouds only a few moments ago, the whole sky had suddenly turned to an ominous shade of gray.

His blood chilled. The freak storm the TV news had mentioned last night – although it wasn’t supposed to hit this part of Montana. There wasn’t time to wait for an ambulance. He had to get her to safety. Now.

No blood, no obvious wounds. Good.

Gathering her in his arms, he strode toward his cabin, carrying her easily. The sudden temperature drop bit into his skin through the layers of his long-sleeved shirt and jacket. If he hadn’t found her in time ...

He kicked the door open and laid her down on the sofa in the small living room.

His cabin was the smallest dwelling on the ranch, but it suited him fine – one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and kitchen. It was all he needed. He’d even kept most of his grandfather’s furniture – solid American made oak – and a crocheted granny square afghan his grandmother made, with colorful wool that reminded him of a flower garden. He draped the rug over the woman, wanting to raise her body temperature. She only looked around twenty-six or twenty-seven. What was she doing here? How did she get here? Their property boundary stretched for miles. And more important, why was she unconscious on the riverbank?

He crossed to the wood stove, stoking up the embers and putting in another log, watching with satisfaction as the orange-red blaze kick-started into life. Keeping her warm was his first priority.

Just as he was about to get another blanket, her eyes fluttered, then closed again. Her dark eyelashes stood out starkly against her pale eyelids. No makeup on her face, just a natural, wholesome prettiness and creamy complexion he couldn’t help responding to. The only evidence of her ordeal was her parched lips.

Wind rattled in the chimney, and rain pelted against the windows and roof. The interior of the cabin suddenly darkened, as if somebody had flicked off a light switch.  Zach turned on the living room light, then crossed back to the sofa, studying her face once more.

Her eyelids fluttered again, and this time remained open. She squinted, as if the overhead light was too bright for her eyes. Then she licked her dry lips and looked at him through hazel eyes flecked with gold.

Who are you? she whispered.

***

Drink this. The man held a glass of water to her lips. Her hand shook as she curled her fingers around the tumbler, the cool, wet liquid feeling good against her arid lips and throat.

When she couldn’t manage any more sips, she sank back against the arm of the comfortable sofa, shaking her head when he tried to hold the glass once again to her mouth.

He was tall, with short, dark brown hair. Hawk-like brown eyes that looked like they would never miss anything. Craggily handsome face. She guessed him to be in his early thirties. A deep, masculine voice she somehow found oddly comforting. He looked like he worked outdoors; his broad shoulders under his denim shirt appeared to be well muscled.

Her gaze flickered to the dwelling walls. She was in some kind of cabin. But she had no idea how – or why - she was there. Solid, old-fashioned, dependable looking oak furniture – somehow it reminded her of the man standing over her. She glanced down at the crocheted rug covering her. The pink, white, and blue granny squares with black borders looked like they had been made a long time ago with loving care.

A wood burning stove in the corner gave out welcome warmth, the flickering flames dancing inside.

How— her voice faltered and she licked her lips. How did I get here?

I found you on the riverbank and brought you here, he replied, scrutinizing her expression.

She crinkled her brow. The riverbank? Which riverbank? Why was she there?

Where am I? She gazed at him as if he could supply all the answers to her predicament.

You’re at the 8C Ranch in Montana. We’re nearly an hour from Billings. The closest town is Spring River Bend.

Ranch? Montana? She shook her head. The name of the ranch meant nothing to her. Why would she be on a ranch in Montana?

I’m Zach Coltson, he added, and gestured to the living room. This is my cabin.

I don’t understand. She shivered.

Are you cold? He was instantly at her side. Let me get you another blanket.

He disappeared into another room and returned seconds later. Here. He wrapped a blue blanket around her shoulders, as if she were made of crystal. That’s better.

Thanks. She smiled at him weakly. I’m— she hesitated. I’m— She looked at him in consternation. I can’t remember my name.

Her stomach flip-flopped with anxiety. What was going on? Why didn’t she know what her name was?

She closed her eyes as a sudden pain in her head overwhelmed her. Putting her hand up to her forehead, as if that would somehow stop the throbbing ache, she closed her eyes. But when she opened them, she saw him – Zach – standing close by, looking at her with concern on his face.

What’s wrong? He hunkered down, so his face was at the same level as hers.

My head, she whispered. It really hurts.

You might be concussed. He straightened, then ran his hands over her head. You have a bump - here. His fingers stroked the tender spot. You need to be checked out by a doctor, but we’re in the middle of a storm, so we can’t go anywhere right now.

His fingers felt cool and capable against her scalp. In another world, she would have given into the temptation to lean into his touch. But she didn’t know her own name, had no idea where she was, and Zach Coltson was a complete stranger to her.

Or was he?

Did he know who she was? Had she known him before her concussion? She must have hit her head somehow. But why had she been on the riverbank? Had he put her there?

Instantly, she dismissed the notion. Instinct told her he had nothing to do with her current situation, save for bringing her to his cabin and keeping her warm. Somehow, she sensed she could trust him with her innermost secrets, and he would keep her safe. But she didn’t even know if she had any secrets.

I’ll get you some ibuprofen. He opened a cupboard in the small kitchen next to the living room and took out a cardboard box, shaking out two pills. Here. Zach crossed back to the sofa, holding out the tablets and a glass of water.

Thanks. She took the pills from his outstretched hand, trying not to touch his palm with the tips of her fingers. But her hand shook, and she grazed his work-toughened palm with the pad of her finger. She inhaled shakily as a ripple of awareness raced down her spine.

Swallowing the pills, she held out the glass to him. He took it from her, and set it on the coffee table.

So, he said carefully, as if he thought that by saying the wrong word, she would instantly bolt. Is there anything you do remember? You were lying unconscious on the riverbank near my cabin.

She closed her eyes, trying to think. But her mind was a complete blank. No. She stared at him helplessly. Why would I be there?

You tell me, he answered, frowning.

She shook her head, wincing as the movement reminded her of her headache. The pills hadn’t kicked in yet.

I don’t know, she whispered.

When I found you, you were cold, and you’re wearing pants and a sweater. You don’t seem have any kind of ID on you.

She looked under the afghan to confirm his words. Long black pants and a lilac sweater. Socks and sneaker-type shoes.

I don’t know, she repeated, bewildered. The ache in her head had receded a little, but she was just as clueless as he was. In fact, he probably possessed more information about the entire situation. A bubble of laughter rose in her throat at the idea, and she wondered if she was becoming hysterical.

I remember ... she thought hard, but her mind was a total blank. She couldn’t remember anything. Think, she commanded herself. But she couldn’t dredge up anything. Her eyelids drooped for a second, before she forced herself to open them. She had to focus.

He must have caught the weary expression on her face because he said gently, Why don’t you try and get some sleep? Maybe when you wake up, you’ll have regained your memory.

Do you think so? She looked at him hopefully. Why couldn’t she remember? And what on earth was she doing at this ranch in the first place?

I hope so, he replied, bending down and tucking the blanket more securely around her shoulders. Are you warm enough?

Yes. She nodded. Thank you.

He smiled at her, and she noticed the way his brown eyes crinkled at the corners. Smiling also made him look younger. Try to get some rest.

***

Zach looked at the sleeping woman, noticing the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. Her delectable chest, covered as it was in the soft fabric of her sweater and the crocheted afghan.

He scowled. He shouldn’t be having such thoughts. She was in trouble. Anyone could see that. And not being able to remember anything made her even more vulnerable.

The last thing he should be doing was finding her attractive.

But there was something about her that drew him to her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was in trouble and obviously needed his help. Which he would gladly give.

How she ended up on the riverbank was a mystery. He’d walked along the same spot yesterday there hadn’t been a soul in sight.

Where had she come from?

What was her name?

Zach sighed and ran his hand through his hair. His gaze strayed to the mahogany framed wall clock, noting the time – just after eleven a.m. Sleet now lashed the outside of the sturdy cabin.

He put another log on the wood stove standing in the corner of the living room. Luckily, he’d brought in a stack of firewood yesterday, not knowing how necessary it would be right now.

He was just thankful he’d done a first aid course recently and had known how to check her for injuries. And to his surprise, he’d also learned that someone with concussion didn’t need to be woken every two hours.

He turned his gaze back to her, his whole body alert as her eyes fluttered open and she took stock of her surroundings.

There was no guile in her gold-flecked eyes. Just a drowsy confusion that she’d woken.

How are you feeling? He squatted down by her side.

She put a small, pale hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn. Okay, I think. 

How’s your headache? He watched her consider the question.

I think it’s gone. She gave him a sleepy smile, and he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He wanted that smile for him, not because her headache had receded.

Good. He rose, his hands lingering on the soft woolen blanket around her shoulders. Go back to sleep.

***

She woke, squinting, and realized she was still in the log cabin. With him. Zach.

She’d hoped it had all been a bad dream, that she’d wake up in her own bed, know who she was, and that would be the end of it. She could dismiss the whole thing and get on with her life, whatever that was.

But no.

Bang! Bang! Wind and sleet hit the window and she flinched, her eyes wide.

What was that?

A freak storm. He grimaced. And it seems to be getting worse. I found you just before it started. That’s why I brought you to my cabin, instead of taking you to hospital or calling the paramedics – they probably wouldn’t have been able to get through.

She looked up at him, worry clouding her expression.

Don’t worry. His tone was gentle. You can stay here as long as you need to.

Thank you. Struggling up against the arm of the sofa, she looked at him apologetically. I don’t think my memory has come back.

He looked disappointed, but also concerned. Why don’t you close your eyes and think of the last thing you remember?

She’d just opened her eyes from her nap, but she obeyed, snapping her eyes shut, trying to shut out the noise from the storm. She crinkled her brow in concentration.

Nothing.

She knew she was lying on a sofa. She knew a blanket covered her body and there was another one around her shoulders. She remembered the stranger’s name – Zach Coltson.

But that was all.

Admitting defeat, she opened her eyes to find him watching her carefully.

I’m sorry, she murmured. But I don’t remember anything.

Not even her own name.

He muttered to himself, and she wondered if it was a curse word. But his tone was mild when he spoke to her.

I’ll get you some more water. He turned on the faucet and filled her glass. Here.

Thank you. She took the glass from him, her fingers grazing against his. Once again, she experienced the jolt of electricity at the slight contact.

She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she’d drained the glass.

More? He took the glass from her.

No. She shook her head. But thank you.

Hungry? He ran an assessing gaze over her.

She considered the question. Was she hungry? She had no idea when she’d last eaten. Perhaps some food would help. Her stomach growled, encouraging her to accept his offer.

Yes. Please.

I’ll fix you some eggs. He paused. Do you like eggs?

She almost giggled at the question, catching his gaze. He seemed to bite back a grin at his blunder.

I guess we’ll soon find out. He took out a frying pan and crossed to the refrigerator for the eggs.

She watched him putter in the kitchen, admiring his form. He wore old faded jeans, but they fit him well, the denim molding to his firm butt and trim waist. His blue shirt comfortable but serviceable on his tall, muscular frame.

The kitchen was small, with cream cabinets, a stove, refrigerator, and a small wood table with two matching chairs – she could see all of it from her position on the sofa – but it seemed adequate for his needs if he lived alone.

A sudden thought struck her.

Did he live alone? Or was there a wife or girlfriend in the picture?

The colorful crocheted rug on her legs indicated it was most likely made by a woman. But the rest of her surroundings seemed decidedly masculine. The brown wood coffee table, the large screen TV against the wall, the old-fashioned clock that read quarter past one on the wall.

There didn’t seem to be any knickknacks – no porcelain figurines, photographs, or vases of flowers.

She twisted her head, wincing a little at the movement. Behind the small living room were two more doorways. Bedroom and bathroom?

And what about her?

Looking down at her hands, she noticed she didn’t wear any rings. Did that mean she was single? Or did she have a boyfriend but just couldn’t remember? Or a husband?

Here you go. He carried a tray, the savory aroma of fried egg teasing her nostrils.

Thanks. She watched him place the tray on her lap, his movements careful, as if he didn’t want to scare her. But how could he? Right now, he was the only thing she felt she could trust.

She forked up a mouthful of egg, the white glistening, the yolk fat and orange. Once she started eating, she couldn’t stop, quickly finishing the two eggs and tempted to ask for more. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been.

I guess you like eggs, he said as he watched her demolish the plate.

I guess, she mumbled around her last mouthful, before remembering it was impolite to talk with your mouth full.

At least she remembered something! But wouldn’t anyone who had a decent upbringing know that?

She drank the glass of water that had appeared on the tray along with the eggs.

You aren’t having something? She looked at him, noticing he’d just watched her devour her meal without eating anything himself. Heat hit her cheeks. What must he have thought? But it wasn’t every day you were found unconscious on a riverbank just before a storm hit, she reasoned. Goodness only knew how long she’d been out there.

No. He shook his head. But I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. How about you?

That sounds good. She smiled tentatively at him. Thank you.

He took the tray from her lap and headed to the kitchen.

She called out, What day is it?

Saturday, he answered, turning on the coffee pot.

Looking at the clock on the wall, she added, And it’s one-thirty in the afternoon?

That’s right. He took out two mugs from one of the cupboards. Cream and sugar? He seemed to immediately recognize his mistake and halted in grabbing what appeared to be a sugar canister.

I’ll try it, she said, the thought of drinking black coffee somehow repugnant to her.

Good idea. He spooned some sugar into a white china mug. If this is how you usually have your coffee, maybe something familiar like this will jog your memory.

Maybe, she said, an edge of doubt in her tone. Was that how regaining your memory worked? By surrounding yourself with familiar things? The problem was, she didn’t know what was familiar to her.

The fried eggs had been delicious, but she’d been hungry. Was that something she’d fix for herself at home?

If she had a home.

She lifted up the afghan and looked down at her figure. From what she could see through the warmth of her sweater and long black pants, it didn’t appear she’d been malnourished when Zach had found her. Practically the opposite.

She held up her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her sweater and eyeing her bare forearm. It certainly wasn’t a skeleton arm. It wasn’t a super fat arm either, but it definitely had some flesh on it.

Coffee. He held out the mug to her.

She dropped her arm, hoping he hadn’t noticed what she’d been doing. Thanks. She curled her hand around the cup, allowing the warmth to seep through her cold palm.

She took a cautious sip. The percolated coffee tasted