Sweet Dreams, Baby

By CJ Carmichael

Three weeks ago, Portia Bishop mailed a letter to the father of her baby, Saddle Bronc rider Austin Bradshaw. It’s a letter she should have written a long time ago—like when she first found out she was pregnant, shortly after she ended things with Austin, dropped out of college, and went running to her family in Marietta, Montana.

Austin has loved Portia since he first laid his eyes on her in college. A year ago, he convinced her to do something impulsive and very romantic. Now, as he opens her letter, Austin has two reasons to return to Marietta–win back the heart of the woman he still loves and convince her he's a good bet for a forever man and father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Sep 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781947636071

Book preview

Author

Chapter One

Three weeks had passed since Portia Bishop mailed the letter she should have sent almost a year earlier. Three very long weeks.

She stood at the open door to the Copper Mountain Chocolate Shop and looked up and down Main Street, Marietta. It was three in the afternoon, and the only movement she could spy in the small Montana town was the fluttering of the golden-colored leaves on the aspen trees. No sign of the cowboy she’d glimpsed a few moments ago.

Had it been Austin Bradshaw?

It could have been.

The man had been tall and lanky. He’d worn his white cowboy hat at the exact same angle Austin did. The distance had been too far to make out the man’s features, but she could have sworn dark brown hair curled around the collar of his western-styled shirt.

So it could have been Austin Bradshaw.

But it might not have been, either.

This town practically crawled with good-looking cowboys, all dressed similarly in jeans, boots, western-styled shirts, and hats. But she’d had the impression this cowboy was watching the chocolate shop—her?—intently.

Portia slipped back inside the shop, resisting the urge to freshen her lipstick and release her long hair from the clip holding her ponytail. Even if she truly had seen Austin, it wasn’t like her appearance would matter. Not when there was someone much more important on the scene.

She peered over the counter to where her three-and-a-half-month-old son was sleeping in the portable cot she kept for him at the shop. His little hand was fisted and pressed up to his chin. Downy, white hair framed his chubby little face. Zavy was so darned cute. She had to resist the urge to pick him up for a cuddle.

But that would be breaking one of the cardinal rules of mothering—never disturb a sleeping baby. Portia was lucky Aunt Sage—who owned the chocolate shop and hand-made most products—was also a mother. Her advice and guidance had been so helpful the first month when Portia struggled with breastfeeding, interrupted sleep patterns, and a sometimes-colicky infant.

Portia wished her own mom—Sage’s sister Mattie—could have left the ranch she shared with her second husband Nat Diamond in the Flathead Valley to help her with the new baby. But her mom had only managed a two-day visit when the baby was born.

No doubt she was still upset with Portia for leaving college, one year shy of her degree, as was Portia’s twin sister Wren. Brilliant Wren, now working on her master’s degree at Berkley, thought nothing in the world was as important as a good education.

Portia realized her family had a point. But she would never regret her decision to carry Zavy to term and keep him, even though she was a young mom, staring down a future of living without a partner on a salesclerk’s salary.

Portia glanced out the front window again, this time searching for potential customers. There’d been a brief spike in business the first week of September when Sage offered a back-to-school promotion, but now sales had settled into a languorous lull.

She’d been told the shop would usually be gearing up for the rodeo by now—the influx of cowboys and spectators was terrific for business—but there’d been a terrible fire on the fairgrounds in August and the bleachers, pens, and loading docks had been lost. An official investigation into the suspected arson was being carried out by the authorities, but even if they found the culprit, it wouldn’t change anything.

Marietta’s famous Copper Mountain Rodeo simply had to be cancelled this year. And unless sufficient funds were found to rebuild the facilities, they might not take place next year either.

Portia dusted shelves for a while, admiring the beautiful displays of decadent treats, including her current favorite of eggnog and rum truffles. Somehow Sage had concocted the perfect blend of white chocolate, cream, spices, and rum. The creamy texture and rich flavors made Portia’s taste buds explode, every time.

Portia put away the duster and went to check her son again. Still sleeping like an angel. She was lucky Zavy took such long afternoon naps. Soon, she’d have to sort out childcare for when she was working, but every week she could postpone that decision allowed her to sock a little more into savings.

She was on the stepstool, rearranging the copper boxes on the top shelf at the front of the store, when the shop phone let out a chime. She scrambled down to answer before it could ring again and possibly wake the baby.

Copper Mountain Chocolates, Portia speaking.

The is Penny Fulbright. Is Sage there?

Penny was Sage’s accountant. She was working on a cash-flow statement to take to the bank in case their grouchy landlord, Stanley Scranton, agreed to let the chocolate shop lease the adjoining space that had once been used for a travel agency. Sage’s business was at a point now where expanding was crucial. Sage desperately needed more kitchen space, and the shop itself was too tiny to accommodate all the special events they hosted every month. Once the new lease was signed, Sage could go to the bank to secure a loan to cover leasehold improvements, and then construction could begin. Hopefully, they’d be able to open the deluxe, expanded shop in early November with plenty of time for the holiday rush.

Sage isn’t available right now, but she’ll be in early tomorrow morning. Can you call back then?

I’d rather not put this off.

Yikes. That didn’t sound good.

Do you have the number for her cell?

Yes, but if I call her at home, she’ll only be distracted.

Penny obviously knew Sage well. With a deputy for a husband, a chatty grade-school student for a stepdaughter, and an active toddler son, Sage’s house was usually the definition of organized chaos.

I suppose this can wait until tomorrow, Penny conceded.

I’m glad to help, if I can.

Afraid that’s not possible. Thanks, though.

Portia hung up feeling vaguely worried. Slow September aside, she’d had the impression cash flow and revenue were on an upswing at her aunt’s shop. She’d hoped the changes she’d implemented since her arrival last fall—especially the monthly PR events—would increase profits. Judging from Penny’s tone, that wish might have been optimistic.

Zavy let out a peeved cry, and Portia pushed aside financial concerns as she hurried to pick him up.

You awake already, little guy?

He peered up at her with his enormous blue eyes, a tiny tear glistening in the corner of one of them.

Come to Mommy.

It was so gratifying to see a smile suddenly brighten his face. She put a bottle of the milk she expressed every night into a pan of hot water to heat, then carried Zavy to the washroom to change his diaper.

Of course, Murphy’s Law dictated that just as it was time to feed him, the first customer in an hour had to show up. Portia’s stress turned to pleasure when she saw it was one of her favorite regulars, Josie Morgan, a fragile senior who lived at Kindred Spirits and was addicted to Sage’s hot chocolate.

Josie! I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you yet today.

I had an unexpected visit from my grandson Dylan. He’s extremely happy these days—don’t you think his weather reports have been getting more accurate?

For sure. Portia was certain a little white lie was called for here. Would you mind holding Zavy while I get your hot chocolate?

Are you kidding? Josie settled in one of the chairs and then held out her arms. I’m not sure which I’m more addicted to now. The hot chocolate or my baby cuddles.

I was just starting to feed him.

Hand me the bottle, too, then.

Portia totally trusted Josie, but the elderly woman was so frail she made sure her son was safely ensconced in Josie’s arms, and feeding happily, before she turned to the copper pot where the hot chocolate was made. As she heated a fresh batch, aromas of rich chocolate with subtle notes of vanilla and cinnamon made her taste buds water. In the background, she could hear Josie cooing to her son.

You are the sweetest thing, aren’t you? Absolutely perfect. Rather strange name your mother gave you, but there are so many weird names these days it shouldn’t make for problems on the playground.

Portia rolled her eyes. Josie wasn’t one to withhold her opinions. Mind you, but she wasn’t the first who had raised her eyebrows about the name Xavier.

Portia felt a lump of sadness and worry well up in her throat as she thought of the one person who would understand why she’d chosen that name. Automatically, her gaze went to the window.

Had she seen Austin Bradshaw?

Or only wished she had?

*

As he settled in with his late lunch—a beef and cheddar wrap and a green smoothie—Austin Bradshaw felt as if he were visiting an eccentric old aunt. The Java Café was filled was mismatched chairs and sofas, all upholstered in a variety of colored fabrics. He had to admit the chairs were comfortable, though.

Before taking his first bite, he glanced out the window at the chocolate shop across the way. He couldn’t see beyond the display of artfully arranged copper boxes and chocolate temptations. Probably a good thing. If he could actually see Portia, there was no way he’d have the appetite to eat his lunch. Just knowing she was a stone’s throw away made his gut tighten the way it did in the seconds before the starting horn in a rodeo competition.

But he’d been on the road since five that morning, subsisting on roadside coffee and packets of peanuts. He needed real food.

Deliberately, he shifted his chair until he was facing the interior of the restaurant. Only then could he manage a bite of his wrap. The beef and cheddar blended perfectly with the tangy horseradish sauce and crunchy lettuce. His stomach rumbled thanks, and Austin took a second bite.

At the table next to him, a pretty redhead who looked around twenty gave him a shy smile. He pretended he hadn’t noticed. Attention from strange women still made him uncomfortable even after five summers on the rodeo circuit. Partly for this reason, and partly for reasons of his own, he avoided the bars and saloons his buddies flocked to after competitions.

Austin preferred to hang out at coffee shops, usually with his laptop and a good book.

He had neither with him right now. He’d sprung out of his truck without any plan whatsoever, just a compelling need to see Portia.

It was only when he’d glimpsed her through the window of the chocolate shop—her honey-colored hair in a ponytail showing off her pretty, heart-shaped face—that he’d panicked.

After all this time, he couldn’t show up grimy from a ten-hour drive, practically insane from months—hell, an entire year—of not seeing or hearing from her.

From the front pocket of his shirt, Austin pulled out the letter. He’d read it so often the paper was starting to tear at the creases. He studied it again now, searching for answers that simply weren’t there.

It’s time we talked.

Damn right it was time they talked. He’d tried reaching out to her in every way he could think of, but she’d closed her Facebook and Instagram accounts shortly after she’d dropped out of college, leaving him hurt, confused, and lonely in Seattle. He still couldn’t believe she’d forfeited her degree just one year shy of graduation.

Did she hate him that much?

If so, why? More than anything, Austin wished he knew what he’d done wrong. He’d thought they were perfectly happy when he’d left for his last rodeo competition before starting the fall semester at the University of Washington. But when he’d returned—with a thousand bucks of prize money in his wallet—Portia had been gone. She’d left only the briefest of farewell notes, with a request he give her some time to think things over.

Okay, maybe he’d been the perfectly happy one.

And there had been a few signs—especially since their summer weekend in Reno—that she was feeling on edge. But he had never guessed she was about to leave him.

And it had just about killed him. For Portia, he’d do almost anything. If she would just tell him the problem, he knew he could fix it.

But during the past year, she’d closed all potential avenues of communication, rejecting his attempted phone calls, not answering his texts. He’d tried contacting her mother and her sister. Via Wren, he’d discovered she moved to Montana to work at her aunt’s chocolate shop.

He’d lost no time in traveling to Marietta, but she’d deliberated avoided him again, at which point he’d asked a friend to look in on her. But Jamie had no luck either. On Valentine’s Day, Austin had sent red roses, hoping to finally get a reply. But there’d been nothing.

Until this. He read the letter again, even though he knew it held no answers for him. Those could only come from the woman in the building across the street. He allowed himself to look again. A tiny elderly lady exited the shop, a to-go cup in her hand. Behind the lady he caught a brief glance of Portia holding something close as she walked past the open door. Then nothing.

Austin took the last bite of his wrap, then downed his smoothie. He hadn’t booked a place to stay, but in happier times, Portia had told him about a bed and breakfast in town. The Bramble House was owned by some old relative of hers and managed by a second cousin. He’d try there first.

Once he was settled, showered, and changed into clean clothes, he’d come back to find Portia.

He couldn’t agree more. It was time they talked.

Chapter Two

The three-story Victorian on Bramble Lane was handsome and well kept, too respectable to have ghosts, hidden treasure, or terrible secrets. Too bad. Ever since Austin had read House of Leaves by Danielewski, he’d been itching to stay in a real haunted house. He figured one of the oldest manors in Marietta might be a candidate—until he saw it.

Urns with cheery flowers flanked the entryway, and the black shutters gleamed with fresh paint. Inside, he’d bet the door hinges were freshly oiled and plush wool carpets drowned the sound of squeaky floorboards.

A sign at the impressive entry invited him to press the buzzer. When he did, he heard the faint pealing of a bell. Within seconds the door was opened by an athletic-looking blonde with a leash in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

Can I help you?

Hello, I’m Austin Bradshaw. I’m looking for a room for a couple of days at least. Hopefully longer.

Hi, Austin. I’m Eliza. Good thing you caught us. My husband and I were just about to take our dog for a walk. She stepped back from the threshold. Come on in. We have a couple of rooms for you to choose from. Just make yourself at home while I round up my laptop. She gestured to a cozy sitting area to the right of the large foyer.

A midsized brown dog snoozed by the hearth in the spacious sitting room. There was no fire, of course, on this warmish September day. Austin perched on one of the leather sofas and studied the dog. He looked a lot more interested in continuing his nap than going on any sort of walk.

On a table by the sofa was a book about the Bramble family history. Austin picked it up and leafed through the pages. He wondered if he could learn anything here that would help him understand Portia better. He’d read through the dedication and introduction by the time Eliza returned.

We have a suite available on the third floor. I’ll be honest—it’s quite pricey. For a quarter of the cost, you could have the Blue Room on the second floor. But that’s only available until the weekend. Eliza scrolled down the page. The room over the garage is vacant until the end of October. It’s very old-fashioned compared to the rooms in the main house, but it does have the advantage of a kitchenette and a separate entry.

Austin hesitated. If things didn’t go well with Portia, he might be leaving tomorrow morning. But it wasn’t in his nature to assume the worst. I’ll take the room over the garage.

She smiled. Perfect. I’ll grab the key and meet you out back. Would you like me to call my husband to help with your luggage? There’s a long flight of stairs to get up to the room.

I’ll be fine.

Her eyes twinkled. "I figured

Reviews for Sweet Dreams, Baby

[sueyates · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I have to agree with the other reviewers. This book is not one of the author's best books. I am prejudiced though because I have a son with two beautiful children and he would be devastated if he had missed one second of his children's life. The only reason a mother would deny her child his father is if she is extremely selfish. If the father is any threat to the child then she should protect the child. This character had no excuse for her behavior concerning her reasons for a divorce. She hadn't experienced any trauma. I'm sorry but I know that in a romance the characters have to reconcile for the story to have a fairytale ending. But Austen deseved a woman who really loved him. I do normally like this author's books so just find one of her other books to read.

[booksandmunches · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

If there's one good thing to be mentioned, it's the overall story, the concept of this novel. I really liked what the author had in mind. The whole idea of someone already having a romantic history, having a baby her ex doesn't know about... It's something else than seeing a relationship bloom from scratch and I liked it!When it comes to the writing, I did like the way Carmichael went about it. I could easily follow the MC's train of thought and understood their actions.But... A huge but.First of all, all conversations in this novel simply felt forced, fake and artificial. I couldn't help it but pretty much every single conversation just passed me by without touching me in any way.On top of that, I didn't feel any spark. I didn't feel the romance. I didn't crave for that one magical kiss we all know is coming in novels like this. I just didn't. And in a novel like this you need to feel that. If you don't, something's definitely wrong.Although I did like the idea, the whole execution was an enormous disappointment for me and I just can't ignore that...1 / 5

[carrie88-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this light (but enjoyable) read and also meeting these unique characters from this fictional Montana town of Marietta. The love story between Portia and Austin is a sweet one and I enjoyed reading from both of their perspectives. I didn't realize this was a book series, but will definitely have to check the others out!

[caslater83 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I received this ARC in exchange for a review. For a novella, it was a nice easy read. I finished in less than 3 hours. I think the storyline is good but needs to be expanded. I really wasn't feeling the tension between Portia and Austin as much as I wanted to. I knew they would stay together, but the whole thing from start to finish needed some more building up and more meat to the story. It's fairly good. It just needs more material! If there is another book added to the series, I hope that it will be a little longer.

[ash_p-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Portia's book is the one I've been waiting for since the beginning. I did think she was being stubborn by not talking about her situation at the beginning of the series but with further books, I thought maybe she had gone through something traumatic like sexual assault and didn't want to burden her boyfriend with the resulting baby.

Come book 12 and it turns out she was just running scared from her relationship because of her own parents' failed relationship. That ticked me off so I was team Austin all the way. But man, isn't he just such a great guy! If you ask me I think he let her off too easy.

Advanced Review Copy provided by the publisher through NetGalley for voluntary review consideration.