Love's Sweet Challenge: Bindarra Creek Small Town Sweet Romances

By S E Gilchrist and Suzanne Gilchrist

Will her dream of a new life disappear once the festival is over? 

Yearning to gain her father's love, Opal Morse has turned her back on her career to work in his law firm. When she hears about Bindarra Creek's inaugural Scavenger Challenge, she can't resist the opportunity of a week spent in a small country town far from the pressures of the city.

When another lonely soul, Grady Flannigan, comes to her aid in helping a donkey in labour, the kindness of this gentle farmer re-ignites her childhood dreams.

Will family expectations prove too strong? Or will Opal and Grady take a chance on a new life for themselves - together?

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Love's Sweet Challenge is a contemporary, sweet romance set in a fictional small town featuring compelling and quirky characters, love, drama and suspense. Similar to books by Barbara Hannay, Bella Andre, Melody Grace, Nora Roberts, Maisey Yates, Fiona McArthur, Heidi McLaughlin, Annie Seaton, Pamela M Kelley, Liz Isaacson, Lilly Mirran, Carolyn Brown, Natalie Dean.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mallee Star Enterprises
• Release date: Sep 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648752004

S E Gilchrist

SE can't remember a time when she didn't have a book in her hand. Now she writes her own stories where her favourite words are ...'what if' and 'where'? She combines passionate romance with action and adventure set in dangerous worlds. Her heroines are valiant and know exactly what to do with their alpha heroes. She writes in the romance genres of sci fi / futuristic, fantasy, post apocalyptic/dystopian, ancient history. An Aussie to her backbone, SE lives down-under, in the beautiful Hunter Valley of Australia.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Opal Morse waited alongside her fellow workmates while their rising star, Geoffrey Talbott Jnr. punctuated his spiel with a fist held high. His eyes blazed with fervour as he paced back and forth over the freshly mown grass of Fig Tree Lodge. His aqua-checked Thomas Cook shirt teamed with a pair of tan R. M. Williams moleskin pants, merely served to highlight the stark differences between city and country instead of blending in, which was the effect Opal was certain he’d hoped to achieve.

In our vast oceans, it’s eat or be eaten, he bellowed. In Morse and Talbott, this shark mentality has made our company powerful. Each and everyone of us, now has a chance to show we’re worthy. But only one will win the coveted Morse and Talbott Endurance Cup.

Hurriedly Opal averted her gaze before she burst into laughter. Really, Geoffrey Jnr. acted like he was the second coming.

Murmuring soft ‘hellos’, she edged to the outer rim of the obedient circle and paused beneath the shade of a massive fig tree at least thirty metres high. Her bare feet curled over the delicious softness of buffalo grass while she studied the ancient tree. With such a huge height and wide canopy, it had to be well over one hundred years old. What history had the tree witnessed? Nearby, a rope and tyre swing hung from a low branch.

Tempting. But her childhood was long past and although it was Saturday, technically it was a work-day.

The morning had dawned sultry with sullen grey clouds cloaking the sky above the small rural township of Bindarra Creek. Now, a few hours later, a mere whisper of a breeze stirred what promised to be a warm and humid day. Leaves rustled. The tinkling of tiny wind chimes suggested a hint of magic in what threatened to be gruelling hours spent in the company of a man she’d prefer to avoid.

Opal wasn’t a fool. She knew quite well what Geoffrey Jnr. saw when he looked at her–the last surviving child of Dick Morse, senior partner and founder of their prestigious law firm. A guaranteed ticket to a secure partnership.

Not love.

Not even sex.

He certainly never saw the woman inside–or the wistful dreams she still harboured in the lonely hours of the night.

She knew what she saw whenever she looked at him–smooth, good-looking with his perfectly-cut beach-blond hair, clear blue eyes and wide smile. Driven, ruthless, charming–the same traits as her father. She also saw the man her father had made quite plain, was the only one he’d ever accept as her husband.

But her father wasn’t here, and she intended to make the most of this short sojourn in what she’d discovered to be a delightful pocket of rural New South Wales.

She drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with the delicious scents of the country. Even the pong of nearby cows brought a smile to her lips.

What a fantastic idea.

When she’d spotted the short advertisement in the pages of a rural e-magazine she read religiously every month, she’d been captivated and so, planted the seed of an idea in Geoffrey’s mind.

Bindarra Creek Organic Festival. A week-long celebration of markets, local arts and crafts with a three-day Scavenger Challenge to kick it all off.

Geoffrey Jnr. had practically fallen over his feet, in his rush to present ‘his’ plan to the big boss–the Scavenger Challenge–perfect for the firm’s annual Endurance Cup competition.

Remember–there is only, ever, one winner.

Rolling her eyes, Opal blocked out Geoffrey’s voice.

I reckon he could talk his way into a nunnery.

The voice came from behind.

Opal turned, her nose twitching as she inhaled the scent of…surely not? Her mouth fell open a trifle and she stared at the grey-haired woman dressed in a multi-coloured, tie-dyed cotton dress.

The old lady stubbed out her smoke under a pink gum boot and winked at Opal. Edwina Lette, Ms.

She held out her hand.

Somewhat bemused, Opal extended hers only to have the woman turn it over and examine her palm.

Well, well. Your path is blurred and riddled with shadows. Ms Lette raked Opal’s face with a sharp gaze and frowned. You’re not happy child.

Heat scalded Opal’s cheeks and she quickly withdrew her hand. It’s just a trick. Probably a part she’s playing for the festival. Deciding to ignore the provocative comment, she murmured, I’m Opal Morse, here with my workmates for the challenge.

Ms Lette fished inside a hemp bag slung over her shoulder and withdrew a clipboard. She ran a finger down a list. I see. You’re partnered with a Geoffrey Talbott.

They both looked to where Geoffrey was finally winding up his ‘motivational’ speech to polite applause.

Let’s see if I can find someone more appealing. Grinning, Ms Lette examined her list.

No thank you, Ms Lette. It’s fine. I’m–I’d prefer to remain with Geoffrey.

Call me Edwina. Clearly not buying the sentiment behind her words, the old lady raised her eyebrows, a tiny smile curving her lips. Tessa said you might be here longer than the three days of the Challenge. She’s my grandson’s wife and would have checked you in when you arrived. Do you think you’ll stay the entire week?

Yes, I decided this morning. This will be my first real holiday for some time. Opal’s gaze drifted past the woman, drinking in the well-maintained gardens and the magnificent, historic house called Fig Tree Lodge and where they had stayed last night. It’s quite lovely.

My grandson did most of the work. Now he’s got Tessa enthusiastic about restoring old places as well. They make quite a team.

I was impressed to see you have an electronic key system.

"Yes, another of Tessa’s ideas for