Healing Hearts by C.B. Clark Genre: Western Romantic Suspense
Reeling from loss and heartbreak, Stella King is desperate to escape painful memories. The position of nanny on an isolated ranch in British Columbia’s rugged Chilcotin Plateau seems the answer to her prayers. Cattle rancher, Dawson Wheeler, has worked hard to overcome grief and build a predictable world for his young daughter. The last thing he needs is the all-too-attractive Stella disrupting the smooth running of his ranch, especially now that disturbing incidents are happening on his property. Defending his land against those who want to gut it will be a challenge, but the biggest threat of all may be to his heart. Add to Goodreads Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo
Award-winning author, C.B. Clark has written six romantic suspense novels published by The Wild Rose Press. C.B. has always loved reading, especially romances, but it wasn’t until she lost her voice for a year that she considered writing her own romantic suspense stories. She grew up in Canada’s Northwest Territories and Yukon. Graduating with a degree in Anthropology and Archaeology, she has worked as an archaeologist and an educator. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness of central British Columbia. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
The back of his neck itched. “You’re Stella King?” Of course she was. Who else would be
waiting here at this time of night? Once again he glanced at the photograph clenched in his
hand—gray curls, thick glasses, sixty years old. This was the Stella King he’d hired. The itching
amped up to a full-out assault.
She stood and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Dawson.”
He stumbled back a step, his worst fears confirmed. This gorgeous woman was the nanny he’d
hired to look after Deirdre.
Her light blue wool sweater did nothing to hide the rounded mounds of her breasts. Her legs
looked a mile long in the white denim, skin tight, designer jeans tucked into a pair of knee-high,
high-heeled, black leather boots. Her perfume wafted on the evening breeze, a heady mix of
spring flowers and something subtle but decidedly feminine.
He struggled to swallow, but his throat was parched, his tongue as dry as old leather against the
roof of his mouth.
Silence stretched between them. An owl hooted from a nearby tree, crickets chirped in the tall
grass lining the ditch, and still he didn’t move as the ramifications of what he’d agreed to
engulfed him.
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