A dilapidated house, a city girl looking for a tree change, and a rugged vet with a past. Just another day in rural Australia…
Just ten days after her fresh start in the isolated Snowy Mountains, Samantha Walker trips over a three hundred pound pig and lands in the arms of Dr. Ethan Granger — and the firing line for gossip. It was hardly a ‘date’ but sparks of the sensual kind are difficult to smother in a community of only 87 people. Now there’s a bet running on how long she’ll stay and what she’ll get up to while she’s in town.
Ethan has his own issues — Sammy’s presence in his childhood home brings with it painful recollections of family scandals and a bad‐boy youth. When the gossip around them heightens, his life is suddenly a deck of cards spread on the table for all to see. Then Sammy's past catches up with her... and it looks like all bets are off.
Excerpt:
Sammy
threw herself on top of her, lying flat-out. ‘Don’t move. Please don’t move.’
The pig’s body had sunk another four inches already. Sammy petted her nose and
spoke softly. ‘Not long, baby. Ethan will be here soon.’
As though her prayer had been
answered, the sound of his ute’s engine sang on the breeze. She couldn’t see
over the ridge high above her but she recognised the engine’s hum the way a
faithful dog left at home would. And Mrs. Johnson’s 4WD was behind it.
Both vehicles stopped, engines
running. A door slammed, the children’s voices rose, sounding like pleas, and
then Ethan’s voice, the low steady timbre telling the children to stay clear.
‘Here we go,’ Sammy whispered, and
wondered if she was calming Ruby or advising herself to remain controlled when
she saw him.
The ute’s engine purred, then the
tow bar came into her view. The door opened and closed. The tarpaulin ruffled
on the tray. Some shifting sounds, and his voice again, asking the children to
bring his bag.
Sammy breathed deeply, steadying
herself when he stepped to the edge of the ridge.
The afternoon sunshine shone on his
back. The wind billowed his tan checked shirt and blew his sandy hair across
his brow. For a moment, he melded with the breeze and the tall gum tree behind
him like a painting from another era. A time of bushmen, and horses and roping;
the layers of oil on canvas darkened at the edges. The sunshine glistening
through the emerald green of the tree branches, resting like a halo on the
shoulders of a man at home on the open land.
Legs akimbo, rescue gear in his
hands, he looked as though he could ring any bell in the world.
Sammy’s heartbeat skittered. She
hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since yesterday in the kitchen and hadn’t
expected to be in touch with him until … She didn’t know. Didn’t have any idea
what would happen between them next.
He had his gaze on Ruby. Then it
moved to Sammy, and his eyes narrowed.
Ruby shuffled her snout, as though
she sensed his presence. She oinked, and wriggled in the mud.
Sammy put her hands flat on the
pig’s midriff, and pushed to keep her still. She glanced up to the ridge again.
It was the strangest moment to feel thrilled. She had no right to it, but no
matter what he was doing - holding rabbits, patting horses or saving pigs, her
heart would always burn with pride at his composure. He was a flagship of
strength and her eyes would always welcome the sight of him.
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Born and brought up in Wales, Jennie loved anything with a romantic element from the age of five. At eighteen, she went to drama school in London then spent a number of years performing in British theatres, becoming someone else two hours, eight shows a week.
Jennie wrote her first romance story at the age of twenty five whilst ‘resting’ (a theatrical term for Out of work). She wrote a western and sent if off to Mills & Book in the UK who politely and correctly declined. She put writing to one side after that and took a musical theatre job. Which brings Jennie to her favourite quotation: “Fate keeps on happening.” - Anita Loos.
When Jennie’s life changed and a new country, marriage and motherhood beckoned, she left acting and the UK.
She now lives in Western Australia, a five minute walk to the beach that she loves to look at but hardly ever goes to due to there being too much sand. (Sand is like glitter; once it gets between your toes, you keep finding it in the house for months.)
Jennie returned to writing three years ago. She says it keeps her artistic nature dancing and her imagination bubbling. Like acting, she can’t envisage a day when writing will ever get boring.
Where to find Jennie:
@JJRomance
