Rev. Samantha Evans loves living in Moose Creek, Maine, the land
of moose and men … or namely one man, her fiancé, Eric Palmer. The problem? Trouble
looms large in the form of his meddling ex-wife. She lives right around the
corner.
Forest ranger, Eric Palmer, wants nothing more than to plan his
wedding and marry the woman he loves. Not that life makes it very easy.
Samantha’s busy schedule, interfering ex-wife, missing college students, and a
misplaced pregnant moose, all conspire against him.
Will the two ever find the time to clear the air and concentrate
on their relationship? Or will their lives continue to be a series of Moosed
Opportunities?
Extract:
CHAPTER
1
“NO, MOM, I’M NOT GOING to call
Brady Logan for a date. Would you please give up that notion and move on? What
part of ‘I’m engaged to Eric’, don’t you understand?” Rev. Samantha Evans
tucked her cell phone under her chin, shimmied out of her heavy coat, and
shivered as it hit the carpet. Her fiancé of a scant four months, Eric Palmer,
called April in northern Maine “chilly.” Ha. She called it downright frigid.
“But dear, I
don’t think I’m comfortable with this man you say you’re engaged to. He doesn’t
even have a real job.”
Samantha plopped
down on the couch in the church parsonage she called home and jerked off her
boots. “He does too have a real job. He’s a forest ranger.”
She rested her
head on the back of the sofa and covered her mouth as she yawned. She didn’t
mean to sound harsh, but her mother had a way about her that jangled the
nerves. Lord, grant me patience.
Quickly.
Her mother
droned on. “Didn’t you say he wrestles moose? Doesn’t sound like a real job to
me.”
“Not a moose
wrestler. A moose wrangler. As in, he
catches moose and places radio collars on their necks in order to track their
movements. He—”
“That nice boy,
Logan Brady, is an accountant. That’s a real job.” Samantha’s mother sniffed.
If you like him so much, you marry him, Mom.
Fortunately she
had sense enough not to say that out loud. Neither of her parents would find it
funny. She dialed her voice down to the serene setting. “I thought his name was
Brady Logan? Never mind. I’m going to marry Eric Palmer, and I’m happy, Mom.
Really happy.”
Samantha had
been floating on cloud eighteen ever since her sweetie had shocked her with the
super-romantic proposal right before Christmas. She loved that man with all her
being. Why was that so hard for her mother to understand?
“Samantha, I just
want you to weigh your options. Don’t be so quick to jump into a commitment.
Why would you say yes to the first man who comes along? I wouldn’t want you to
regret a missed opportunity.”
Missed
opportunity? Her mom had been hounding her for years to get out there and find
a suitable marriage partner. The phrase “not getting any younger” had come up
in conversations countless times. And now that Samantha had dashed headlong into
the happy state of betrothal, her mother wanted her to back up?
Samantha’s Maine
Coon cat, Jezebel, sailed into her lap and kneaded her thigh. With two superfluous
toes on each of Bel’s front paws, the cat had the art of massage down pat.
Maybe Samantha could rent her out to a day spa to bring in additional money.
The buzzer on her stove hummed and Samantha winced as a sharp claw dug into her
kneecap. She unhooked the sharp, curved spike on that extra-large paw and
whispered, “Ouch, baby girl. Watch it.”
“What did you
say? When are you going to bring this Eric person down to meet us? You’ve been
engaged for months now and we haven’t met this man yet. Your father’s worried
about you.”
Samantha
sincerely doubted that. Her father was always in her corner. “Hey, Mom? I have
dinner in the oven so I’ve got to go. Please say hello to Dad.”
“But when are
you coming to visit? Maryland is only a day’s drive.”
A long day’s drive, which they could do
just as easily. “We’ll try to come soon. Bye-bye.”
Samantha ended
the call, deposited Bel on the floor, and rose to switch off the demanding
buzzer. She peeked in the oven. Almost done. She turned the temperature to
warm, the savory scent of her first attempt at a Yankee pot roast making her
mouth water. She had let the dish cook while she’d polished her sermon at the
church office across the parking lot. The furnace in the Free Methodist Church where
she pastored was acting up again, and she was tired of the added layers she had
to wear. It might be early spring in northern Maine, but when she was indoors
she didn’t want to dress up like an Eskimo … a French-Canadian Eskimo, anyway.
At least it was
nice and warm in her own little place. Maybe if she rearranged the space she could
cram a desk in here. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Eric should
be here soon so she’d better get a move on and change. She was struggling to
extricate herself from her cardigan when her doorbell chimed. With one arm
still stuck in a sleeve, she heaved the door open.
Genevieve
Leblanc, her friend from down the street, blew in with the north wind.
“Harrumph. Lisa. That’s all I have to say. Lisa!”
Samantha shut
the door with a thump and smirked. “What’s your new housemate done now?”
Gen reached out
and tugged on Samantha’s stubbornly clingy piece of clothing, freeing her to
begin unbuttoning the vest underneath. “She just acts so … so … superior would be a kind word. Nothing
anybody does or thinks or says is good enough. She’s driving me crazy. She’s
got that fancy car too, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Totally
useless in the snow.”
“You got it. Guess
who she’s conned into driving her to work?”
Samantha patted
Gen on the shoulder. “You’re at the top of my list. What a nice thing to do.
Here, come sit down.”
Genevieve threw
her coat over the back of the wing chair and settled herself on the threadbare
cushion. “My sentiments exactly, but now she’s treating me like a taxi service.
I don’t mind lugging her around once in a while, but she really needs to get
her own transportation. Plus, she criticizes my driving. She says I drive too
slow. I drive slow because I want to get where I’m going in one piece.”
“Unlike many of
the tourists who slide through the snow as if cars were sleighs. Not fun.”
Samantha tilted her head. “It’s all my fault for mentioning you had half a house
to rent. Sorry.”
“Hey, I’m the
one who said yes and took her in. I’ve always been a sucker for a sob story and
she’s got a good one.” Gen sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“Pot roast.
Eric’s going to be here soon. We haven’t had a moment to see each other all
week, so we’re trying to do a Saturday night date thing. I’m cooking, and he’s
bringing the movie.”
“Oh, I’d better
get out of here, then.”
Samantha turned
the oven light on and peered at the roast. Yep. Doing nicely. “Sure you can’t
stay a few more minutes? I could put the kettle on and you could fill me in on
that date you had last week. Wasn’t it Philippe the bartender at the Blue Moose
this time?”
“Yeah, and you
don’t want to know. Disaster city.”
“I’m sorry. He
seemed nice.”
“Seems nice and
acts nice are two different things.” A pained expression flitted across Gen’s
face. She managed a tiny smile and shrugged.
“Nary a hint?”
“Oh, all right.
How about the man has no brains? He may be eye candy, but he’s incapable of
having a thought that doesn’t include hockey scores or the best way to mix a
drink. Shaken or stirred or … who cares? He spent precious minutes of my
valuable time extolling the virtues of mimosas. How can you sustain a
relationship on that?”
Samantha cracked
a smile. Free Methodists and mimosas didn’t mix well either.
“I guess the
older I get the less I care about that sort of thing.” Gen buffed her lacquered
nails on her scarf. “I’m not in college anymore, and I want a man who can hold
down an adult conversation. Not a juvenile, but not stuffy either. Just real,
you know?”
Samantha did
know, and she daily thanked God for Eric. She pursed her lips. How could such a
sweet, pretty girl have such a hard time meeting the right man? Samantha had
only known Gen for a few months now, but it was long enough to notice she drew
admiring glances from all the guys in town. Maybe that was the problem. She
intimidated the good fellows and encouraged the bad. An idea sprouted. “I
could—”
“No, you
couldn’t.” Genevieve jumped from the chair and gathered her coat. “If Eric’s on
his way, I’ll take my leave so you two lovebirds can be alone. Besides, I have
to get home, feed the cat, and figure out how to confront Lisa.”
“Good luck with
that.”
“Say hello to your
hunky fiancé.” Gen floated out the door with the grace of a songbird on the
wing.
Samantha shut
the door in a hurry. Eric maintained it was a strange spring thus far, with extreme
dips and peaks on the thermometer. Tonight, the temps were predicted to plunge
into the single digits.
She yanked the
scratchy wool vest over her head and quickly shrugged on the shell-pink
cashmere twin set she’d discovered at an L.L. Bean outlet. Her sister Cecelia had
sent her a gift card for Christmas, and she’d used the whole thing on the deal
of the century. The incredibly soft sweater had been marked way down because it
had two buttons missing. Seriously? Only two buttons gone and the velvety
treasure had been marked half price?
Samantha wasn’t very
good when it came to sewing, unlike her friend Marion Landry, matriarch at the
church. The older lady had acted as if Samantha was doing her a favor by giving her something to repair. She’d returned the
mended sweater the next day and refused even a token payment.
She crossed her
arms, caressing the cozy cashmere with her palms. But it wasn’t the soft fibers
that warmed her. Eric would be there soon and the concept of being with her
true-love filled her with wonder. She danced into the kitchen to fix a fruit salad
to go with the roast. She’d throw in a handful of cranberries, Eric’s favorite
fruit.
Samantha glanced
into the living room. Her cat perched on the windowsill, chattering with that
special feline intonation that clearly said, “there is a beastie on my lawn and
I want it gone.” Her darling hissed and pounded on the glass with her front
paws.
Samantha dashed
over and peered outside. Yep. In the yard, a magnificent doe posed prettily,
unfazed by the puny show of aggression. “For goodness sake, Bel, it’s just a
friendly, neighborhood deer. Calm down.”
Oh my. Eric was
bringing the dachshunds over tonight and they always did as they were told. Her
territorial kitty better be on her best behavior.
****
Eric hurried down the path toward
the woods, shouting for his dog. “Apollo. Stop!”
The bounding
deer rapidly disappeared in the distance, and the gleefully barking miniature
dachshund followed in hot pursuit. Eric didn’t have time for these shenanigans.
He was due at Samantha’s house for dinner, and he was already running late.
The merry deer
headed for the trees, traipsing through the wet spring snow as if prancing on a
sandy beach in the Bahamas. Before Bambi’s mom disappeared completely, the
female deer flipped her white tail at the excited dog, making a game of the
chase. The two sped down the path Eric had created with his snowshoes, taking
advantage of his man-made corridor in the trees.
“Apollo! Get
back here.”
His disobedient
dog paid no attention whatsoever as he scrambled, hopped, and skated across the
freshly fallen snow lying atop frosty ground.
Eric quickened
his pace. Tonight, he’d planned to bring the boys over to Sammie’s to introduce
them to Jezebel. Before stowing the wiener dogs in the car, he’d let them out
for a quick pee break. His attention had wandered as he’d allowed himself a
moment of reverie … Sammie had such soft, silky hair … That was when Apollo had
spotted the deer.
Eric glanced
over his shoulder. His more obedient dog, Zeus, waited on the front porch.
Hopefully, the little guy would still be there when this ill-timed adventure
was over.
Excited yips
echoed through the crisp air. Dang it! His dog was headed for the frozen creek.
Eric’s best boots broke through the crusty top of the snow, the resulting
crunch ringing in his ears as he tramped down the trail. Apollo had to be
tiring by now, and that blasted deer had to be long gone. But then again, his
pup was the stubborn type.
When he’d trudged
through here yesterday morning, the sun was perched on the horizon, rays of
soft light peeking through the treetops. So peaceful, so serene, so awe
inspiring. A good way to start his day. Now, through the trees up ahead, pink
wooly clouds puffed across a spectacular sunset and glimpses of waning light
glinted off the snow-covered creek. Surely his foolish dog would stop when he
reached the debris-strewn banks of the solidified water.
Eric rounded the
corner in time to see the deer hurtling up the bank on the opposite side of the
creek. The waters of Moose Creek were normally deep and fast, the wide expanse
river-sized at this point in its journey south. The creek had been frozen over
for a couple months, though the big deep freeze in northern Maine had been late
this year. On his daily walks, he’d thought he’d heard water running near the
beaver dam upstream. Was the ice safe? The deer had made it across handily, and
if she could do it, so could a ten-pound canine. Right?
A moot point, since
his dog was not going to get the chance if he had anything to say about it.
A short distance
away, Apollo picked his way between the rocks on the shore, each step taking
him closer to danger, his gaze on the prize fifty feet away, across the frozen
expanse. Mrs. Deer stopped at the top of the hill, seemingly just as fascinated
with the sight of the yappy dachshund.
The scrappy dog
was shaking, whether from excitement or cold, Eric couldn’t tell. He headed
down the slope toward his miniature canine. “Come here, boy.”
Apollo tossed
him a cursory glance and then ogled the deer, the joy of the chase shining in
his doggie eyes.
Eric sidled a
few steps forward and to the side, moving slowly and carefully so as not to
send the dog running in the wrong direction. He was so close he could almost
reach out and grab the dog’s collar.
Whew. Apollo
yipped one last time and back-peddled toward Eric’s waiting fingers. At last.
And then the
deer at the crest of the hill pawed at the crunchy snow. Her mate joined her, a
splendid twelve-point buck with an impressive rack, shaking his head, twin
plumes of steam streaming from his nostrils. The canine couldn’t help himself.
He launched onto the frozen expanse, tiny legs propelling him like a windmill
in a gale. A few feet out, the dog lost his footing on the slippery
snow-covered ice. Landing on his stomach, legs all akimbo, the brownish-red
missile rocketed straight for a thin spot in the ice on the other side of the
stream.
With only a
split second of indecision, Eric flung himself off the bank, half-skating on
the ice, the breeze stinging his ears as he zipped forward. If he had any hope
of catching that bundle of fur, he was going to have to slide. If a full-grown
deer could make it across…
The ice creaked,
but it held fast. Thankfully, he was gaining on the dog. Halfway across the
river, he caught up to Apollo and grabbed his collar with his right hand. They
kept sliding. They were going to make it.
Crack! The ice on the
other side of the stream gave way and he plunged into the frigid water, his
breath whooshing from his lungs. The animal slithered from his grasp as Eric
fought to keep his head above water.
Apollo’s soft
brown eyes grew impossibly large as he bobbed to the surface a few feet away.
Before Eric’s frightened dog could be carried away by the loosed current, he
managed to grab onto the leather collar, hauling the animal to his upper body.
Water swirled
around them. He kicked his legs to bring them to shore, grateful he only had to
push against the current a few more feet before he was able to stand. His
sodden cold-weather clothes weighed him down, but he stumbled through the
cripplingly cold water, laboring each step of the way, his boots as heavy as if
he had a brick strapped to each foot.
The poor dog
whimpered and Eric clutched him closer as he stumbled onto land. “It’s okay,
boy. We’re safe now.”
His gaze traveled
up the hill. An entire herd of deer gaped at him. “Lotta help you guys were.”
He crashed down
on a log and surveyed his soaking body, chest heaving. No doubt about it, he
was in a pickle.
His chin rose
and he glanced at the western sky. Precious little light left. He would have to
hurry if he was going to be able to see to make it home. Without thinking, he
reached into his coat pocket for his phone. Not there. Oh right. When he’d
stopped by home to pick up the dogs, he’d left his phone charging in his Land
Rover. Work supplied the latest and greatest shockproof, waterproof phone, but he
doubted a dunk in the river would improve the already spotty reception.
But still … no
phone.
He backtracked
in his mind and assessed his situation. He was soaked through, as was a
shivering Apollo. Now he understood how those poor people on the Titanic felt
in the freezing cold water, and he’d only been in the drink for a very few
minutes.
Eric shivered,
held up the slick dog, and stared him in the face, nose to nose. Apollo
squeaked out a weak yip, blinked, and trembled pitifully. “Ah, buddy, I’m so
sorry you’re cold. I’m cold too.”
Boy howdy, it
was wicked nippy out here.
Eric unzipped
his coat, lifted the wool sweater, flannel shirt, and cotton undershirt
plastered to his body, and shoved his popsicle of a dog underneath. He quaked
at the touch of the furry ice pellet, zipped up quickly, and crossed his arms
to hold in the heat. Apollo quivered against his skin, but after a few moments stilled.
Now Eric remembered yet another reason why he loved dogs. They were warmer than
humans and a pleasant glow started to radiate through his numb torso.
Now if he could
only do something about his feet. They already felt like blocks of ice.
Better get moving. But how am I going to cross the
creek?
He wasn’t going
back the way he’d come. Hmm. There was a proper bridge down river, but that was
miles away. By the time he was anywhere close, it would be darker than the
inside of a pocket since there was hardly any moon tonight. Trudging through
the woods in the dark didn’t scare him. It just wasn’t wise. One tended to bump
into trees.
Been there, done
that when he’d taken Sammie on a snipe hunt once when they were teenagers. He
smirked at the memory. Somehow, he’d convinced Sammie to come out with him in
the middle of the night to catch the silly things, but he’d collided with more
trees than she had in search of the feathered fowl. Or maybe she’d known that
banging on gongs and waving torches to disorient the birds wasn’t the best way
to catch one of the wily creatures. Maybe she’d been the one putting him on.
He’d never really known for sure.
Sammie’s wry,
subtle sense of humor always made him smile.
A shudder
wracked his body. Hypothermia was a real concern, and being a forest ranger for
Aroostook County, he knew the dangers. The extremely cold water had been a
massive shock to his system. He tried to slow his fast, deep breathing. He was
already headed toward loopy. Snipe hunt. Ha. He pulled his partially frozen
flap-eared cap down over his ears and wrapped his arms around his body. Had to
keep that core temperature up.
God? Got any good ideas?
He’d head up the
creek and hope for some way across. A light-headed laugh bubbled in his throat.
He was up the creek anyway.
Settling Apollo a bit
to the right so that cold nose didn’t press into his ribs, Eric thanked the
good Lord he didn’t have a St. Bernard to carry. He stamped his feet to get the
circulation started again and headed along the creek toward the last of the
fading sunlight.
My review:
Moosed Opportunities is one of those rare stories that grabs you and ensnares you in it's pages, refusing to let you go. We catch up with Rev Samantha and moose wrestler Eric in the months after their engagement. Will the course of true love run smooth? Not if certain people have their way. Am eagarly waiting the next book to find out what happens next.
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