They are the women of Primrose Creek, and their strength and passion is a match for the Nevada frontier they call home. Linda Lael Miller masterfully captures the hardships and dangers of a country swept by the winds of war -- and the daring and determination, the hopes and dreams of four unforgettable women -- in a thrilling new series.
Skye McQuarry's heart belongs to one man -- Primrose Creek's lumber baron, Jake Vigil. After a shattering heartbreak in his past, Jake vowed to never again take a chance on love -- until he came to know beautiful Skye. But their delicate bond faces the ultimate test when a business deal threatens to tear them apart -- and battle lines are drawn between two passionate hearts.
Skye is determined to stand her ground. Then a surprise from Jake's past unexpectedly comes to her -- a discovery that may be just the key to unlocking the true, deep, and trusting love that she knows lives deep within Jake Vigil.
Be sure to read all of Linda Lael Miller's splendid Primrose Creek novels!
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July 01, 2000
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Excerpt from Skye by Linda Lael Miller
She stood facing him, hands on her hips, elbows jutting, feet firmly planted, as though to sprout roots and become a part of the landscape, like the giant pine trees around them. Her brown eyes flashed beneath the limp brim of that silly leather hat of hers, and tendrils of dark hair, its considerable length clasped at her nape with a gewgaw of some sort, danced against her smooth cheeks. In that moment, for all that she stood barely taller than his collarbone, Skye McQuarry seemed every bit as intractable to Jake Vigil as the Sierras themselves.
The last time they'd met, months before at a dance in town, she'd been a mite more gracious. Now, in her unwelcoming presence, Jake, well over six feet and brawny after years of swinging axes and working one end of a cross-cut saw fourteen hours a day, felt strangely like a schoolboy, hauled up in front of the class for some misdeed. It made him furious; he, too, set his feet, and he leaned in until their noses were only inches apart. He would have backed off if he hadn't been desperate, and never gone near her again, but there it was. He was fresh out of choices, or soon would be.
"Now, you listen to me, Miss McQuarry," he rasped, putting just the slightest emphasis on McQuarry, since the name alone, to him at least, conveyed volumes about ornery females. "I made you a reasonable offer. If you're holding out for more just because of that little bit of gold you've been panning out of the creek, you're making a foolish mistake."