Free Montana (Modern Mail Order Bride Book 2) by Olivia Gaines

and one bare wall with the exception of a corkboard for planning.  On it were several drawings of cabins and a conference room center.
    “Is that a lodge?”  she asked him.
    “Yep.  My vision for this place is to sell off all the cattle with the exception of maybe two dozen or so and turn this into a writer’s haven,” he said to her.  His cheeks had pinked up when he started to speak. Pecola took a seat in the writer’s chair as he spoke.
    “These books mostly belonged to my Ma.  In the long winters, she would read to my brother Chad and me every night before bed.  I loved the stories and dreamed of being a writer myself, but I ended up teaching and never getting that novel finished,” he confessed.
    “How far along are you with your story?”
    “I am only 40,000 words in and man, it is a snoozer.  I am heavy in all of this pretty prose that says nothing.  I need to scrap it and start over,” he told her.
    “Maybe a fresh set of eyes can help you flush it out,” she told him.  “Tell me about this writer’s retreat.”
    Thick calloused fingers ran through the thick black hair. “You actually tapped the nail on the head with the cabins, the generators and all, but I never thought about charging $5,000 a pop!”
    “For a whole month?  And to have meals delivered to your door twice a day while you write? No television, no internet, just a butt in a chair and writing.  The cabins can be simple like a nun’s cell, nothing fancy.  A desk, a chair, and corkboard or chalkboard wall for plotting. I would pay it to get away and get my novel complete,” she told him.
    “I was thinking something different.  Maybe morning yoga in the lodge for any who are interested...” he started to say.
    “You do yoga?”
    He crinkled his brows, “Do I look like I do yoga?  But those writer types would love it.  Maybe a smoothie bar in the lodge or a continental breakfast.  Group dinners and afternoon games or roleplaying for character development.”
    “I love it.  Instead of having dinner delivered to the cabins, each cabin has a golf cart and they must come to the lodge for evening meals to close out the writing day with wine and socializing if they want it,” she told him.  Suddenly excited, she had moved closer to him.
    “We have to have the internet in the lodge and reference books, like a small library or something,” he told her.
    “But no Wi-Fi access on the ranch.  They have to come to the lodge to use the internet.  The cabins are for writing only,” she said.  “William, I think this could work. Lots of details and planning to do, but I think it will work.”
    He touched a lock of her hair. Rolling it in his fingers, he asked, “You know what else works, Honey?”
    She felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.  “You calling me William.  Ma named me after Shakespeare.  I always hated the name, but the way you say it makes me feel...I don’t know...bigger.”
    Something else was getting bigger as he talked to her.  She changed the subject. “Hey, are those books by Montana Hart?”
    The entire collection of her library was on his shelf.  “Actually, those belong to me,” he said blushing.  “When I signed up with the mail order bride agency, I ordered all of her books you know...to get an idea what women were reading about mail order brides.”
    Her curiosity was piqued, “What did you think of her books?”
    “Honestly?”
    “Yes, honestly.”
    “I think that woman has never been out west a day in her life and she doesn’t know a damned thing about men, but the writing is good.”
    It was her turn to stand in the middle of the floor and look dumbfounded.  She picked up a copy of Westerly Ho! She also held up one finger as she went into the bedroom to retrieve her purse.  She returned with a set of fake eyelashes, a tube of lip gloss and her cell phone.  Using her phone she applied the fake lashes and lip gloss.  Billy Joe watched her, saying nothing.  Next, she