Reviews/Awards:
 "Kentucky
Groom is a warm, emotionally moving contemporary
romance. . . . Filled with heartbreak and joy, diverse
and complex characters, plot twists, romance and two
vulnerable people looking for love, this story will keep
the reader captivated as the plot unfolds. I recommend
Kentucky Groom to anyone looking for a great
story." Reviewer
Dottie, RomanceJunkies.com
Excerpt:
Wildwood Stables
Near Prospect, Kentucky
Carrie ogled the hip pockets of Mary Wilder’s newest
employee. She fought the wry twist her mouth took, slightly
amused by her reaction to the young groom. Stepping away
from the open doorway, she hid herself behind the lower part
of the wooden stall and looked at him through the metal bars
of the upper part. She clutched the cool metal bars with
sweaty hands, not minding the dust and dirt on the bars.
Oddly, she felt a need to hold on to something strong—like
a lifeline.
Carrie remembered Jay. How could she forget that shock of
red hair? Or the way he set a horse—long-legged, poised,
like a knight in a medieval fantasy novel. He had attended
Mary’s summer riding camp one year when she was a senior
in high school. The barn girls gossiped and giggled about
him behind his back. Guys generally didn’t ride saddleseat,
a uniquely American style of riding that was developed in
the South. It was a girls’ sport. Like most of the
girls, she’d had a crush on this suntanned kid from
California. But she’d been too old for him even then.
Had he forgotten her?
“Mary says you’re from California.”
“Mm,” he murmured, concentrating on the hoof.
What else had Mary said about him? Jay was down on his luck,
and she was helping him out. What could have happened? Years
ago she assumed his parents were wealthy if they could afford
to send him to Kentucky for summer riding camp. If she recalled,
Jay had stayed and ridden in the World’s Grand Championship
that August.
Jay dropped the hoof and switched to the front one. “Your
daughter is a lot like my little sister,” he said.
“How old is she?”
“Eight.”
Yes, the hip pockets of his jeans had much to recommend
in them. She hadn’t been intrigued by male anatomy
in years, not since she’d married her husband who was
much older—and surely not since his death. Was she
attracted to Jay Preston? The question brought her up short.
Carrie swallowed hard.
“Jesse is ten,” she said to ease the sudden
strain she felt.
He stood up and turned to face the metal bars, his hazel
eyes glinting with appreciation. “You don’t look
old enough to have a ten year old daughter.”
Carrie’s heart gave an unwelcome jump at the compliment.
She felt her face grow hot. “I was a young bride. Jesse
was born when I was eighteen, just out of high school.”
Jay whistled through his teeth and turned back to his work,
picking up the horse’s far front hoof.
What was it about Jay that always captivated her? Maybe
it was his hair. Carrie had never seen hair quite its color—like
flames of copper. Maybe it was his intelligence and sense
of confidence that attracted her. Whatever had happened to
him was a mystery. He certainly seemed out of character as
a lowly stable groom.
Jay dropped the third hoof and went to the fourth. Carrie
watched his swift, quick strokes. When the work was done,
he stood up and came back toward her. She was glad for the
protection of the wooden part of the stall, for at least
he couldn’t see her trembling knees.
After unbuckling the cross-ties from the wall and removing
the horse’s halter, Jay came out of the stall to stand
beside her.
“I’m twenty-five myself.”
His gaze told her he wanted her to know that not much distance
separated them in age.
“Yes, I know.”
“You do?”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” There
was an awkward silence. The chains of the cross-ties clanked
in his hands. Carrie wished for the protection of the stall
that had separated them. “I used to be Carrie Fletcher.” She
glanced down, but felt his eyes on her every movement. “You
and I attended Mary’s summer camp. I was a senior in
high school.”
“Damn!” The light of recognition ignited in
his eyes. “You’re the girl with that champion
walk-trot horse! I always admired her and you.”
“Yes.” She felt the smile in her voice. “That
was me, but a long time ago.”
He picked up the grooming box. “Come on, I’ve
got more horses to tend to.”
Jay walked down the aisle, and she drew along side, matching
him stride for stride. Why did she feel like an awkward teenager—insecure
and eager to please? She hadn’t felt this way in years,
as if little lightning bolts charged throughout her whole
body.
“Are you divorced?” he asked.
“No, my husband died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. It hasn’t been pleasant for me or
for Jesse.”
They reached the tack room. He went in and put away the
equipment. Weak-kneed by her unexpected reaction to the man,
Carrie leaned against the door jamb. The thoughts of Tate’s
death and their subsequent financial struggle sobered her
for a moment, but she didn’t want to stop feeling young
and attractive. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she told herself
she would worry about money tomorrow.
Jay finished his task and turned to look at her. “Do
you come to the stable in the morning?”
“Only in the summer. I’m a teacher.”
He seemed to catalog the information. “What do you
teach?”
“Eighth grade English.”
He whistled. “I don’t envy you. It must be hard
work with all those teenage hormones going off at one time
in the classroom.”
“It can be challenging.”
“Now I remember you. You were good at everything you
did. I envied the hell out of you.” Jay’s eyes
twinkled. “Even today you are Wonder Woman in disguise.
A very beautiful, blond Wonder Woman.”
What a charmer. What a rogue. “I think you, sir, have
been affected by an occupational hazard.” She lowered
her lashes to hide her amusement.
“What might that be?” He stepped nearer.
“You have been shoveling too much horse manure,” Carrie
said with all sincerity.
Jay threw back his head and laughed.
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