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Overview
Natalia Puccini has spent her entire life playing by her overbearing but well-intentioned Italian family's rules...except the one time she took a chance on a bad boy and fell hard. She's worked to get her life back on track so when Aiden McCann comes sauntering back into town with his heart-stopping smile, Natalia vows not to fall for him again. There's no way she'll let him mess with her perfectly planned life...and there's no way she'll let him near her heart again...
Now reformed and a self-made success, Aiden is tormented by regrets and secrets. He left Red River years ago filled with anger and resentment and a promise to never come back. But when his ill father needs help, Aiden knows it's time to face the mess he left behind, and face the one woman he never got over. It doesn't matter how beautiful or intriguing she is, though, because he'll never be able to give her what she needs. As soon as his father is healthy, Aiden is leaving Red River...for good.
Each book in the Red River series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Series Order:
Book #1 A Risk Worth Taking
Book #2 The Best Man's Baby
Book #3 The Doctor's Fake Fiancee
Book #4 The Rebel's Return
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781633757332 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Entangled Publishing, LLC |
| Publication date: | 08/22/2016 |
| Series: | Red River , #4 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 170 |
| Sales rank: | 261,337 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Victoria James is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance.
Victoria always knew she wanted to be a writer and in grade five, she penned her first story, bound it (with staples and a cardboard cover) and did all the illustrations herself. Luckily, this book will never see the light of day again.
In high school she fell in love with historical romance and then contemporary romance. After graduating University with an English Literature degree, Victoria pursued a degree in Interior Design and then opened her own business. After her first child, Victoria knew it was time to fulfill her dream of writing romantic fiction.
Victoria is a hopeless romantic who is living her dream, penning happily-ever-after's for her characters in between managing kids and the family business. Writing on a laptop in the middle of the country in a rambling old Victorian house would be ideal, but she's quite content living in suburbia with her husband, their two young children, and very bad cat.
Read an Excerpt
The Rebel's Return
A Red River Novel
By Victoria James, Alethea Spiridon
Entangled Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2016 Victoria JamesAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63375-733-2
CHAPTER 1
Natalia Angelica Puccini prayed for a miracle.
She knew it would take nothing short of a miracle to stop her cousin, Francesca Puccini, from proceeding with what would inevitably turn into a train wreck of a speech. She also knew that she would be dragged under the proverbial train because her cousin never missed an opportunity to humiliate her.
Natalia held her breath and clutched the sides of her gold Chiavari chair as her cousin lifted her glass of champagne — which was actually her fifth refill — and waved it in Natalia's direction.
Oh God, no.
She braced herself by plastering a fake smile on her face, not letting the roomful of family and friends know just how much this bothered her.
"I would like to thank all of you for attending my bridal shower today. You mean the world to me and without youz guyziz I would not be the person I am today." Natalia tried her hardest not to let her smile waver. It should not fill her with perverse pleasure that her cousin's abominable grammar always made an appearance when she'd had a few too many, but she did make a mental note to remember this so she could have a laugh in private later on. "And now a toast to my bridesmaids and, in particular, my maid of honor and dear, dear first cousin, Natalia."
Natalia dug her nails into the underside of the chair and held her breath.
"Natalia has been with me through thick and thin. We've grown into fabulous women together, and there isn't anyone else I'd rather have by my side on my wedding day. She is a selfless and devoted cousin, because even though it must pain her greatly to be a maid of honor for the third time, and never a bride, she graciously accepted my request. So here's to Natalia, I still believe that love is in your future. Here, here!"
Natalia lifted her glass and downed it, hoping it would drown the choice words she had for the cousin who never failed to miss an opportunity to belittle her. It was fine. All fine. She hadn't announced anything that this entire room didn't already know — boring, dependable, rule-following Natalia was destined to grow old alone, despite being loved by her giant, overbearing, Italian-Canadian family.
As she'd done many times in the years since her cousin and the soon-to-be groom had betrayed Natalia, she wondered what had happened to their relationship. Francesca had been Natalia's favorite cousin. They'd grown up together and had been very close.
Once everyone's attention turned to the lasagna course that was being served, Natalia made eye contact with her mother. Her mother stood, tilted her head to the right, and walked toward the washroom. Natalia quickly followed suit. The ladies' room was empty of all but her mother when Natalia burst through a moment later.
"Can you believe her?"
"She's a silly girl." The sneer that accompanied the word "silly" was something only her mother was capable of doing. Since she didn't swear, her vocabulary was somewhat limited. But she made her point.
"She said it on purpose," Natalia whispered, joining her in front of the large mirrors.
Her mother's dark eyes narrowed. "I know. Well, she only made a fool of herself. Honestly, your father's side of the family is shameless."
Natalia chose to ignore what could get them off the main topic and sidetracked into the lifetime debate of whose side of the family was saner. "I wish I had never accepted."
"Family is family," her mother said, the same response Natalia had heard her entire life. It was beginning to irk her in a way that was making it increasingly difficult to agree and shrug off.
"I'm getting sick of that line. What does that mean anyway? Family is family? So just because someone shares the same DNA they can crap all over you?"
Her mother pursed her lips. "Language. Don't get yourself all worked up. Be content knowing that the problem lies with her, and not you. Now, let's go before people wonder what's happened to us."
Natalia crossed her arms. "Of course. We wouldn't want people to talk."
Her mother sighed, stopping at the door. "I'm going out. Take a few minutes to compose yourself, dear."
Natalia slowly turned to look at herself in the mirror. What was wrong with her? She didn't have any horrific disfigurements that might make the dating scene more challenging. She ran her own business. She was smart. She thought she was funny. She had friends. She even had a lifelong BFF. But the awful, pathetic truth was that she hadn't been in love in ten years. Not since Aiden McCann had made her believe that bad boys could be so, so good ... until he'd then broken her heart.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. She eyed herself in the mirror. Get it together, Nat. Focus on your goals. You don't need a man to be happy. In fact, men are the very cause of all of your unhappiness. Move forward with your business plans and bakery delivery service.
She gave her reflection a nod. As soon as this shower was over, she had five deliveries to make. See? She had way more things to focus on than men and family.
Yes, that was the plan. No men. Just work.
No dwelling on Aiden McCann. Of course, it didn't help that one of the deliveries she had to make was to poor old Mr. McCann, Aiden's father. But still, there was no point dwelling on Aiden. He had left Red River ten years ago with no intention of ever coming home.
* * *
Coming home was as crappy as he'd imagined it would be.
Aiden McCann pulled his helmet off his head, ran his hand through his hair, and then sat still on his Harley as he stared at his childhood home. It hadn't changed much, even after all these years.
It hadn't always been a dump. Sure, it had been on the wrong side of the tracks in Red River, but when his mother had been alive there had been flowers, the lawn had been immaculate, and his older brother, Dylan, told him there had even been hanging baskets in the summer. He could confirm all that in the family pictures, but he didn't remember. He didn't remember flowers, or a doting father, or his mother. To Aiden, his mother had been nothing but a dream; to his brother and his father, she had been everything.
He shoved both hands in his hair, feeling the dampness, trying to shake some of it off. A cold drizzle had started halfway through the ride down from Toronto. He probably shouldn't have taken his bike out this time of year, but October's weather could go either way. And today it was perfectly parallel to his mood — stinking miserable, gray with a dampness that went right through your bones until you were chilled from head to toe. But he'd needed to feel the cold air, to feel the final hours of freedom before living under the same roof as his father for the next eight weeks.
His eyes narrowed, taking in the condition of the front yard. It was ratty looking. The fall leaves hadn't been raked, and the few flowerbeds hadn't been cleaned up and readied for the coming winter season. He and his brother paid for a gardener to maintain the property for their dad, so why wasn't it being done?
Enough stalling, he'd better get inside and face his dad. He grabbed the duffel bag clipped onto the back of his bike and swung it over his shoulder, unzipped his leather jacket, and walked up the steps to the small one-level house.
After a few minutes of freezing his ass off and not even a remote sign that the door would be answered, he gave a knock on the door and then walked in. The front entrance was dark, the tiles looking kind of muddy, and the rug worn and sad.
"Hey, Dad? It's me." He shrugged out of his jacket, dropped his bag, and took off his boots. There was still no answer. Obviously his father hadn't been waiting by the window for his youngest kid to come home. Not that he'd ever done that.
He walked toward the blaring sound of the television. The commentator announced the next hand was now being dealt. Yeah. Sounded like his dad was watching World Poker Tour again. Aiden stood in the doorway to the small family room, waiting for his father to notice him. Or acknowledge him. It didn't happen. "Is there something wrong with your hearing, too?"
Finally, his father looked up from the television, probably because there was a commercial. "Hi. Didn't think you'd be coming today."
Aiden studied his father. He looked like he'd lost a bit of weight. What was left of his gray hair was fluffy and stood on end. His usual T-shirt and blue pants hung off him. Guilt made him look away for a minute. He and Dylan should have come home sooner, but they hadn't had much of a relationship with their father since they'd left Red River ten years ago.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I told you at least five times in the last week that I was coming home today."
His dad grunted.
"We've got to meet with your oncologist and radiologist on Monday, remember?"
"I've got prostate cancer, not Alzheimer's."
That sounded more like him. Aiden would've cracked a smile if he didn't feel bad for his dad, or if they had a kind of jokey relationship. Their relationship was strained, the shots and digs laced with ancient resentment that would never disappear, never be resolved. "I'll be taking you to your appointments every day for the next seven weeks."
His father pointed the remote at the television, raising the volume. "Not necessary. I don't think I even need to be there."
"You're going. Dylan and I spent an hour on the phone with Evan last Tuesday. We've also got an appointment with him next week."
This time his father turned to scowl at him. "Manning? What does that punk know, anyway?"
He stifled his urge to swear. One of them needed to be the adult. "That punk is your doctor, and he's concerned about you."
"What about doctor-patient confidentiality?"
"He's an old friend." The Mannings were the oldest friends he and Dylan had. Evan was the youngest of three brothers and a talented doctor and former surgeon. Although he and Evan hadn't been that close growing up, they were on friendly terms. It was the middle brother, Jake, that had been Aiden's right-hand man when it came to getting in trouble. He and Jake had been inseparable, right up until Aiden's last days in Red River. All three Manning brothers had gone on to marry and have kids. He had no idea what that was like. He and Dylan enjoyed concentrating on work and leading uncomplicated bachelor lives in the city.
"Humph. Once a delinquent, always a delinquent. I don't know how he graduated from medical school."
"Evan wasn't a delinquent. You're thinking of Jake."
His father grunted. "Oh yeah, him. Just because that one married a minister's daughter doesn't make him a saint now. I remember all the trouble you boys got into. All those Mannings are trouble."
Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get this conversation back on track. "Dad, that was a long time ago."
"Still, he never should have called you. Come to think of it, Evan is pissed because I tried to pick up his wife."
Aiden felt sick. This was the kind of stuff that went on when he left town? His father needed a babysitter. "His wife is like twenty-something."
"She wasn't complaining."
Yeah, she probably thought he was ready to be admitted. "I can't even acknowledge that without wanting to puke."
"Evan is dramatic."
"I don't think a diagnosis of prostate cancer and whatever else is him being dramatic. Why the hell didn't you tell us?"
His dad gave another grunt and focused his eyes on the television again.
"Hello?"
He waved the remote around. "Stop being theatrical. It's not life or death."
He grabbed the remote out of his father's hand, turned off the television, and waited while his father swore at him. "Last time I checked, cancer was life or death."
"I feel fine. I look fine."
"Actually, you look like hell. So Monday morning, we're going to meet with the radiation oncologist and get the ball rolling. We talked about this on the phone already, Dad. You have to do this if you want to live. You'll be fine, but you need to have treatment."
"Well, you don't need to be here."
That was gratitude for you. "How are you going to drive an hour each way, every day?"
He shrugged. "I have no issues driving."
"What if you have side effects? At the very least you'll be tired."
"Go back to the city where you and your brother do whatever the hell you want. Don't waste your time here."
"We work, Dad."
"Right. How could I forget the super successful entrepreneur sons I raised."
He cringed at the sarcasm that dripped from his father's mouth. "It's fine. Dylan and I flipped a coin, and I'm here." It was the truth. No need to add that he was the loser, so he was the one that had to do this. Or the fact that despite the coin toss, he knew he'd have to be the one to do this because despite his own issues with their father, Dylan's were even worse. He got that. Dylan had been around long before him and had felt the aftermath of their mother's death much more deeply than he had.
"I hope you don't expect me to get on that death-trap motorcycle you drive," his dad said a minute later. That was more like it, selfless one moment and critical the next. At least he knew what to do with this version of his father.
"Of course not. We'll take your car." His father looked away again. He and his brother had bought their dad a BMW sedan last year, when he'd complained that his old clunker had finally died. He had, of course, yelled at them and told them it was unnecessary. He'd also never thanked them. But that wasn't really a surprise. "Also, Dylan and I were looking up diet and prostate cancer. On our way back from the hospital, we'll stop and buy you some real food. And we read that green tea is beneficial for prevention." He knew his father's diet consisted of fried everything from a local restaurant and anything that came from a bag.
"That's crap. Nothing wrong with John's Diner. And I wouldn't drink green tea if it were the last drink in town. Besides, I missed the boat on prevention, so what's the point?"
"Hello, Mr. McCann?"
Aiden's stomach dropped. That voice. Hell, he'd know that voice anywhere. Usually, he found that voice in his dreams. He knew, without turning around, who was walking through the house. Crap. He wasn't prepared to see her. Sure, he'd known they'd run into each other, but not now, half an hour after he'd arrived back in town.
Why was she here anyway? And why didn't his father look surprised by the fact that Natalia Puccini, his ex-girlfriend, was walking through his home as if it was something she did every day? He glanced over at his father and frowned.
"In here, sugar!"
Sugar? Aiden turned around to find a stunning brunette walking over to them. God, every single inch of him came alive. Natalia had always been striking, curvy and beautiful. Now the curves had turned into bombshell territory, and her facial features had become more delicate and refined. She was ... stunning. She was carrying a paper bag and wearing a smile that actually made him aware that he still had a heart. And other body parts.
He was speechless as old feelings and memories bombarded him, catapulting him back to a time in his life he would have done anything for a woman — not any woman, her.
The moment Natalia spotted him, everything inside him died, because the light left her eyes and the smile left her gorgeous face.
He cleared his throat. "Hi, Nat."
She lifted her chin, and the paper bag crinkled as she all but choked it. "It's Natalia."
This was not going well, but that was to be expected after how they'd left things. He'd trampled across her heart and then left town without looking back. "Right. Natalia. Hi, how are you?" He was going to have to be contrite and deal with the attitude that was being hurled at him in her voice, in those big, expressive brown eyes. He had to; because he was the one who'd screwed up. Badly.
"Aiden," she said. "What are you doing here?"
He glanced over at his father. "You didn't tell anyone I was coming home?"
His dad shrugged. "Didn't think you actually would."
He turned back to Natalia. "I'm here to help my dad during treatment."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Rebel's Return by Victoria James, Alethea Spiridon. Copyright © 2016 Victoria James. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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