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Constance Jennings was about the best-looking woman the Wyoming Territory had ever seen.
The contrast between her coal-black hair and summer-sky-blue eyes could make a man stop dead in his tracks. Ellis himself, who’d never been overly affected by a woman’s looks, had been half afraid to take a second gander at her.
She’d barely uttered a word, but her stance and the way she walked gave the impression she was no ordinary gal. Nope. Miss Constance Jennings had been born and bred a lady. If whoever did take her on didn’t do a bit of researching they might find themselves in a whole mess of trouble …
AUTHOR NOTE
I remember the morning I awoke with the beginning scene of UNCLAIMED BRIDE in my mind. It was just an image of a young woman stepping off a stage, cold and nervous, and I couldn’t wait to learn more. I created an outline, and over the following days filled in a few blanks, but it wasn’t until I sat down and started Chapter One that the characters fully planted themselves in my head. As they took over I couldn’t seem to type fast enough.
I have to admit when Ellis brought all those bananas home to Constance I chuckled aloud. I had to call my mother during the bread-making scene, since she still bakes bread regularly—from scratch, using a well-memorised recipe. I also asked for her ‘from memory’ pancakes, and would like to share that one with you. They are so light and fluffy you’ll never want to buy mix again.
Mom’s pancakes: Sift together ¾ cup flour, 1¾ teaspoons baking powder, ½ teaspoon salt and 1½ teaspoons sugar. Mix in ½ cup milk, 1 egg, 2 tablespoons melted butter and ½ teaspoon vanilla. Spoon onto a hot griddle and flip when the bubbles cover the top. This makes about 10 pancakes and can be doubled or tripled as needed.
I hope you enjoy getting to know Constance and Ellis, and if you find yourself wondering about Angel you can read her story in the Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! line—HER MIDNIGHT COWBOY.
With heartfelt blessings.
About the Author
LAURI ROBINSON’s chosen genre to write is Western historical. When asked why, she says, ‘Because I know I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to grow up and marry Little Joe Cartwright.’
With a degree in early childhood education, Lauri has spent decades working in the non-profit field and claims once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one she took the challenge, and has loved every minute of the journey.
Lauri lives in rural Minnesota, where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren. She works part-time, volunteers for several organisations, and is a diehard Elvis and NASCAR fan. Her favourite getaway location is the woods of northern Minnesota, on the land homesteaded by her great-grandfather.
A previous title from Lauri Robinson:
HIS CHRISTMAS WISH
(part of All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas)
Also available in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:
WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE RANGER
HER MIDNIGHT COWBOY
NIGHTS WITH THE OUTLAW
DISOBEYING THE MARSHAL
TESTING THE LAWMAN’S HONOUR
THE SHERIFF’S LAST GAMBLE
Unclaimed Bride
Lauri Robinson
MILLS & BOON
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To my mother, Mary Jane Johnson.
It would be impossible for me to list all the things that made her so remarkable, or how deeply she is missed. While I was writing this book, she was still with us, and I consulted her more than once for a recipe. She ‘created’ many original dishes over the years, and tweaked others that will forever be passed along from generation to generation in our family. The day she passed away, and we were all gathered at her house, my four-year-old granddaughter said, ‘Jesus must be happy. He now gets Grandma Mary’s coleslaw.’
Love you, Mom.
Miss you.
Chapter One
Wyoming Territory November, 1877
The bitter wind that whipped the leather curtains covering the stage windows and snuck beneath the buffalo robe now piled on the hard seat could easily have stolen her breath away, but Constance Jennings’s first glimpse of her destination already had her lungs locked tight. Pinning her quivering bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced over her shoulder, half hoping the other passenger—an aging pastor who’d conversed pleasantly during the last leg of her journey—would indicate this wasn’t their stop after all.
No such luck. Reverend Stillman smiled kindly as he waved a hand for her to climb down the steps.
The trip had been long and cold, and days of sitting left her legs stiff and her knees popping. As her boots hit the dirt street, tremors seized her toes, and then traveled, snaking all the way up to her scalp until every hair follicle tingled.
Had she completely lost her senses back in New York?
A
