Cowboy’s Rules: Brides of Juniper Junction, Book Three
Brides of Juniper Junction, Book Three
Copyright © 2020 Cowboy’s Rules by Celeste Jones
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published in the United States of America
Editing by Helen Shade
Cover by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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About this book
Other books in the Brides of Juniper Junction series
About Celeste Jones
About this book
Married to a stranger moments after they meet.
Things aren't always as they seem and never is that more true than when a mysterious mail order bride arrives in Juniper Junction.
From the moment she steps off the train in Juniper Junction, nothing goes right for Elizabeth. When she's injured before she even meets her groom, her hopes for a memorable wedding day, and night, are crushed.
But, that's the least of Lizzie's troubles. As she grows to love her handsome and dominant cowboy husband, she can't help but wonder what other bad luck may befall her...especially if Matt finds out what she's done.
Secrets, spankings, sex and smokin' hot men in the old west.
The home of Pennhurst Wentworth Pendleton
St. Louis, MO
"Sit up straight, Elizabeth. What is the point of buying you expensive clothes if you do not present yourself in the most attractive manner?" Pennhurst Wentworth Pendleton glared at his only child as he usually did, with a contempt filled gaze. Originally his reaction to her had mostly been indifference or disappointment that she was not the much hoped for male heir that every man apparently wanted more than even a dozen daughters.
But, as Elizabeth had matured and become more independent of thought, her father's preferred attitude toward her became disdain. Usually backed up with pursed lips and a look on his face as though he constantly smelled something unpleasant. Perhaps it was himself.
Elizabeth supposed she ought not to feel too badly about it. Pennhurst Wentworth Pendleton—Penn to his cronies. He had no friends—looked upon the entire world with a sneering scorn. It was not as though she had been singled out for his particular brand of toxic sputum, he lavished upon all with little regard for class, gender or age. He was an equal opportunity scorner.
Unfortunately for Elizabeth, as the only other non-servant member of the household, she simply had the dire misfortune of extended exposure combined with nowhere else to turn.
She was—despite a long line of revered ancestors, education of the first order and creamy flawless hands which were the envy of every woman she encountered—miserable. Worse than that, she felt hopeless.
It was not as though she could pack her things and live elsewhere. It simply wasn't done. Besides, her father's reach extended far and wide in St. Louis and beyond. Far beyond. Plus, she had no money of her own. Ironic, considering that the dress she wore cost more than the salaries of all their hired help for a month, but not a cent did she have of her very own.
Her father made sure of that.
She was worth a fortune, but could not buy a crust of bread.
She was trapped in a gilded cage.
Sometimes, when the melancholy was too much, she'd sit in her room and gaze out the window at the people walking by on the street. Inevitably they would stop and stare up at the expanse of the Pendleton family home, their mouths agape at the sheer size and ostentatiousness of it. In their eyes, she saw envy.
If they could see hers, they'd realize she envied them. Their freedom to walk about as they pleased in the fresh air, to laugh and chat with friends, to smile and enjoy themselves without someone demanding to be told their thoughts and what they were up to, since no one could simply be happy without being up to something. And it was never something good that he assumed she was up to.
It was in the face of all that, which Elizabeth found herself waiting in the massive drawing room of her home, perched upon an armless chair, the better to show off her shape without obstruction, as her father continued to lecture.
"You will be on your best behavior tonight. None of your blather about books or history, do you understand me? You will smile and be charming. That's what I paid those hags at that school to teach you, isn't it? So make sure I get my money's worth."
"Yes," she replied. When her father was in these moods, which was often, the best thing to do was go along and say as little as possible. Her tongue had a permanent groove in it from being bitten as she held back all the things she wished to say to the man who had sired her.
"Neville Pettit has been raising the prices on the barrels we need to transport our product. But I have a way to prevent that from continuing." An evil smile turned up the corners of his mouth and Elizabeth's stomach roiled with anxiety.
"Family would never treat each other that way, now would they?" The expression on her father's face was positively maniacal.
"Family?" She didn't want to hear the answer but she couldn't keep herself from asking.
"Why yes." He practically vibrated with glee at his