Unwrapping Her Perfect Match

Help me choose what story to share next on Wattpad!

Update (17 Aug 2015): And the winning story is...One Night with Her Bachelor! Thank you for all your wonderful comments!

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Dear Reader,

I've been so amazed by all the lovely comments readers have left on Unwrapping Her Perfect Match, and I can't wait to share another story with you. One of my publishers, the wonderful Tule Publishing, has given me permission to share one of the books in my Montana Born series. And guess what...I want readers to decide which one!

So far, I have two Montana Born Books: One Night with Her Bachelor and Two Nights with His Bride. I'm including the first chapter of each book here. Please read them and then leave a comment at the end with your vote, either #1 (One Night with Her Bachelor) or #2 (Two Nights with His Bride). I'll start posting the winning story on Monday August 17, 2015.

Thanks in advance for your help, and I hope you enjoy them both!

P.S. They're both available for sale. You can find links at http://katlatham.com/books

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One Night with Her Bachelor, Chapter One

Sometimes getting lucky had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with the right footwear and a willingness to get sweaty. Today, Molly Dekker was more than willing to get sweaty-and she had the right footwear.

She tossed her hiking boots into the extended cab of her pickup and shouted across the lawn. "Josh! Get your tush in gear! We're going to be late!"

Her ten-year-old son was a flash of movement as he sprinted out the front door and jumped off the porch. It was only three feet high, a distance he could easily land, but he chose to hit the ground in a roll and jump to his feet without pausing. She laid her arm across the truck's open window and tried not to let her eyes do the same roll his body had just done. "Just watching you makes me tired."

"I gotta know how to roll when the bull bucks me off. Otherwise I could break my neck."

"I know, and that's why I won't let you near a bull till you're at least fifty-seven. You still got plenty of years to practice before you ever get near an arena, cowpoke."

He skidded to a halt in front of her. "Fifty-seven! I might as well be dead by then."

"You won't be dead. You'll be happily married with two sweet babies and a safe job in an office. Ooh! I know! You could be an accountant," she teased.

"I don't know what that is, Mom, but I'm pretty sure I won't be one."

"You don't think so? It's someone who does math all day."

He gagged, jabbing his finger toward the back of his throat before miming throttling himself. Then, just in case she hadn't gotten the picture, he collapsed onto the driveway and his limbs twitched in a macabre death dance. Her face contorted as she watched his grotesque display. She knew he did it for a reaction, but she couldn't help giving it to him. When his twitches died down to tiny flinches, she tapped his leg with her toe. "The scouts'll leave without you if we don't get going."

He shot back to his feet, and a strange vision flitted through her mind-Josh, tall and muscular, rolling in the dirt of some arena as a crowd screamed and a bloodthirsty bull pawed the ground behind him. She shivered and it disappeared. Sometimes she wondered whether he'd gotten a single one of her genes, but then she looked at him and saw her father's shaggy brown hair and never-met-a-person-I-didn't-like smile and realized he was a Dekker through and through.