The cowboy and the baby When Rafferty Evans goes out in the pouring November rain to help a lost tourist find his way off his land, the rancher doesn't expect to return with an expectant mom. Jacey Lambert isn't just pregnant—she's about to give birth. Five hungry cowboys looking for a home-cooked meal aren't what Jacey imagined when she set out for the Texas Hill Country. Neither is having her baby delivered by Rafferty, a handsome widower who offered her shelter from the storm. With an alluring cook in the kitchen and an irresistible infant in the bunkhouse, it's beginning to feel more like Christmas at the ranch. But mother and daughter have to move on eventually, and when—if—they do, Rafferty knows his fragile heart will break all over again. Unless Rafferty can convince Jacey there's only one thing her new family is lacking—him!

AND BABY MAKES THREE? Veterinarian Coco Grant is used to animals being left on her doorstep. The last thing she expects to find there is an abandoned baby girl. As a temporary mommy, Coco can’t resist loving her sweet little charge. But there’s also Coco’s growing attraction to the town’s handsome, if infuriatingly by-the-book, sheriff. To help with the baby, Sheriff Jet Wilson is practically living with Coco—and the town gossips are in seventh heaven! It’s only when rumors start circulating about Lily’s real father that Jet realizes that there’s a lot more at stake than setting a few tongues wagging. Because not only is the lawman falling for the baby…he’s falling for Coco even harder.

Brought Together by a Baby Bounty hunter Thomas Beaufort has no problem handling outlaws, but when he's left with a criminal's baby to care for, he's in over his head. And the only person he can think of to ask for help is Esther Jensen, the woman whose heart he broke when he left town. But can he convince her to put aside the past until he tracks down the baby's outlaw father? Esther is ready to run Thomas off her Texas ranch—until she spies the abandoned newborn in his arms. Soon, working together to care for the precious babe stirs old hopes of a family. With trouble heading to their door, they could overcome it together—if she'll entrust her wary heart to this sweet, second-chance family…

"The fact of being a citizen of the United States of America offers the opportunity--not the guarantee, but the opportunity--to live an extraordinary life," Les Joslin writes in the introduction to Life & Duty, an autobiography in which he proves his thesis as the relives the first seventy years of his American adventure. He shares these years in twenty chapters that comprise this three-part volume. Part I covers his family heritage and early years from 1943 to 1967, Part II his U.S. Navy career from 1967 to 1988, and Part III his life in Oregon from 1988. from Part I, Chapter 5, Summer 1965 on the Toiyabe National Forest... That wasn't the first time I'd dealt with an armed citizen, and it wouldn't be the last. Some of the challenges of my fire prevention job had nothing to do with wildfire prevention but everything to do with the fact I was sometimes the only public servant around to handle a situation. It had to do with that sometimes gray area between official duty and moral obligation. the previous summer, on my way to Twin Lakes, I detoured to check the dump I'd burned a few days before. Suddenly, I heard shots, just as the Lone Ranger and Tonto did in the opening scene of almost every episode, and what I saw as I neared the dump scared me. A big, beefy, fortyish man standing next to a late-model Cadillac sedan was firing a high-powerd rifle.... He'd heard me coming, and turned as I stopped the patrol truck. He didn't look particularly threatening. But there were serious unknowns. I didn't know him. I didn't know what he might shoot at. I didn't know he wouldn't shoot at me. from Part II, Chapter 10, November 1979 aboard USS Kitty Hawk... on November 28, I got up, showered and shaved, put on clean khakis as usual, and started toward the wardroom for breakfast. the usual scent of salt and jet fuel was in the air, and I had a lot on my mind. I descended two ladders to the hangar bay, only to be brought up short by bumping my head on a helicopter that wasn't supposed to be there. A quick look around revealed seven more RH-53D Sea Stallion helicopters that their HM-16 markings told me belonged to Helicopter Mine Countermeasures Squadron Sixteen, not part of the ship's air wing. So that's why the swing south to Diego Garcia! They'd been flown there, probably in C-5As, and had flown aboard last night. Had I actually slept through flight quarters? I forgot about breakfast, climbed the ladders back to the 02 level, and knocked on the door of the flag N-2's office. "This isn't going to work," I said as he opened the door. "We can't fly those helicopters into a city of five million hostiles and rescue fifty hostages." "They don't want to hear that," he replied, and closed the door. from Part III, Chapter 15, Summer 1992 on the Deschutes National Forest As I walked toward the fire, I began to think. Am I doing the right thing? After all, I'm just a contract wilderness information specialist, not part of the fire organization. I hadn't been to the Deschutes National Forest's fire school. I didn't have fire clothing. I didn't have a fire shelter. Except for a canteen, I didn't have any water. and I'd turned in my last red card--the fire qualification card that rated me as a crew boss--in 1966 when I'd left the Toiyabe National Forest to go on active duty in the Navy. That was twenty-six years ago! Should I be doing this? Sure, I answered my own question. I'd started out in the "old Forest Service" where everybody did everything. I'd done this many times before, in the days before fire shirts and Nomex britches and fire shelters. I'd had five fire seasons on the Toiyabe, been on a couple big fires. ... I knew this business. I knew how to keep out of trouble. About the time I resolved that little issue, I was at the fire....

FROM CEO…TO DADDY? Texas tycoon Jason Rayburn had been raised to take charge. To make decisions. To avoid emotion. So when he's forced to return to Brighton Valley to inventory his grandmother's small-town ranch for sale, the executive delegates the work to his new hire, local waitress Juliana Bailey. Jason never mixes business with pleasure, but even he can't ignore his attraction to the redheaded beauty—in spite of the secret she's clearly hiding… For Juliana, the job at the Leaning R was too good to be true, offering her a place to lie low until she could confess her pregnancy to her family—and avoid local scandal. But she hadn't counted on the searing sparks flying with the corporate cowboy! Now, the expectant assistant knows the billionaire boss is no family man. But she'll fight for the right to show him he's got daddy potential!

It's hard to say, exactly, what's meant by the "modern world," but Henry Buckberry never really hooked into it. Born before the First World War and the oldest boy in a family of thirteen kids, he left the open, rolling, potholed prairie of North Dakota in 1921 for the dark, dense, dangerous woods of northern Wisconsin, where he learned to fish, trap, hunt, lumberjack, and farm. Although he lived into the twenty-first century (the second volume of these stories, A Windfall Homestead, will inch us closer to the information super-highway), it could be said that Henry played hooky from the twentieth. With a few allowances for a little new technology, like the Model T, Henry's life represents the end phase of a rural folk culture that has its roots in the Neolithic. Through Henry's stories it's possible to see a long way into the past and then to turn the telescope around in order to put the present under an improvised microscope. Henry didn't have an easy life, but he had a vivid life, a life amazingly free of boredom, aimlessness, or distraction, and his stories convey that vividness from beginning to end. Henry's son Charles Darwin Buckberry--also known as C.D. or Seedy Buckberry--interviewed Henry and arranged the stories in some sort of more or less working order. (Seedy insists he put those stories down with complete fidelity, although he refuses to take a lie-detector test or submit to a Minnesota Multi-Phasic Personality Inventory analysis.) Henry's life, as conveyed here, is also a way to measure the intellectual bulimia (or is it the intellectual anorexia?) of present-day empire consumerism. Here is life before Wal-Mart. Here is life that lives in nature with intense and even fierce physicality. Here is life that sings.