{"product_id":"the-christmas-room-isbn-9780399586323","title":"The Christmas Room","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe beloved author of the Mystic Creek series gifts readers with a novel of homespun holiday cheer, as two families discover the joy of hope and redemption....\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWidow Maddie McLendon has uprooted her life to move to Rustlers Gulch with her son and grandson. But as a brutal Montana winter looms on the horizon, contractors have yet to break ground on their new house, leaving them to live in a makeshift camp of trailers, tents, and sheds....\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSince his wife died six years ago, millionaire rancher Sam Conacher has been content to wallow in his grief alone while keeping a tight rein on his twenty-six-year-old daughter. But now the girl has gone and fallen in love with his foolish new neighbor’s no-good son....\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaddie and Sam will never see eye to eye on anything, until a near-tragedy gives them a true glimpse into each other’s souls. And as the first snowflakes begin to fall, they’ll discover that an open heart is the biggest gift of all....\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Christmas Room\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Catherine Anderson doesn’t shy away from characters who face life’s toughest challenges–but she also gifts readers with a romantic tale that celebrates the hope and resilience of the human spirit.”—#1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Susan Wiggs\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Catherine Anderson writes with great emotional depth and understanding of complex relationships and family dynamics. \u003ci\u003eThe Christmas Room\u003c\/i\u003e is yet another compelling example of that. Happy holiday reading!”—Sherryl Woods, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eLilac Lane\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Catherine Anderson weaves beautiful stories overflowing with emotion and heart. \u003ci\u003eThe Christmas Room\u003c\/i\u003e is an absolute keeper, destined to be read again and again.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The incredibly talented Anderson has created another tale with multidimensional characters so real they seem to pop off the pages as they cope with complicated issues and conflicts. As is the case with so many of her books, Anderson leaves the reader wishing the story would never end.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Catherine Anderson and the Mystic Creek Novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The minute you open an Anderson novel, you can immediately feel the vision of humanity and warmth that runs through all her books. No one does heartfelt romance better!”—\u003ci\u003eRT Book Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[Anderson] does know how to tug the heartstrings.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Heartwarming and heart-wrenching.”—Open Book Society\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sweet and inspirational.”—Smitten by Books\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A tender, feel-good read that's perfect for every romance lover.”—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eCatherine Anderson \u003c\/b\u003eis the author of more than thirty \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling and award-winning historical and contemporary romances, including \u003ci\u003eMulberry Moon\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew Leaf\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eSilver Thaw\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eWalking on Air\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eCheyenne Amber\u003c\/i\u003e, among others.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Warm August sunlight slanted across the dusty windshield of      Cameron McLendon's blue Ford pickup as he drove south on Highway      93. It was such a beautiful day in Montana's gorgeous Bitterroot      Valley that he rolled down the front windows to enjoy the      afternoon breeze, redolent with the scent of pine. He released a      deep breath and tried to toss aside his worries.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e West of the four-lane thoroughfare, the Bitterroot Mountains rose      with splendid majesty to the clear blue sky, their      glacier-chiseled canyons inviting the eye to delve deeper into the      Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. Cam, with a professional background      in both fish and game biology, knew a totally different world      existed in that remote area, a place so rugged and wild that some      people couldn't comprehend it. He kept a close eye on the traffic      as he took in the magnificent scenery with quick glances. Someday      soon he hoped to have the time to take his son on a hike into      those canyons.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His tight grip on the steering wheel relaxed. The tension eased      from his neck and shoulders. Then he noticed that a light dusting      of snow capped the mountain peaks. Only a little, he reassured      himself. Only a freak dusting. But it was still a warning that      those locals who were predicting an early winter might be right.      Damn. Isn't it just my luck? If winter strikes sooner than      anticipated, my mother will have difficulty navigating our camp.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Upset, tired, and hungry, Cam bypassed the turn that led to his      new hometown, Rustlers' Gulch, and drove farther south to a place      called the Cowboy Tree. A bar-and-eatery combo with rustic decor,      it offered only limited menu choices, but the food was tasty and      easy on the wallet. After parking in the long rectangular lot, Cam      checked his reflection in the rearview mirror to fingercomb his      hair. Tiny lines had appeared at the corners of his blue eyes. He      was only thirty-five, but it had been a stressful summer, and all      the worry had taken its toll.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As he pushed through the double doors of the establishment, he      felt the casual, welcoming atmosphere surround him. The walls had      been papered here and there with dollar bills autographed by      customers. Bistro-height tables, handmade from knotty pine and      rectangular in shape, flanked the front windows, while regular      tables out of the same wood peppered the inner section of the      dining room. A bank of poker machines cozied up to a jukebox at      one side. Lighted beer signs offset the darkness of aged wood      paneling. Three televisions, kept at a low volume, entertained      those interested in sports or a news channel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Though the establishment was busier than usual at this time of      day, Cam found an empty place near a window and swung up onto a      stool, allowing the hum of conversation behind him to become white      noise. A little girl with golden curls wandered over and said hi.      He guessed her to be about three, and she was adorable. Cam      returned the greeting and watched her toddle back to her parents'      table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At first it had surprised Cam to see minors in places that served      hard liquor. Now he took it in stride. Kids weren't allowed to sit      at the bar, but they were welcome to come in with adults to eat.      The state of Montana apparently believed it was up to parents to      decide if a place of business provided an appropriate environment      for their children.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Long ago, the Cowboy Tree had been constructed around a ponderosa      pine that had developed an impressive circumference over the      years, necessitating periodic enlargements of the hole in the roof      that accommodated the conifer's massive trunk. Back in his home      state of California, Cam had seen trees inside structures, but for      some reason they had never seemed so impressive. This pine and the      old building appeared to have sprung up from the earth together.      The framed hole in the ceiling allowed precipitation to seep in      and collect in the massive rock planter at the base. Staff and      patrons added water regularly to keep the roots well hydrated, and      Cam believed that water had also been plumbed in under the      building.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hi, Cam!\" Trish, an attractive bartender with curly,      shoulder-length red hair, flashed a bright smile. \"You snuck in on      me. Long day?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam laughed and then groaned. \"I showed a ranch north of here. Had      breakfast at five and not so much as a sip of water since. The      potential buyer wanted to walk the land. It's a      twelve-hundred-acre parcel. When I make my first sale, buying a      side-by-side will be at the top of my list I can tell you that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What's a side-by-side?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"A powerful ATV that seats five. They're built sort of like a golf      cart and are awesome for showing property. Not much will slow them      down.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ah. I've only ever heard them called mules.\" Trish chuckled. \"So      thirst and hunger drove you here. I can't imagine trying to walk      every inch of that much land. Sounds to me like you should carry a      cooler filled with sandwiches and drinks.\" She circled the bar to      serve him a tall glass of water. \"The chicken wings are on      special, fifty cents apiece, minimum order of five.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam thanked her for the drink. \"I'll take ten with the      apple-cherry glaze. That should hold me until I get supper on the      table tonight.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Your mom still on deadline?\" Trish asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, yeah.\" Cam's mother, Madeline McLendon, was a murder mystery      writer of some acclaim. \"She'll be too busy killing someone this      evening to help me cook. She's always there for cleanup, though.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trish took a seat across from him. Her green eyes sparkled with      amusement. \"I finally found time to read one of her books-her most      recent, I think, Death by Potato Sprouts. Do you ever worry when      she makes you a fruit smoothie that you might not live to drink      all of it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam burst out laughing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trish left to place his order, then reappeared behind the bar and      held up an empty tumbler. \"One for the road?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Only one. Make it my usual, please.\" Cam stood and took his glass      of water to the bar, where he could chat with Trish while he ate.      Normally a serving of wings arrived quickly, but the cook seemed      to be taking his time today. Trish soon grew busy busing tables.      One of her helpers, a thin blonde everyone called Cowgirl,      refilled Cam's water glass. \"How's your day going?\" he asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good,\" she said without enthusiasm. Cam could tell she hated      being there and wondered why she stayed on. Maybe she couldn't      find other work. \"Not much news to report. Same-old, same-old.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trish returned, and Cam was glad to see her. At least she knew how      to carry on a casual conversation. \"I think the cook must have      driven to Missoula for more wings,\" she teased. She made Cam's      drink, a dash of Apple Crown over ice, and slid it across the      counter to him. Then she held up a leather dice cup. \"Want to try      your luck while you're waiting?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Cowboy Tree ran daily dice games, the details scrawled on a      white dry-erase board. The jackpots were often handsome, sometimes      as much as a thousand dollars. Cam had won eight hundred one night      when his mom had visited Montana to see their land before they      purchased it. He'd never thrown a good roll since.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Nah. I think Mom's my lucky charm. I'll bring her back in for      dinner some night and try a few rolls then.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Trish shook the dice, and her cheek dimpled with a saucy grin. \"I      have a feeling it's your day to win. Roll a full house, and you'll      have eight big ones in your pocket.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam shrugged, slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter, and stood      up. It was only a few bucks, and he rarely gambled. Why not? He      took the cup, gave it a shake, and slapped the mouth down on the      counter so the dice wouldn't go every which way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, my God!\" Trish cried in a hushed voice. Then she yelled, \"He      won. First roll, five of a kind! A thousand bucks, people!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam had four more tries to go. He sensed a crowd gathering behind      him. Then, from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a woman next to      him. When he glanced down at her, he felt as if every brain cell      he possessed went AWOL. She was beautiful, not the dolled-up kind      of beautiful, but naturally lovely. Her straight black hair fell      over her slender shoulders like shimmering silk. As far as he      could detect, she wore no cosmetics, but that didn't detract from      her features, which were delicately molded and enhanced her large      dark blue eyes, outlined in long sooty lashes untouched by      mascara.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She arched an eyebrow. \"Aren't you going to roll again?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam realized that he held the cup frozen at shoulder height.      \"Sure,\" he found the presence of mind to say. \"You just took the      wind out of my sails.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's a line that's seen its day,\" she said with a laugh. \"Roll      hot, cowboy. I like winners.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam shook the dice, and one die shot off the counter. He winced as      Trish picked it up, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.      He wasn't a hormone-driven teenager.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Free roll,\" Trish said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam took another turn. Trish shrieked. When Cam focused, he saw      that he'd rolled another five of a kind. He tossed the dice three      more times and got zip. After Trish counted his winnings onto the      bar, he plucked one bill from the pile and handed it to her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You don't have to do that, Cam. A hundred bucks? No way.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hey, you're the one who convinced me it might be my lucky day.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As Cam collected his money, the other woman shifted closer and      asked, \"Would you like to join me at my table?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam swept his gaze downward from her remarkable face to take in      the rest of her. She wore a fitted plaid Western shirt that had      endured some wear, faded Wrangler jeans, and scuffed riding boots,      the toe of one sporting a piece of hay. He also caught the      familiar scent of horses mingling faintly with her perfume. He      grabbed his drink. Just my kind of gal, he thought. Maybe it      really is my lucky day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As Kirstin Conacher led the way to her table, she was acutely      aware of the man behind her. HeÕd caught her attention the moment      he entered the building-muscular, six feet of handsome, with      tousled hair that gleamed like the well-varnished knotty pine bar.      His eyes were a radiant sky blue, and he had a burnished tone to      his skin that pegged him as an outdoor enthusiast. She could tell      with only a look that he was no stranger to physical labor, and      sheÕd been impressed by the easy, warm way he conversed with      Trish. No fake charm, no canned lines. She found the sense of      authenticity that he gave off very refreshing. There was also      something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldnÕt recall ever      having met him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Oh, Kirstin, she mentally scolded herself, what on earth were you      thinking to hit on him like that? Her cheeks burned with      embarrassment. So what if she'd been searching for the right guy      for six years and could hear her biological clock ticking? That      was no excuse for her to be so forward. Normally she waited for a      man to hit on her, not the other way around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She resumed her seat, where a martini, extra dirty and straight      up, still awaited her. In Kirstin's opinion, Trish made the best      one in the valley. Only she hadn't come here for an afternoon      drink. The martini was merely one of her stage props. She'd      learned over time that men in bars tended to steer clear of a lone      woman having a soda. A recognizable mixed drink seemed to spur on      conversation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cam took a stool across from her. \"Have you already ordered?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She met his gaze, and a tingling sensation moved up her spine.      That surprised her. She'd met dozens of handsome men, but she'd      never felt like this. \"Yes. The cook seems to be dragging his feet      today.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Come here often?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not that often.\" Liar, liar, boots on fire. She came to the      Cowboy Tree as often as she was able to escape from her dad's      ranch for a couple of hours. The male patrons tended to be      landowners who put in an honest day's work. She knew most of them,      and unfortunately, they also knew her. Local men didn't mess with      Sam Conacher's daughter. She kept hoping for a stranger to drop      in, someone wonderful who wouldn't know about her dad. \"Are you      new to the valley?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, yeah.\" He flashed a dazzling grin that creased his lean      cheeks and displayed straight white teeth. \"Anyone whose family      hasn't been in the valley for three generations is a newcomer, or      so I'm told. It'll be years before I earn the privilege of being      recognized as a Bitterrooter.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She bent her head and toyed with her olive pick. Her cheeks went      warm again. When she looked up, she said, \"I hope I didn't give      you the wrong impression. I don't habitually hit on guys.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A twinkle danced in his eyes. \"Did you hit on me? It went over my      head. I guess I need to get out more.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My name's Kirstin.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Cam.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I know. I heard Trish talking with you after you came in. Short      for Cameron?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yep. Cameron McLendon.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her fingers tightened on the olive pick. \"Scottish?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Only half. My mom's Irish.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kirstin's father was a Scot, and he was the most stubborn,      irascible man she'd ever known. He hadn't always been that way,      though. The death of her mother six years earlier had changed him.      \"Well, half Scottish or not, you seem nice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He chuckled. \"I take it you have a low opinion of Scots.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not really. Just a difficult experience with one in particular.\"      She took a sip of her drink. \"So, Cameron McLendon, tell me about      yourself.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He smiled. \"Boring story.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So is mine, I'm afraid, but to get acquainted, we have to start      somewhere, and I asked first.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He chuckled. \"Want me to get two toothpicks so you can prop your      eyelids open?\" He followed the question with a sigh. \"Okay, here      goes. I got a job opportunity with Long Barrel Ranches, and I've      wanted to live here or in northern Idaho most of my adult life. It      was finally my chance to chase my dreams, so I took the position.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm not bored yet. Keep talking.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He shrugged. \"For a long time, my dreams took second seat to my      responsibilities, and I got stuck in Northern California. It's not      that I dislike California, but after a couple of trips to this      area, I fell in love. I kept hoping I might settle here, but life      kept throwing me curveballs.\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303670960357,"sku":"NP9780399586323","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399586323.jpg?v=1767738685","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-christmas-room-isbn-9780399586323","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}