"Happy Trail was a feel good, funny and heartwarming
adventure with the usual Daisy Prescott charm.."-- T. Gephart, USA Today bestselling author
Happy Trail, an all-new opposites
attract standalone romance from USA Today
bestselling author Daisy Prescott, is available now!
A
man of few words, Ranger Jay Daniels values the calm, quiet solitude of the
Great Smoky Mountains. Never quite fitting in with either side of his family,
he prefers the company of birds and trees to people.
Yeah,
he’d most definitely prefer a bird—any bird, any bird at all, take a vulture
for instance—to the human-tornado hybrid that just blew onto his peaceful
stretch of the Appalachian Trail.
The
path of true love never has run smooth for Olive Perry. After getting dumped
and promptly abandoned in the middle of her multi-month hike, Olive swears off
men. Determined to finish the long trek by herself, she doesn’t need a
prince—or broody and taciturn ranger—to save her.
Yet,
when an early snowstorm threatens the mountains, and Ranger Daniels is charged
with getting hikers to safety, that includes hot-tempered Olive Perry. Snowed
in and forced to share an abandoned cabin, can Olive’s heated intensity melt
Jay’s cool reserve?
And
if so, will this happy trail lead to true love? Or will their time together be
just another bump in the road?
'Happy Trail' is a full-length contemporary romantic
comedy, can be read as a standalone, and is book#1 in the Park Ranger series.
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today!
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Excerpt
“Can
we drop the pretense of not being trapped on the wrong side of the fence with
whatever bloodthirsty beast is making such a sound?” I squint into the
distance, hoping narrowing my eyes will give me super strength vision.
It
doesn’t. I step behind Ranger Daniels for protection.
“What
are you doing?” He twists his neck to look down at me.
“Hiding.
I believe you took an oath to protect and serve.”
“Pfft.
You’re confusing me with a police officer. I’m here to engage, educate, and
empower.” He moves so he’s beside me.
“You
carry a gun, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.
Do you see a holster now?”
I
scan his hips and shake my head, allowing my eyes to linger on the tight fit of
his uniform pants over his strong thighs and the thick belt at his narrow
waist. Ranger Daniels is packing heat, but not of the pistol variety.
Is it hot in here, or is
it just me?
A
distinct braying reaches my ears.
“Is
that a donkey?” I tip my head.
“What
would a donkey be doing up here? Makes no sense.”
“Ask
him. Or her.” I point at the gray beast moving toward us. “I’m a city girl, but
I’m pretty sure that’s an ass.”
“Well,
I’ll be damned.” Jay removes his hat.
Maybe
he plans to shoo away our attacker with it?
The
gray form ambles toward us, letting out a loud bray and revealing large teeth.
“Should
we be worried?” I’m standing behind Jay again.
“About
a donkey? They’re mostly docile. He’s probably just curious.” Shifting his
attention forward, he addresses our new friend. “Hey there. Where’d you come
from?”
The
donkey halts.
“See?
He’s fine. Probably thinks we’re bringing treats.”
“And
what will he do when he realizes we’re showing up to his house empty-handed?”
I’m half mocking. In my world, not bringing a hostess gift is an unthinkable
breach of etiquette. I have no idea about the social decorum for equines.
“Let’s
go.” Jay encourages me forward with a sweep of his hat.
We
take several steps and the donkey does the same without breaking eye contact,
like we’re about to duel. There’s definitely a challenge, a mild threat in the
eyes of our new foe.
“Should
we slowly retreat to the fence?” I whisper at Jay’s back.
“Nah,
we’re fine.”
“Maybe
he’s a guard donkey.” I slide a glance over my shoulder toward safety. We’re a
dozen or so yards away, but it isn’t too late to make a quick escape.
Jay’s
eyes meet mine. “You know guard donkeys aren’t a thing.”
“I’m
a stranger in a strange land—anything’s possible.” I wait until he faces
forward to stick my tongue out at him.
He’s
shaking his head and clearly not paying attention to me anymore as he stomps
across the squishy field.
Left
with no choice, I follow after him.
My
boot slips in the mud, or donkey poop—it’s impossible to tell the difference. I
squawk and flail my arms as I tumble forward in an awkward motion resembling
the mating dance of an emu.
The
donkey’s ears prick up before flattening against his head.
“Uh
oh,” I murmur as I straighten up.
“It’s
fine,” Jay says for the dozenth time.
Only
he’s wrong.
About Daisy
Prescott
Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy
currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her
husband, their rescue dog, Mulder, and an imaginary house goat. When not
writing about herself in the third person, Daisy can be found traveling,
gardening, baking, or lost in a good book.
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Daisy
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Website: https://www.daisyprescott.com/
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