A Matchmaker’s Romantic Dilemma (Preview)

Prologue

The wind whipped past the carriage like a howling, angry miser dead set on ensuring that everyone knew his misery. It shook the already quivering wooden boards underfoot and rattled the shutters that were closed tight against the bitter, biting cold of the early morning, but still the one body that sat huddled in the coach winced from how it managed to pervade the space regardless. 

Even wrapped in a blanket, she could feel the icy tendrils attempting to paw at her. Her green eyes were shut tight against the insistence of it like she could deny that it existed at all. 

Emma didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. 

She hadn’t thought there was a single place on earth that could be as cold as Boston in the morning, convinced that the wild West would be warmer and more inviting than the journey there thus far had been. But the closer to Montana that the coach drew, the colder the mornings became and the louder the wind seemed to howl. 

“And, oh, Emma, how the lake sparkles in the warm summertime air!” her uncle had written. But Emma hadn’t passed one lake, sparkling or otherwise, in so many days of travel she was starting to wonder if the earth hadn’t swallowed up any hint of water at the news of her coming. 

It was barely light outside of the closed shutters of the carriage, but Emma could hear the horses whickering back and forth, the driver and the hand calling back and forth over the roaring wind. She could hear the laughter in their voices—an oddity to her considering how cold to the bone she was—and the stamp of hooves against hard earth as the carriage flew along a path that barely seemed to exist. 

She’d imagined the trip many times, over many letters back and forth with her mother’s brother as he’d tried to convince her to come out and visit him. She’d imagined camping beneath open skies and traveling with a pair of ruffians with hearts of gold. She’d pictured the wild countryside and the trees that she would admire, but it had never looked like this. 

They’d been beset by storms the first half of their journey, rain pelting the wood and thunder so loud that it shook Emma’s bones. 

Then had come the wind. 

She’d barely had but a few glances of the lush greenery that they traveled through, and even that had only been in short intervals. Views she’d spent months getting excited about now seemed like only teasing previews of what she had so looked forward to. 

“Oh, you’re being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, clenching her teeth as she jerked the blanket more tightly about herself. 

She’d have plenty of time to see the views. On the journey or otherwise, though she supposed that the return journey was a null and void point to try and entice herself with, being that there wouldn’t be one. 

She frowned harder, wincing at the sudden stab of grief that thought brought with it. 

Which, of course, was equally as ridiculous of her. 

Uncle Frederick would be appalled that she was so melancholy on her long-awaited journey. 

But he wouldn’t be there waiting for her like they had planned, and try as she might, that thought was a constant shadowed reminder in the back of all her excitement and complaints. 

After months of planning, only just a few short days before her intended start to their visit, she’d received a letter from Helena, Montana. Only it hadn’t been from him. 

It had been from his solicitors. 

The news of his passing had been so sudden and unexpected that at first, Emma had convinced herself that she must have imagined it. Even rereading the letter, it had felt as if someone else were receiving the news and she was just sitting there watching them hear it for the first time. 

He has left his only surviving relative, his sister’s daughter Emma Shelby, all of his worldly goods and possessions.

She’d somehow skipped over that line the first several read-throughs, so ensconced in her grief that it had faded into the litany of other words transcribed on the page. 

“Miss Shelby,” a voice called from above, breaking through Emma’s drab little reverie with a sharp knock to the shutters. “Miss Shelby, I hate to wake you, but we’re comin’ up on Helena now, iff’n you wanted to get good and ready.” 

Emma blinked owlishly at the shutters for a moment, the baritone of the carriage hand’s voice as deep as it had been unexpected. 

Coming up on Helena? 

Surely they hadn’t traveled that much since breaking camp!

She hurried to sit upright, shrugging out of the blanket only enough to throw open the shutters to find a shocked-looking Henry staring back at her from where he was bent awkwardly from the driver’s seat to pass the news along to her. 

The carriage hand’s upturned nose pinkened, his dark brown eyes widening as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, ma’am. Like I was saying—” 

“We’re already coming up on Helena?” Emma interrupted him nervously, biting down hard on her lip for how she’d interrupted him. 

Green as far as the eye could see raced behind him, like the rolling hills of Montana were the ones moving, carrying the carriage to its destination along their flower-dotted backs. 

Henry grinned, his chipped tooth glinting in the golden yellow glow that shone from above as the sun began to climb in the sky. “Yes, ma’am. Iff’n you’ll look out that’a way,” he jerked his chin behind him, “you can just see the town now.” 

“You fool of a boy!” Daryl’s gruff voice sounded from the driver’s seat. “Turn around and get back up here before the horses jostle you on outta your seat!” 

Henry grinned at Emma one last time, winking as he twisted to follow Daryl’s orders, and Emma’s breath caught in her throat. 

He hadn’t been exaggerating, though he’d been in the way of her seeing what he was trying to reference. 

Behind him, a town loomed in the distance. They were just close enough to make out the buildings and the strange, mismatched layout that it seemed to have. Even from a distance, it didn’t look like anything she was accustomed to, growing up in Boston. 

Her heart raced in her chest, the cold of the wind forgotten as she leaned forward eagerly. 

There was no glittering lake in sight, that was still true, but the green hills seemed to nestle the town into them, the golden rays of the sun dancing atop their odd buildings and making the whole place shine much like the substance that so many settlers had rushed to Helena for when it had first been established. 

She still felt that inkling of grief at knowing that when she arrived her uncle wouldn’t be there waiting with his red-tinged mustache and his burly, welcoming arms. But there was a warmth with it too, spreading through her chest and swelling within her. 

Hope. 

“We’ll carry ya right up to the boarding house, Miss Shelby,” Daryl called back to her with a grunt. “Ain’t no sense in makin’ ya walk none.” 

Emma grinned, already taking the blanket fully off of herself to fold up and fussing about her travel-wrinkled dress and hair in preparation. 

It was sweet and she wanted to thank them for it. She wanted to thank both Daryl and Henry for a great many things, but the words stuck in her throat. 

Excitement. 

After days of travel, she was finally there, all of her belongings packed up in the cases that she’d brought with her and the start of her new life so close that she could reach out and touch it—almost. 

Even getting herself ready, she couldn’t bring herself to close the window back up. She stared out of it eagerly as the green landscape was replaced by a warren of mismatched buildings and houses, people already milling the streets in the early morning with a cheerful purpose. 

Almost everyone they passed shaded their eyes against the rising sun to look at the carriage, more than a few raising the other hand in greeting. 

And Henry and Daryl called out greetings right and left the whole way, addressing so many people by name that Emma’s head spun. 

Boston was louder, at any time of day, but not nearly so conversational as Helena seemed to be, and lacking the intimate familiarity that people here seemed to address one another with. 

“Righty’ho!” Henry called out as the carriage came to a shuddering halt. He swung down from the driver’s seat, laughing at Daryl’s muttering that Emma could only just make out, and made a show of opening her door. “Welcome, Miss Shelby, to the grand, illustrious Shelby Boarding House.” 

Despite the nerves fluttering around her belly like butterflies after a morning rain, the words bolstered Emma. She took Henry’s offered hand with an unsteady smile as she stepped out of the carriage and onto the step just outside of the door. 

It wasn’t until he’d helped her down onto the sidewalk that she got a good look at her new home. 

As all of that hope and excitement tumbled about in her belly, a dreadful disappointment  began eating away at the edges and threatening to consume all of it as she looked Shelby Boarding House over from roof to doorstep. 

The once-white wood of the establishment was grayed and peeling, the brown front door as drab as it was weathered. There was no fancy lettering or bright flowers dotting the walkway like she had imagined. 

“Oh, Uncle Frederick,” Emma whispered to herself as Henry dropped her hand and hurried to assist in getting her luggage out. 

She felt almost as weathered and wooden as the dilapidated building in front of her as she walked forward, the key that her uncle’s solicitors had sent her trembling in her hand as she went to unlock the front door. 

Even the key stuck, as if it too were just shy of being in prime condition. 

Behind her, Daryl and Henry called out to one another again, but she moved as if led by an otherworldly force, walking into the boarding house with her heart hammering in her throat. 

The wallpaper had suffered the same fate as the paint outside, peeling and old. Dust clung to the air as Emma’s eyes rolled over every inch of the outdated, shabby space. 

“I could use some help bringing the boarding house into the new world,” her Uncle Frederick had written. “Some new paint, some new furniture. A new set of young eyes!”

She’d thought he was just being charming, but turning in a circle there in the middle of the entryway, the once-great oak desk dull and covered in a fine layer of what she hoped was dust and not grime, Emma realized just how understated he had been in his request. 

The bright offer of a new life, a new future, with an income to support herself and a home and business in one seemed like some faraway dream looking at what she had been left. 

Surely no one would pay to stay here. 

“Miss Shelby?” Henry asked hesitantly as he followed her inside, her few suitcases tucked beneath both arms and clutched in his hands as he came. “You okay?” 

Emma smiled, though it was tremulous, and tried to keep her dismay from being too obvious. 

“Well, it’s not what I expected,” she admitted with a cheery brightness she didn’t quite feel. “But I’m sure with a little love and time, I can make this place something spectacular.” 

Henry’s warm eyes sparkled as he bent to set her things down next to the entry desk. “I’d be glad to see it,” he promised with a quick grin. “And I’ll be glad to stay here once you do, too! When we come through. I’m sure a little polish’ll go a long way; I think my gran used to say as much.” 

Emma nodded, holding her disbelief at bay. A little polish it would not be. Transforming this space was going to take every penny left to her from both her mother’s and uncle’s passing, and then some. Weeks of work, if she was lucky, and it really all was just cosmetic. 

“I’ll have to set up a discount for postal employees,” she said instead of all of her grim thoughts. 

Henry beamed. 

“Henry!” Daryl hollered from outside, sounding impatient. 

“That’ll be me, Miss Shelby.” Henry laughed. “But I’d like that. I wish you all the luck. And welcome home!” 

Home. 

That word seemed to ring in the boarding house even after Henry had rushed out of its door and slammed it behind him, disrupting the dust as he did. 

“Mercy,” she whispered, trying to gather her wits about her as she gave the place another look over. 

The books the solicitor had sent her showed that she had guests booked for three days from now. How was she supposed to transform the space in that little time? 

She wandered further into the front room off of the entryway, eying the well-made furniture as she did. The bones were there, that much was certain… they’d just been gnawed on and left to gather dust by the passage of time. 

In her mind’s eye, she could picture the space with new wallpaper and the fabric reupholstered on several of the chairs and couch. She opened the heavy curtains with a flourish, wrinkling her nose as she did so, and turned to survey the space once more with the gleam of the light from the window illuminating it all. 

There was nowhere else to go. She’d walked away from her life in Boston, tying up all her loose ends before she’d come. 

She had no family, no income, no trade that she’d learned to fall back on. 

There was only this boarding house, left to her out of a fondness that she’d not soon walk away from. 

She would just have to do what she could as she could, a room at a time. 

“Young eyes,” she joked to the empty room with a sad smile as she started rolling up her sleeves. “Well, young or old, everything looks better clean!” 

Getting herself cleaned up and rested was just going to have to wait. The boarding house needed a good dusting. After that… Well, after that, she would see.

 

Chapter One

“Maggie Johnson, don’t you keep taking my chores over for me!” Emma cried out exasperatedly, a smile tugging at her lips despite her tone. 

Her braid hung heavy over one shoulder, one hand on her cocked-out hip and her eyebrows raised pointedly as she stared at her friend. It took everything in her not to grin at the guilty look that the other girl wore, or to giggle at the way the broom still stood poised mid-sweep in her hand. 

Maggie seemed frozen in time, her silver-gray eyes wide and her lips puckered in a surprised “o.” She was a pretty girl, if a bit taller than what most would consider attractive, with stick-straight honey-blonde hair and fine, delicate features that hid her fiery temper and quick mouth. 

“You were seeing to Mr. McCoy’s issues!” Maggie finally blustered, her cheeks pinkening as she went back to briskly sweeping. “And I know better than to stick my foot in the middle of your matchmaking business, Emma Shelby, don’t tell me I don’t!” 

The entryway’s sage green wallpaper was their only witness, the warm lighting from the late afternoon sun making both girls’ smiles appear like flickering flames on their faces. 

“My business?” Emma repeated with a laugh. “My business is this boarding house, as you well know! I was just helping Mr. McCoy figure out how to write Jenny a letter—”

“That’ll woo and awe her,” Maggie filled in glibly. “I know. Everyone knows. Don’t act like it’s some big hushed-up secret now, Emma. You might run this boarding house, but we all know that’s only half the work you put into this town since you moved here. Plain and proper. Every match you’ve set to making has took. I don’t know who you think you’re foolin’, but it ain’t me.” 

Emma stared at Maggie for one long minute after her mini-tirade, her lips twitching before the amusement won out. She’d never laughed so hard or readily—but then, the last few months had seen a lot of firsts for her. 

There was something about Helena. There was something about the boarding house and the work that she had put into it, the payout clear from ceiling to floor. The entryway had been drab and depressing in how outdated it was when she’d arrived, but now it was warm and inviting, drawing in more than just the stream of boarders, but townspeople too. 

“I never!” she exclaimed through her laughter. “Maggie, I’m just helping where I can! If it happens to be a bit more often in people’s love lives then—” 

“A bit!” Maggie cried out, leaning on her broom with a grin wide enough to split her face in two. “A bit is a time or two! And you do help outside’a love lives you know. You helped the Jacobsons put up their new barn—” 

“Oh, pffff!” Emma waved her hand dismissively, cutting Maggie off with a roll of her eyes. “Mr. Jacobson helped me replace the flooring in two of our rooms, and Mrs. Jacobson gave me their leftover paint for in here as well as helped me paint the place!” 

Maggie’s smile softened, her head tilting as she took Emma in. “Emma Shelby, you’ve got to be one of the most genuine women I ever met, do you know that? Of course they helped you. You flew into town and set your heart right to helping everyone else around here. Mercy! You gave me a job within hours of meeting me!” 

Emma flushed, her whole face warm from the praise. She didn’t see it that way. She’d given Maggie the job because she had needed the help and Maggie had seemed dependable. 

As she’d proven to be! 

Maggie was quick to roll her sleeves up and get to work, providing Emma with not only another strong pair of willing hands but an even more willing ear for Emma to unload her troubles onto. For all that they teased one another, Maggie had fast become one of her very closest friends. 

“How did me getting onto you for taking over my chore turn into this?” Emma wondered aloud, her grin only slightly uncomfortable for how nice Maggie’s words had been. 

“Mr. McCoy,” Maggie answered pointedly. She smiled as she got back to sweeping, shaking her head in amusement at how easily Emma had become flustered. 

“You know, he came to me,” Emma reminded her friend, pointing at her as she busied herself behind the front desk. “I didn’t seek him out and go asking about his romantic troubles!” 

“You don’t have to,” Maggie said sagely. She turned to look at Emma with a raised brow. “Don’t you know how word has spread around here?” 

Emma didn’t. She wasn’t sure what Maggie was referring to, either, and the way she’d left it so open-ended almost sounded ominous. 

“The whole town is buzzing with the news that you’re a verified matchmaker!” Maggie’s eyebrows rose before they furrowed, as if she couldn’t quite pinpoint why Emma wouldn’t already know such a thing. “People from all over and outside of town are just itchin’ to get you to set them up with someone.” 

Emma blustered wordlessly, her flush darkening. She wasn’t a—well, she certainly didn’t think she’d earned any such title. She loved love, that was as plain as the day was long, but she didn’t do anything special to be recognized for such a fact! 

“I’m not a matchmaker.” She breathed disjointedly. “I mean, I might’ve helped a few people out—” 

“There you go with that understating things again,” Maggie teased. “You set Alan and BethAnne up within days of your moving here. And how many others since? Seven, eight pairings?” 

Emma shook her head, checking the guestbook against her records with a furrow of her own brows as she thought about it. “That’s hardly fair,” she murmured. “A good many of them weren’t ‘set up’ at all! They already had their eye on one another! Or at least one of them did.”

She was more uncomfortable than she wanted to let on. They were crossing too closely into territory that left a sour taste on her tongue, all of those accusations back in Boston still too close to the surface. She leaned down, allowing her braid to fall like a heavy curtain between her and Maggie.

But Maggie was more perceptive than she gave her credit for, the sound of the broom’s bristles stopping just moments before she came over to the desk. 

“Hey,” Maggie said more quietly, dropping her voice as she leaned in. “It’s not a bad thing, you know? I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just teasing. I think your helping people with love like you do is a blessing, Emma, really. And I don’t mind the sweeping.” 

Emma’s throat closed up some, her eyes misting as she looked up at her friend with a forced smile. 

“It’s not the sweeping. Or your teasing, really. I just… I’ve never been called a matchmaker,” she admitted softly. “Although there was some issue with my interfering…” She inhaled sharply, hating how much those remembered words still stung. 

“Your… interfering?” Maggie repeated, hesitating over the word with raised brows. 

Emma nodded shortly. “I think, well, it was rather bad gossip is all. I had helped a friend of mine, but her beau was supposed to be marrying someone else.” Even saying it out loud sounded bad, making Emma sigh in frustration. “Not like that! You know, things in Boston can still be a bit more traditional, among certain families, and his family wanted him to marry someone more his ‘type.’ The more society types, and my friend, well, she worked in the grocery store with me at the time. I’m doing a terrible job of explaining this.” 

“No, no! It makes sense,” Maggie assured her, reaching out and gripping her hand comfortingly. “So you helped your friend and her love reconnect, and his family was very upset about it? I can’t say that anyone out here follows that sort of thing, but I have heard of their arranged marriages and the sort.” 

Emma nodded with a tense smile. “Them and quite a few others. The grocer, my boss, well, he said I caused undue ruckus, accused me of being meddlesome and creating problems for his business. It was a whole mess.” She dropped her gaze, frowning. “It was originally why I was coming out to visit my uncle, for a reprieve from it all and to let things settle down, but, well…” She gestured at the boarding house with a small, fond laugh.

Maggie exhaled heavily, leaning forward on the desk with a gentle look in her silver eyes that immediately helped lessen Emma’s worry. 

“No one around here thinks what you do is ‘meddling,’ Emma Shelby,” she said firmly. “That news going around town is grateful. It’s excited. Everyone and their mama wants you to work your magic on them or someone they know. Not no one, nowhere, is going about looking on it as a bad thing, you hear me?” 

Emma did, and the words were enough to make her eyes mist over all over again. She didn’t trust her voice, not with the gratitude sweeping through her like it was, so she just nodded. 

“The only gossip, if anything, is people wondering why you haven’t made a match for yourself yet, that’s all. You’re plenty pretty enough, you’re kind, and with a gift like yours? People can’t make sense of it.” 

Again, the laughter took Emma by surprise, the hand Maggie wasn’t holding lifting to clap about her lips as she stared at her friend in shock.

Did they think she didn’t want a match? 

That was silly. She wanted love as much as anyone out there, and more than some she knew. But her expectations were sky high and that the image she had in her head of her true love was something that she had yet to see in real life, no matter how much she fancied doing so. 

“I like watching people fall in love.” Emma chuckled as she dropped her hand. “There’s just something special about that spark finally catching.” 

Maggie’s grin grew, her fingers squeezing Emma’s once before she let go of her hand and backed away from the desk. The dark golden hue of the last sun rays glinting through the front window played out across the floor and Maggie’s honey-colored hair both. 

“Then you just keep helping people fan that spark, Emma,” she ordered jokingly as she went to sweep the pile she’d made right out of the front door. “Don’t you pay any mind to that nonsense from Boston. We’re all real glad you came to Helena.” 

Anyone else saying it might have felt like a platitude, but there was no mistaking the warmth in Maggie’s voice, or how genuine she sounded. 

Despite how off-putting it had all been when she’d first arrived, she couldn’t help but agree. Helena was warm, welcoming, and felt more like home in the few months that she’d been there than Boston ever had, especially since her mama’s passing. 

“You finish up that sweeping and go on and get home,” Emma offered her friend with a smile of thanks. 

Maggie stopped, her head cocked as she shut the front door and turned back with a frown. “There’s still things to do, Emma—” 

“And I’ll manage them all just fine,” Emma assured her. “You already finished all of your chores and started in on what looks like several of mine, too. And tonight is slow! All the guests are already checked in, the rooms are full, and most of them have already gone to bed. Besides, it’ll be dark soon, and I hate the idea of you walking alone after nightfall.”

Maggie put the broom up in the closet by the door, dragging her feet as she did while searching for any excuse to stay, but Emma wasn’t having it. 

“Go!” She laughed. “Really, Maggie. I’m fine!” 

“I have been wanting to find time to read that book you lent me,” Maggie muttered, her lips twitching as she paused by the desk. “You’re sure you don’t want me to help you finish up for the night?” 

“I’m sure,” Emma promised. “You always end up staying late. Go home on time for once.” 

Maggie huffed, but without any ire. “Alright, alright already! I’m going to go home and take me a long bath, and then I’m going to go read that book, you watch me. And you’ll still be here cleaning up when I do. Don’t go blaming me tomorrow that you didn’t get to relax none.” She pointed at Emma, her lips still twitching, and moved to grab her things by the door. 

“It won’t take me but half an hour with you gone,” Emma teased back. “Now, get!” 

Maggie made a face, scrunching her nose up at Emma trying to copy that Western accent so many people around town had. But she didn’t bother offering any further argument. With a shake of her head and a wave, she was out of the door, leaving only silence behind her. 

It was a strange, bittersweet comfort, the bed and breakfast already so at peace for the night.

Emma was still stuck on her friend’s words and that twinge of discomfort from having brought up her past and all that she’d fled when leaving Boston. 

She hadn’t known what to think that first night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling and wondering if coming out all this way had been a mistake. But she’d sure prayed on it, closing her eyes tight and willing herself just to wait and see. 

And she was glad that she had. 

A little bit of faith, a lot of elbow grease, and the kindness of her neighbors in Helena had turned everything around. She liked being the first person to greet newcomers to town, more than willing to pay back that same welcome she’d been given. She enjoyed it even more when they came and she got to find someone for them that made their stay permanent. Even if it wasn’t in the boarding house, seeing them around town and knowing she’d been the one to help them achieve that happiness was something special. 

She smiled to herself as she finished wiping the desk down, already planning in her head what it would take to make biscuits with breakfast for her boarders. 

Sometime between all her cleaning and organizing, the sun had set in the west, the last rays replaced by a sweeping darkness that never failed to take Emma by surprise. There was always light in Boston, somewhere, in some house. But in Helena, after a certain time, it all just seemed to fade, leaving nothing but the stars and moon to cast any sort of light on the town. 

She pulled closed the dark green curtains she’d sewn as she thought about it, nearly jumping out of her skin when right as she did so, a knock sounded at the door. 

Sharp, loud, and insistent, it broke that peaceful silence that Maggie had left behind, making Emma’s heart race as she whirled in place.

Peeking out of the curtains, she could barely make out the figure standing on the front step, his all-black attire hiding everything but the fact that he was tall and lean.

Mercy, but it was too late for guests!

---

“A Matchmaker’s Romantic DilemmaE” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Emma Shelby abandons the comforts of Northern society after inheriting a worn boarding house from her late uncle in Helena. Soon, she transforms the new place into a haven for wanderers, thriving in the tight-knit community, where her reputation as a matchmaker precedes her. Emma remains the orchestrator of love but never its willing participant… However, everything changes when a mysterious stranger arrives at her doorstep.

Emma is unaware that Nathan’s presence is anything but coincidental…

Nathan, guided by logic and wealth, finds himself inexplicably drawn to the green-eyed proprietor of the boarding house. As days unfold, his gaze lingers on Emma, igniting a spark that threatens to ruin his secret mission. In the shadows of the boarding house, secrets simmer, and Nathan finds himself entangled in a web of emotions he never understood. The truth of his presence in Helena looms heavy, as his feelings for Emma ignite a strong flame inside him…

Will he find the courage to confess?

Each passing day pulls Emma and Nathan into a whirlwind of emotions, but secrets linger beneath the surface, threatening to destroy everything. Can they overcome the lies that stand between them, or will the truth sever their unanticipated connection? In a land where love is as unpredictable as its wild nature, Emma and Nathan must navigate the treacherous terrain of their hearts to discover if their love can withstand the storm…

“A Matchmaker’s Romantic Dilemma” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!