Praise for New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels
“You won’t be able to put it down.”
—New York Times bestselling author Jodi Thomas on Heartbreaker
“Daniels is a perennial favorite on the romantic suspense front, and I might go as far as to label her the cowboy whisperer.”
—BookPage on Luck of the Draw
“Daniels keeps readers baffled with a taut plot and ample red herrings, expertly weaving in the threads of the next story in the series as she introduces a strong group of primary and secondary characters.”
—Publishers Weekly on Stroke of Luck
“Daniels again turns in a taut, well-plotted, and suspenseful tale with plenty of red herrings. Readers will be in from the start and engaged until the end.”
—Library Journal on Stroke of Luck
“Readers who like their romance spiced with mystery can’t go wrong with Stroke of Luck by B.J. Daniels.”
—BookPage
“Daniels is an expert at combining layered characters, quirky small towns, steamy chemistry and added suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Hero’s Return
“B.J. Daniels has made Cowboy’s Legacy quite a nail-biting, page-turner of a story. Guaranteed to keep you on your toes.”
—Fresh Fiction
Also by New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels
A Buckhorn, Montana Novel
Out of the Storm
From the Shadows
Montana Justice
Restless Hearts
Heartbreaker
Heart of Gold
Sterling’s Montana
Stroke of Luck
Luck of the Draw
Just His Luck
The Montana Cahills
Renegade’s Pride
Outlaw’s Honor
Cowboy’s Legacy
Cowboy’s Reckoning
Hero’s Return
Rancher’s Dream
Wrangler’s Rescue
The Montana Hamiltons
Wild Horses
Lone Rider
Lucky Shot
Hard Rain
Into Dust
Honor Bound
Look for B.J. Daniels’s next novel available soon from HQN.
For additional books by B.J. Daniels, visit her website, www.bjdaniels.com.
From the Shadows
New York Times Bestselling Author
B.J. Daniels
I dedicate this book to my niece, Jennifer Pearson Weaver. As the characters in my books discover—things don’t always begin well. But as we know, it’s how the story ends that really counts. So glad that you and Charley have each other now. Here’s to many more happy endings!
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM AT THE CROSSROADS BY B.J. DANIELS
CHAPTER ONE
Friday
FINN LAY ON the dusty floor of the massive, old and allegedly haunted Crenshaw Hotel and extended his arm as far as it would go into the dark cubbyhole he’d discovered under the back stairs. A spiderweb latched on to his hand, startling him. He chuckled at how jumpy he was today as he shook the clinging strands from his fingers. He had more to worry about than a few cobwebs. Shifting to reach deeper, his fingers brushed over what appeared to be a notebook stuck in the very back.
Megan Broadhurst’s missing diary? Had he finally gotten lucky?
The air from the cubbyhole reeked of age and dust and added to the rancid smell of his own sweat. He should have been used to all of it by now. He’d spent the past few months searching this monstrous old relic by day. At night, he’d lain awake listening to its moans and groans, creaks and clanks, as if the place were mocking him. What are you really looking for? Justice? Or absolution?
What he hadn’t expected, though, was becoming invested in the history of the place and the people who’d owned it, especially the new owner—who would be arriving any day now to see the hotel demolished. Casey Crenshaw had inherited the structure after her grandmother’s recent death. Word was that she’d immediately put it up for sale to a buyer who planned to raze it.
Finn had been looking for a place to disappear when he’d heard about the hotel, which had been boarded up and empty for the past two years. He’d known it would be his last chance before the hotel was destroyed. It had felt like fate as he’d gotten off the bus in Buckhorn and pried his way into the Crenshaw. He’d been in awe of the infamous hotel because of its illustrious history even before he’d stepped inside and seen how beautiful and haunting it was.
He’d only become more fascinated when he’d stumbled across Anna Crenshaw’s journals. That was why he felt as if he already knew her granddaughter, Casey. He was looking forward to finally meeting her.
His fingers brushed over the notebook pages. He feared he would only push it farther back into the dark space or, worse, that its pages would tear before he could get good purchase. Carefully he eased the notebook out.
This was the first thing he’d found that had been so well hidden. He hoped that meant it was the diary that not even the county marshal and all his deputies had been able to find.
He coughed from the thick dust that floated into the air as he sat up, bringing the notebook with him as he got to his feet. As he did, he caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall and was startled by the man he saw. His dark hair was way too long, his beard scruffy.
Shaking his head, he had to smile. Most everyone in Buckhorn, Montana, thought he was homeless, and that was why he’d been holed up in the hotel for the past few months. He definitely looked the part.
He ran a hand over his beard, hardly recognizing himself. For months he’d avoided mirrors, avoided looking himself in the eye. At one time, it had made sense coming here. He’d known the place was empty. It had been boarded up due to the elderly owner’s declining health and subsequent death.
But now new owner Casey Crenshaw was on her way. From what he’d heard, she couldn’t wait to not only get the hotel sold, but razed. That seemed odd—unless you’d spent some time here at night, he thought with a laugh. Did she think leveling it would get rid of the ghosts?
Last night, he’d stood at the window looking out
