Lahat ng Kabanata ng A Christmas Baby for the Cowboy Billionaire: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

I should’ve known my love life falling apart wouldn’t be the only problem this December.But when the GPS started spinning like it was possessed and then froze with that friendly little “no signal” message, I knew it: the universe was laughing in my face.“Perfect. Wonderful. Exactly what I needed,” I complain to absolutely no one, pressing the screen as if violence might magically bring the signal back.Nothing.Just the vast Texas countryside stretching endlessly on both sides of the road—pastures, fences, and a few twisted trees bent by the wind. No houses. No gas stations. Not a single living soul.And, of course… no cellphone signal.I keep driving for a few more minutes, hoping some miracle internet tower will rise majestically on the horizon.But no.What rises instead is a loud, sharp noise.And then my car jerks violently to the left.“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no… you are not doing this to me!”The car jolts again, and again, and I manage to pull over before the whole thing d

The soft jingle of a bell hanging over the reception door was the first thing I heard as I stepped into the lobby of Snowfall Creek Ranch. It was a gentle sound, almost shy, perfectly matching the cozy, rustic charm of the space stretching out before me.The reception area was warm and inviting, lit by golden lights strung along thick ropes of sisal. A massive Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with red bows and wooden ornaments. Garlands framed the wooden beams overhead, and the scent of cinnamon, pine, and something that smelled suspiciously like freshly baked cookies filled the air. It was impossible not to take a deep breath.From behind the counter came a short, sweet-looking older woman with curled gray hair and an apron covered in tiny reindeer.“You must be Alice!” she said, her smile so warm it nearly melted me on the spot. “My name is Rosa. Welcome to Snowfall Creek Ranch… and I’m sorry about your tire. Marco told me.”Perfect. He had already spread the news.“It

Morning on the ranch always starts the same way for me—cold air biting at my skin, the kind of silence that only exists before the world fully wakes, and the smell of pine drifting in from the woods. Even after all these years, it still feels right. Familiar. Solid. A routine that doesn’t change, even when everything else in my life has.I shrug on my worn denim jacket and step out of my cabin, boots crunching over frost-kissed grass. I may be the owner of this whole place, but my father made damn sure I learned how to work like any other farmhand—especially before I ever got to enjoy the “owner” part of the job. And honestly? I prefer it that way.My favorite time of the day, though… is the stable.Warm breath huffs against my neck as soon as I push the doors open, the horses shifting inside their stalls, some still half-asleep, some already impatient for attention.But Tornado—my Tornado—is wide awake.“Morning, boy,” I say, stepping toward his stall.He’s a big black stallion, stro

I don’t know what I expected from a rustic dinner in a barn, but certainly not this: warm lights strung like constellations across wooden beams, the smell of grilled corn and roasted meat drifting through the air, and a band of five older gentlemen in flannel playing country versions of ABBA songs.Honestly? It’s adorable.Everyone’s already gathered, chatting, laughing, eating. Some kids run in circles chasing each other with paper horses. And then there’s me—standing at the entrance like a lost city girl wondering if “barn chic” is a dress code I somehow missed.“Alice! My dear, over here!”Of course. Rosa. The sweetest, most dangerous old lady I’ve ever met.She and her two partners in crime —Maria and Odete— are sitting at a big round table near the buffet. They wave at me as if I’d disappear if they blinked.I take a breath and walk toward them, hoping that tonight, just once, I’ll be allowed to eat in peace.I should’ve known be

I should be heading down to dinner right now. I know that.I can hear the music coming from the barn even from my cabin — the muffled sound of guitars, laughter, conversations. The night is cold but lively. The kind of thing that, at any other moment in my life, I would love to join.But all I have to do is tilt my head slightly for the nausea to return with full force, spinning inside me as if it were trying to turn my stomach inside out. I close my eyes and take a slow breath, trying not to think about the smell of food that’s probably already spreading through the air down there. My head throbs.“This is not going to work tonight,” I mumble to myself, burying my face into the pillow.Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I thought I’d handle this part easily — like it was just one more challenge in my endless list of things I face without planning. But some days… some days the body simply betrays me. Like now