A Mail-Order Dream

By: Janelle Daniels

Miners to Millionaires - Book 4





Used to working for her keep, Aria McKinnon doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she’s a woman of means. She’s determined to work as a nanny for Cameron Grant’s two unruly children, and Irish or not, she will get the job. What she didn’t expect was for the ruthless banker she’d heard so much about to set her pulse racing.

Cameron Grant has no desire to remarry. Ever. He needs a caretaker for his children, preferably one that will last longer than a week. When Aria McKinnon walks into his office, her fiery spirit lights something inside him long extinguished. He warns her that there’s no future for them, but when she begins to court another, he’s eaten up with jealousy and questions his need to push her away.

When Cameron’s children run away after overhearing an argument, Aria and Cameron must work together to find them. But the only way to bring them home safely is to take another risk… on love.



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To Dan for making all of my dreams come true.





Chapter 1





“He’s going to want you. He’s totally going to want you,” Aria McKinnon told herself as she straightened her hat with a firm yank and stepped onto the dusty street toward the bank. “Just breathe. He’s already hired you.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Technically, Cameron Grant, the owner of Promise Creek’s bank, hadn’t hired her—his housekeeper had. Still, Mrs. Farnsworth had reassured Aria that Mr. Grant wouldn’t object. The problem was, Aria wasn’t so sure about that.

Self-consciously, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. The bright red color no longer flew through the air, drawing attention. Not that she was ashamed of it. In fact, she loved the striking appearance her fiery-red hair and shamrock-green eyes presented. It reminded her of her family back home in Philadelphia and of all the family who still lived in Ireland.

But that’s what made her so nervous. She was Irish.

In her experience, no one wanted to hire an Irish girl, especially not as a nanny. But this was a fresh start in a new place, and the majority of people in Promise Creek haven’t seemed to mind her heritage. However, a man like Mr. Grant, someone who’d built his fortune in the gold rush town—a shrewd businessman who’d often been called hard, calculating, and ruthless—was sure to object to having her as his employee.

She wasn’t going to let that stop her though. Her parents had taught her to fight for what she wanted, for what she believed in—and right now, she wanted this job. She wanted the security it would bring, she wanted the challenge it presented, and she would just have to talk Mr. Grant out of any prejudices he might have.

Irish or not, she would be looking after his two children.

She stepped onto the boardwalk outside the bank and swatted at the dust that had settled on her emerald green skirt. She needed to look professional and competent, not like a dust bunny just run over by a stagecoach.

Straightening her shoulders, feeling as well-put-together as possible, she gripped the bank’s sun-warmed brass handle and pushed her way into the polished building.

She hadn’t been here much. Ronan Briggs, the worker in charge of mining their claim, handled most transactions. And thank heavens too. Ivan, the man who’d ordered himself nine mail-order brides, herself included, and had died only a few days before they’d all arrived, hadn’t thought banking and budgeting were necessary in a wife. All the women had come from different backgrounds; some had been rich, some poor. A few of them were forthright and outspoken, while others were shy and quiet. The only things they all had in common were that they were pretty and they’d had to leave home for one reason or another.

And now here she was.

She walked up to the counter, her shoulders and back straight, hoping she looked confident. “I’m here to see Mr. Grant,” she told the balding bank teller.

“Do you have an appointment?” He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her hair, as if doubting Mr. Grant would want to speak with her.

Her back straightened even more. “Yes. I do.”

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