Delivery to the Farmhouse

A heart divided and a decision that could be the most difficult of her life.
Betrayed by her ex and determined to follow her dreams of traveling, Natalie has sworn off relationships. But when her car gets stuck at Havenwood Farm, Colton Holden comes to her rescue—something she so doesn’t need.

Except Colton is a far cry from what she expected. In fact, he makes her question everything.

As they spend more time together, Natalie and Colton forge an unexpected connection. Soon, he is filling the void left in her heart. But just as Natalie starts to fall for him, her past comes back to haunt her, and she’s faced with a heart-wrenching decision:

Can she find a way to pursue her dreams without losing her chance at true love?

If you like the heartwarming, small-town feel of Jessie Gussman and the enthralling romance of Jody Hedlund, then you'll devour this addictively moving series.

Buy DELIVERY TO THE FARMHOUSE, book four in Catelyn Meadows' beloved Havenwood Cowboys Romance Series, to revisit this charming, quaint town today!

Chapter One

I was feeling my way through the dark.

Seeing my home full of boxes and then helping my parents, brother, and sister-in-law, Jenn, lug those boxes to the big moving truck outside was like a ticking time bomb in my chest.

The pin had been pulled. The timer was marking down those formidable red numbers. When that thing went off, there would be debris everywhere inside of me.

Dad had been the postmaster for Bridgewater’s little post office for longer than I’d been alive. After thirty-eight years, he’d retired. Mom wasn’t far behind him—she’d also retired as a postal clerk. And now, they were leaving town.

Leaving me.

It was fine. Totally. Completely. Happily. Fulfillingly.

This was natural. They’d earned it after so many years.

Besides, I had my own plans. I was ready to move out, to live on my own, to pave my own way through life.

If only I knew which direction that should be.

I gazed around the empty apartment. It had never been this clean.

Footsteps and voices preluded Dad’s appearance at the open front door. He panted, winded from the climb up the post office’s back steps up to where we lived above it. I peered past him at the moving truck’s boxy trailer parked on the street below.

Dad was nearing seventy—that was a lot of steps for someone his age. Just another reason he and Mom were relocating to live in the new house they’d had built in Saint Anthony.

“All right, Natalie. I think that’s it,” Dad said, resting against the wall.

My brother, Isaac, strode in behind him and handed him a bottle of water. Dad took it with a grateful nod and swigged it back.

“That’s it,” Mom said on a breath, coming out of their bedroom with a box in hand. Her hair—dyed brown—was pulled away from her face.

They didn’t look that old to me, but then again, I saw them every day. Their faces, hair, and the tiredness behind their expressions, were all things I’d gotten used to. This was a new light, though.

They were “getting up there,” as Isaac had said earlier today when he’d arrived with the empty U-Haul.

They were.

“You could come with us, you know.” Dad shuffled toward me. His glasses had thin frames, and he peered through them with kind eyes. “It’s not too late.”

“That’s right,” Mom perked up. “We just moved you over to that rental. You’re still all packed. We could haul your things out to the U-Truck—”

“It’s U-Haul, Mom,” Isaac said.

“That’s what I said, haul them out to the truck. Just pack you right on up with us.”

“I already paid my lease with Dorothy. I need to move out on my own sometime,” I said.

Along with moving my parents’ things, Dad, Isaac, Jenn, and I had already lugged my belongings and the few random pieces of furniture I owned into my new apartment in Dorothy Erikson’s basement.

Besides, I wasn’t all that eager to live in Saint Anthony. Winters here in Bridgewater were moderate, for the most part. Sure, we got snow, but that sometimes melted by February—or like a rare instance a few years ago, didn’t come at all.

Winters up near Saint Anthony? They could start before Halloween and lasted through May. I liked snow—but I didn’t like it that much.

While I loved my parents, their house was going to be a lot smaller than the three-bedroom apartment I’d grown up in.

One bedroom, to be exact.

The two of them had one room.

Mom insisted it would be cozier—but I knew it was a matter of cost. Building supplies were pricey.

Which was totally fine. Who needed a huge house anyway?

The fact was, I was not about to move all the way into Saint Anthony’s snowy land and sleep on my parent’s couch for the rest of my life.

I didn’t care how close to Island Park and West Yellowstone the town was.

That was one of the reasons Dad wanted to go there. He’d said he couldn’t build in Island Park.

“Too expensive,” he’d said.

“But Saint Anthony’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away. We’ll rent cabins anytime we like,” Mom had said.

“And fish on Henry’s Lake,” Dad had added. “Don’t forget Henry’s.”

Mom had nodded. “How can anyone forget Henry’s?”

I shook away the memory with a sad smile and found my parents eyeing me with… What was it? Worry?