The Marriage Clause is one of the two longest novels I have written at almost 500 pages. It has several tropes...
She inherited a ranch. He needed a wife. Their arrangement was supposed to be temporary—until love rewrote the rules.
When photographer Delilah Taylor returns to Wind River Station, Wyoming for her grandmother's funeral, she expects a quick trip to settle the estate and escape back to her city life. Instead, she discovers a shocking stipulation in her inheritance: marry a member of the Holloway family within one year, or lose her grandmother's beloved property forever.
Garrett Holloway is drowning. Between raising his seven-year-old daughter Sunny alone, managing a failing cattle ranch, and nursing old rodeo injuries, he's barely keeping his head above water. When Delilah proposes a marriage of convenience—her inheritance for his financial stability—desperation makes him agree to the one-year arrangement.
It is available on Amazon and as usual, it's in Kindle Unlimited. Click here to purchase or read free. Here is the first chapter as published:
Chapter 1
A Return Home
The funeral parlor smelled of lilies and regret, two scents that would forever remind Delilah Mae Taylor of the day she buried the last person who'd ever loved her unconditionally. She stood at the back of the small chapel, watching neighbors and friends file past her grandmother's casket, each offering condolences that felt hollow against the ache in her chest.
“She was so proud of your success, dear,” Mrs. Whitmore whispered, squeezing Delilah's gloved hand. “Always showing off those magazine articles about your photography exhibitions.”
Delilah managed a smile that felt like cracked glass. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
But it didn't, not really. What would have meant everything was having one more conversation with Grandma Rose, one more chance to apologize for staying away so long, for letting pride and old wounds keep her from the woman who'd raised her after her parents died. Now all she had were regrets and a inheritance she wasn't sure she wanted.
The service passed in a blur of hymns and memories shared by people who'd known Rose Taylor far better than her own granddaughter had these past ten years. Delilah listened to stories about her grandmother's volunteer work at the community center, her prize-winning roses, her fierce loyalty to friends and neighbors. Each anecdote was another reminder of how much life she'd missed by staying away.
When the last mourner had paid their respects and the funeral director began making arrangements for the burial, Delilah found herself standing alone beside the casket. Her grandmother looked peaceful, hands folded over the blue dress she'd worn to church every Sunday for as long as Delilah could remember.
“I'm sorry, Grandma,” she whispered, her voice breaking despite her efforts to maintain composure. “I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I let him drive me away from you too.”
The silence that answered her was deafening.
The graveside service was mercifully brief. Wind River Station's small cemetery sat on a hill overlooking the valley, surrounded by the endless Wyoming landscape that had once felt like home and now seemed foreign after years of city living. Delilah watched the casket being lowered into the ground next to her grandfather's grave, the finality of it descended on her.
She was truly alone now.
After the last handful of dirt had been thrown and the final prayer spoken, the mourners began to disperse. Several people approached Delilah with invitations to join them at the community center for the traditional post-funeral meal, but she politely declined. She wasn't ready to make small talk about her life in Denver or answer questions about how long she planned to stay.
Besides, she had an appointment at Three Rivers Bank that she couldn't postpone any longer.
The bank sat on Main Street between Murphy's Hardware and the post office, its brick facade unchanged since her childhood. Delilah parked her rental car—a sleek sedan that looked absurdly out of place among the pickup trucks and ranch vehicles—and checked her reflection in the side mirror. Her black suit was perfectly tailored, her makeup flawless despite the emotional morning, her hair pulled back in a sophisticated chignon that screamed urban professional.
She'd dressed carefully for this meeting, choosing armor that would remind everyone—including herself—that she was no longer the heartbroken seventeen-year-old who'd fled this town with tears streaming down her face. She was Delilah Taylor, successful photographer, independent woman, someone who'd built a life that didn't depend on anyone else's promises.
The bank's interior was exactly as she remembered: polished wood floors, teller windows with brass fixtures, and the faint smell of old paper and leather. The receptionist, a young woman Delilah didn't recognize, directed her to a conference room where Hazel Delaney was waiting with a stack of legal documents and a sympathetic smile.
“Delilah, honey,” Hazel said, rising to embrace her. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was a remarkable woman.”
“Thank you. She really was.” Delilah accepted the hug, remembering Hazel as a sharp-minded lawyer who'd handled legal matters for half the families in Wind River Station. She was probably in her fifties now, her auburn hair showing threads of silver, but her green eyes were as keen as ever.
They settled at the polished conference table, and Hazel opened the file containing Rose Taylor's last will and testament. “I know this is difficult timing, but there are some matters that require immediate attention.”
Delilah nodded, pulling out a leather portfolio and pen. “I understand. I've already spoken with my grandmother's financial advisor about her accounts, and I have a meeting with a real estate agent tomorrow to discuss putting the house on the market.”
“Actually,” Hazel said carefully, “that's what we need to discuss. The house and property can't be sold. Not yet, anyway.”
Something cold settled in Delilah's stomach. “What do you mean?”
Hazel pulled out a thick document and turned to a page marked with yellow sticky notes. “Your grandmother's will contains some... unusual provisions regarding the Willow Ridge Property. Provisions that were put in place by your great-great-grandmother and have been maintained through every generation since.”
“What kind of provisions?”
“A marriage clause.” Hazel's voice was gentle but firm. “The property can only be inherited by a Taylor family member who marries into the Holloway family within one year of the previous owner's death. If that condition isn't met, the property reverts to the Holloway family trust.”
The words hit Delilah like a slap. “That's ridiculous. Marriage clauses like that aren't legally enforceable anymore.”
“Actually, they are in Wyoming, under certain circumstances. This particular clause was written into the original land grant and has been upheld by the courts twice in the past century. Your grandmother could have challenged it, but she chose not to. In fact, she reinforced it in her own will.”
Delilah stared at the legal document, the words blurring as her mind raced. “So you're telling me that in order to inherit my own family's property, I have to marry a Holloway?”
“That's correct. And given that there's only one unmarried Holloway of appropriate age...” Hazel trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
“Garrett.” His name tasted like ashes in her mouth.
“I'm afraid so. Garrett Wade Holloway is the only member of the family who could fulfill the terms of the clause.”
Delilah pushed back from the table, her carefully constructed composure cracking. “This is insane. My grandmother knew what happened between Garrett and me. She knew why I left. How could she do this?”
Hazel's expression softened with understanding. “I think she hoped you two might find your way back to each other. She never stopped believing that what you had was real.”
“What we had was a teenage fantasy that ended badly.” Delilah's voice was sharp with old pain. “Garrett made it very clear ten years ago that I was nothing more than a convenient distraction. A childhood friend he outgrew.”
“People change, honey. Maybe—”
“No.” Delilah stood abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked Main Street. “I won't do it. I won't let my grandmother manipulate me from the grave, and I certainly won't humiliate myself by begging Garrett Holloway for anything.”
“What about the property? It's been in your family for five generations.”
The question hit harder than Delilah wanted to admit. Willow Ridge Property wasn't just land—it was legacy. The house where her grandmother had been born, where Delilah had spent the happiest years of her childhood, where generations of Taylor women had lived and loved and raised their families. The thought of losing it to the Holloways, of letting it slip away because of her pride, made her stomach clench with something that felt suspiciously like grief.
But the thought of facing Garrett again, of putting herself in a position where he could reject her twice, was almost unbearable.
“How much time do I have?” she asked finally.
“Eleven months and three weeks. The clock started ticking the day your grandmother passed.”
Delilah closed her eyes, trying to process the impossible situation her grandmother had created. Rose Taylor had always been a romantic, a woman who believed in true love and second chances and the power of fate to bring people together. She'd also been stubborn as a mule when she set her mind to something.
“Has Garrett been informed about the clause?”
“Not yet. I wanted to speak with you first, given the... complicated history between your families.”
Complicated. That was one way to put it. Another way would be to call it a complete disaster that had left Delilah's heart in pieces and her faith in love permanently shattered.
She turned back to face Hazel, her mind already working through the practical implications. “What happens if I refuse? If I just walk away and let the property revert to the Holloways?”
“Then you lose everything. The house, the land, even the mineral rights your great-grandfather negotiated. It all goes to them.”
The unfairness of it burned in her chest. “And if I approach Garrett and he refuses?”
“Same result. The clause requires mutual agreement to a legal marriage. If either party declines, the property transfers automatically.”
Delilah sank back into her chair, her head spinning with the magnitude of what her grandmother had done. It was emotional blackmail, pure and simple. Rose Taylor had known exactly what buttons to push, exactly how to force her granddaughter into a situation she'd spent ten years avoiding.
“I need to see the property,” she said finally. “I need to walk through the house and think about this.”
Hazel nodded, pulling a set of keys from her purse. “Of course. Take all the time you need. But Delilah... you should know that the Holloway ranch is in serious financial trouble. Garrett's been struggling since his rodeo career ended, and from what I hear, he's facing foreclosure within the next few months.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it means he might be more open to the arrangement than you think. The marriage clause would give him access to the Willow Ridge Property, which could save his ranch. It might be a mutually beneficial situation.”
Mutually beneficial. As if marriage could ever be reduced to a business transaction, as if the history between her and Garrett could be set aside for the sake of financial convenience.
But even as the thought disgusted her, another part of her mind was already calculating possibilities. If Garrett was desperate enough, if his back was truly against the wall, he might agree to a temporary arrangement. A marriage in name only, just long enough to satisfy the legal requirements and secure both their inheritances. They could draw up contracts, establish boundaries, keep it purely business.
The idea made her feel sick, but it also offered a way forward that didn't involve losing her family's legacy or humiliating herself by begging for his love.
“I'll need copies of all the relevant documents,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “And I'll need contact information for Garrett.”
“Are you sure about this? Once you approach him, there's no taking it back. The whole town will know within hours.”
Delilah thought about the carved oak tree that stood between the two properties, about the promises that had been made and broken beneath its branches. She thought about her grandmother's house sitting empty, about generations of Taylor women who'd fought to keep their land and their independence.
Most of all, she thought about the seventeen-year-old girl who'd believed in forever and had her heart shattered for her faith. That girl deserved justice, even if it came in the form of a cold business arrangement with the man who'd destroyed her capacity for trust.
“I'm sure,” she said, surprised by the steel in her own voice. “If Garrett Holloway wants to play games with people's lives, then he's about to learn that I'm no longer the naive little girl he left behind. I've spent ten years building a life without him, and I'm not about to let my grandmother's romantic fantasies destroy everything I've worked for.”
Hazel gathered the documents, her expression troubled. “Just... be careful, honey. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But don't let that anger make you do something you'll regret.”
“The only thing I regret is staying away so long that I couldn't talk my grandmother out of this insanity.” Delilah stood, smoothing her skirt with hands that were steadier than she felt. “But since I can't change what she's done, I'll have to work within the system she created.”
She left the bank with a briefcase full of legal documents and a heart full of cold determination. The afternoon air was crisp with the promise of winter, carrying the familiar scents of hay and cattle and wide-open spaces that had once meant home. Now they just reminded her of everything she'd lost and everything she stood to lose again.
The drive to Willow Ridge Property took fifteen minutes through countryside that looked exactly as it had when she was seventeen. Rolling hills dotted with cattle, weathered fence posts connected by barbed wire, ranch houses set back from gravel roads like islands in an ocean of grass. It was beautiful in its stark simplicity, but it also felt like driving backward through time to a version of herself she'd worked hard to leave behind.
Her grandmother's house sat at the end of a long driveway lined with cottonwood trees, their bare branches reaching toward the gray November sky. The two-story farmhouse was painted white with blue shutters, surrounded by gardens that even in their winter dormancy showed signs of loving care. A wraparound porch held the swing where she and her grandmother had spent countless summer evenings, talking about everything and nothing while the sun set over the valley.
Delilah sat in her car for a long moment, gathering the courage to go inside. The house looked smaller than she remembered, more fragile somehow, as if her grandmother's death had already begun the process of decay that claimed all abandoned places.
But it wasn't abandoned, she reminded herself. Not yet. Not if she could find a way to save it.
The front door key turned easily in the lock, and she stepped into the entryway that had welcomed her home for so many years. The house smelled like her grandmother's lavender sachets and the lemon oil she'd used to polish the antique furniture. Family photographs lined the hallway walls—pictures of Taylor women stretching back five generations, all of them strong-faced and determined, all of them fighters who'd carved lives out of this harsh but beautiful land.
Delilah walked through the rooms slowly, touching familiar objects and remembering happier times. Her grandmother's sewing basket still sat beside her favorite chair, a half-finished quilt folded neatly inside. The kitchen held the same yellow curtains and ceramic roosters that had been there since Delilah's childhood. Everything was exactly as she remembered, preserved like a museum of her own past.
In her grandmother's bedroom, she found the jewelry box that had fascinated her as a child. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was the silver locket that had belonged to her great-grandmother, the woman who'd first established the marriage clause. Delilah held it up to the light, studying the intricate engraving and wondering what had motivated a woman she'd never met to tie her family's future to the Holloways.
Had it been love? Strategy? Some combination of both?
The locket felt warm in her palm, as if it held the accumulated hopes and dreams of all the Taylor women who'd worn it before her. For a moment, she could almost hear her grandmother's voice, gentle but firm: “Sometimes, honey, the heart knows things the mind hasn't figured out yet.”
But Delilah's heart had been wrong before. Catastrophically, humiliatingly wrong. She couldn't afford to trust it again, especially not with Garrett Holloway.
She slipped the locket into her purse and continued her exploration of the house, making mental notes about what would need to be done to maintain the property. The roof looked sound, but the gutters needed cleaning. The hardwood floors were beautiful but would require refinishing. The kitchen appliances were outdated but functional.
It was a house that had been loved, cared for by generations of women who'd understood that home was something worth fighting for. The thought of losing it, of letting it pass to the Holloways because of her own pride and fear, made her chest tight with something that felt like panic.
By the time she'd finished her tour, the sun was setting over the valley, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that no city sunset could match. She stood on the front porch, looking out over land that had been in her family since before Wyoming was even a state, and made her decision.
She would approach Garrett. Not as the heartbroken girl he'd rejected, but as a successful woman with a business proposition. She would offer him a marriage of convenience—temporary, practical, mutually beneficial. They would save their respective properties, satisfy the legal requirements, and then go their separate ways with their dignity intact.
It was a good plan. A sensible plan. A plan that had absolutely nothing to do with the part of her that still wondered what it would feel like to see him again, to look into those dark eyes that had once promised her forever.
That part of her was a liability she couldn't afford. She'd learned to live without Garrett Holloway once, and she could do it again. But first, she had to face him.
The thought terrified and exhilarated her in equal measure.
Tomorrow, she would drive to Crosswind Ranch and confront the man who'd broken her heart. She would offer him a deal that could save them both, and she would do it without letting him see how much it cost her to stand in front of him again.
She was no longer seventeen and naive. She was thirty years old, successful, independent, and strong enough to handle whatever Garrett Holloway could throw at her.
At least, she hoped she was.
Because ready or not, it was time to find out if some promises could be renegotiated, even when they'd been carved in the living wood of an oak tree and sealed with a kiss that had tasted like forever.