Ben Having just completed my medical residency at age 30, I was eager to leave New York City for the West Coast. I couldn’t wait to receive my fat trust fund and be a doctor to the stars, living the high life in Hollywood. However, I was reminded that I’d made a promise to my grandmother to serve one year in a rural clinic. If I didn’t go, there’d be no trust fund. Plentywood, Montana, was a far cry from Hollywood, but going there was the only way to inherit a fortune. Can a city boy, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, survive one year in a town of a thousand people? A town named Plentywood? For thirty-million dollars, how hard could it be? Hunter As the Sheriff of the small town I grew up in, rural life was about family and taking care of one another. After my husband unexpectedly died, I was not doing a good job of taking care of myself, let alone my town. My life was shattered and I felt there was nothing to look forward to, sinking deeper into despair. At only 32, losing your childhood love is the last thing you think can happen in your young life. Convinced I’d had my one great love, I simply went through the paces of my solitary life. That was until a man from New York City arrived in town. The new doctor had our town buzzing with excitement. Who was this wealthy, third generation, son of the powerful Hawthorne family? And why was he in Plentywood?