Just Give In... (Harts of Texas, 3, Band 635) - Softcover

O'Reilly, Kathleen

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0373796390 ISBN 13: 9780373796397

Verlag: Harlequin Blaze, 2011

Inhaltsangabe

When you least expect it…

Ever feel like your life took a wrong turn somewhere? Brooke Hart is in the tiny town of Tin Cup—broke and with no place to stay. All she has is a fierce sense of independence. So when an ex-soldier named Jason Kincaid—a taciturn-but-gruffly-sexy local—offers her a job, Brooke can't say no… In fact, something about Jason makes Brooke's sex drive whisper, "Oh, yeah!"

The attraction between them is irresistible. So irresistible, in fact, that it doesn't take long before Brooke tempts Jason beyond the point of no return. But Jason isn't one to easily trust anyone. Can he give in to his craving…without giving up his heart?

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Kathleen O'Reilly is the author of the Downtown Press novel The Diva's Guide to Selling Your Soul. She is also the author of numerous contemporary love stories; her short story "Halo, Goodbye" appears in the New Year's Eve anthology In One Year and Out the Other, available from Downtown Press. She lives in New York with her husband and their two children. Visit her on the web at www.kathleenoreilly.com, or write her at P.O. Box 312, Nyack, NY 10960.

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Every family started with a house, a mother, a father and a passel of squabbling siblings. Brooke Hart had no father, two unsociable brothers who seemed deathly afraid of her and a 1987 Chevy Impala.

As far as families went, it wasn't much, but it was a thousand times better than before. Then there was the mysterious message from an estate lawyer in Tin Cup. They needed to "talk" was all that he said, and apparently lawyers in Texas didn't believe in answering machines and voicemail, because every time she tried to call, no one answered. In her head she had created all sorts of exciting possibilities, and journeyed cross country to see the lawyer, bond with her brothers and find a place to call home, all of which was exciting and expensive, which meant that right now, she was in desperate need of a job. Money was not as necessary as say, love, home and a fat, fluffy cat, but there were times when money was required. One, when you needed to eat, and two, when your three–year–old Shearling boots weren't cutting it anymore.

In New York, the boots had been cute and ordinary and seventy–five percent off at a thrift store. In the smoldering

September heat of Texas, she looked like a freak. An au courant freak, but a freak nonetheless.

As she peered into the grocery store window, she studied an older couple who were the stuff of her dreams. In Brooke Hart's completely sentimental opinion, the spry old codger behind the cash register could have been Every Grandpa Man. A woman shuffled back and forth between the front counter and the storeroom in back. Her cottony–gray hair was rolled up in a bun, just like in the movies. The cash register was a relic with clunky keys that Brooke's hands itched to touch. The wooden floor of the grocery was neat, but not neat enough, which was the prime reason she was currently here.

They looked warm, hospitable and in desperate need of young, able–bodied assistance.

The one advantage to living with Brooke's mother, Char–lene Hart, was that Brooke knew the three things to absolutely never do when searching for a job.

One. Do not show up drunk, or even a more socially acceptable tipsy. Future employers frowned on blowing .2 in a Breathalyzer.

Two. Do not show up late for an appointment. As Brooke had no appointment, this wasn't a problem.

And the last, but most important rule in job–hunting was to actually show up. Although Brooke believed that deep down her mother was a beautiful spirit with a generous nature and a joyous laugh, Charlene Hart was about as present in life as she was in death, which was to say, not a lot.

Frankly, being family–less sucked, which was why she had been so excited to track down her two brothers. Twenty–six years ago, a then–pregnant Charlene Hart had walked out on Frank Hart and their two young sons, Tyler and Austen. Seven months later, Brooke had been born in a homeless shelter in Oak Brook, Illinois. Charlene never spoke of Frank, or her sons. Charlene had rarely spoken of anything grounded in reality, and it wasn't until after she died that Brooke found an article about Tyler Hart on the internet. After feeling so alone for all her life, she had stared at the picture of her brother, with the same faraway look in his dark eyes, and the world felt a little less gray. She knew then. Over and over she had repeated her brother's name, and Brooke realized she wasn't family–less after all.

To better appeal to her brothers, she'd concocted the perfect life. Storybook mother, devoted stepfather, idyllic suburban residence, and a rented fiancée (two hundred bucks an hour, not cheap). But her brothers had clearly never read the Handbook on Quality Family Reunions, and although they'd been polite enough, their shields were up the entire time. If they found out the truth of Brooke's less than storybook existence? A disaster of cataclysmic proportions. Relatives never reacted well when poor relations with no place to call home showed up on their doorstep. They weren't inclined to "like you" or "respect you" or even "want to be around you." Oh, certainly, they might act polite and sympathetic, but homelessness was a definite black mark, so right now, she wasn't going to let them find out.

And then, when the time was right, Brooke would spring the truth on the boys, and work her way into her new family's good graces.

Her first step involved getting a job, paying her way, shouldering her own financial burdens. Second, find out what the lawyer wanted.

Slowly she sucked in a breath, bunching her sweater to hide the green patch beneath the right elbow. In New York, the mismatched patch looked artsy, chic–chic, but to two elderly citizens, it might seem—frivolous. Finally satisfied that she looked respectable, Brooke walked through the rickety screen door, catching it before it slammed shut.

The friendly old proprietor gave her a small–town–America smile, and Brooke responded in kind.

"I'm here about the job. I think I'm your girl. I'm energetic, motivated. I have an excellent memory, and my math skills are off the charts."

The man's jovial mouth dwindled. "We didn't advertise for help."

"Maybe not, but when opportunity knocks, I say, open the door and use a doorstop so that it can't close behind you."

Behind her, she heard the door creak open, as if the very fates were on her side. Her spirits rose because she knew that this small grocery story in Tin Cup, Texas, was fate. Emboldened, Brooke pressed on. "When I saw this adorable place, I knew it was my perfect opportunity. Why don't you give me a try?"

The old man yelled to the back: "Gladys! Did you advertise for help? I told you not to do that. I can handle the store." Then he turned his attention to Brooke. "She thinks I can't do a gall–darned thing anymore."

From behind her, an arm reached around, plunking a can of peas on the wooden counter. The proprietor glanced at the peas, avoided Brooke's eyes, and she knew the door of opportunity was slamming on her posterior. She could feel it.

Hastily she placed her own competent hand on the counter. "My brothers will vouch for me. Austen and Tyler. I'm one of the Harts," she announced. It was a line she had clung to like a good luck charm.

At the man's confused look, she chuckled at her own misstep, hoping he wouldn't notice the shakiness in her voice. "Dr. Tyler Hart and Austen Hart. They were raised here. I believe Austen is now a very respectable member of the community. Tyler is a world–famous surgeon."

She liked knowing her oldest brother was in the medical profession. Everybody loved doctors.

The man scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Wasn't that older boy locked up for cooking meth?"

Patiently Brooke shook her head. If the man messed up this often, she would be a boon to his establishment. "No, you must have him confused with someone else."

A discreet cough sounded from behind her, and once again the proprietor yelled to the back. "Gladys! Which one of the Hart boys ended up at the State Pen?"

Astounding. The man seemed intent on sullying her family's good reputation. Brooke rushed to correct him, but then Gladys appeared with four cartons of eggs stacked in her arms. "There's no need to yell, Henry. I'm not deaf," she said, and then gave Brooke a neighborly smile. "He thinks I'm ready to be put out to pasture." She noticed the can of peas. "This yours?"

"It's mine," interrupted the customer behind her.

Not wanting to seem pushy, Brooke smiled apologetically. Gladys placed the eggs on the counter and then peered at Brooke over silver spectacles. "What are you here...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Harlequin Blaze
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2011
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0373796390
• ISBN 13: 9780373796397
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 224
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: HarperCollins Publishers Ireland; enquiries@harpercollins.ie; ; Macken House 39/40 Mayor Street Upper; Dublin; D01 C9W8; Irland