Stroke of Fortune. Christine Rimmer

      CLUB TIMES

      For Members’ Eyes Only

      Cute Baby Abandoned on the Ninth Tee!

      You heard right, members. While those sinfully handsome bachelors were taking a whack at a golf ball on the ninth tee, they heard a peculiar sound for a Sunday morning on the course—definitely not the kind of feminine squeals these gents are used to. These sounds came from a darling little baby girl with big blue eyes, curly black hair—not even a year old—and a note attached for her daddy. I anticipate your question already: who’s the father of this sweet thing? And why did Flynt Carson feel that he needed to take responsibility? Is there something we don’t know?

      Not that it’s any of our business, but does anyone know where member extraordinaire Luke Callaghan is? The Mission Creek social circles are sure missing him, as he’s supplied us with tales of sin that made even Mrs. Delarue’s ears catch on fire (you know it’s true, Nadine). We like to think Luke is out somewhere globe-trotting and doing what billionaire playboys were born to do.

      Meanwhile, Mrs. McKenzie wants to remind us to visit her dress shop, Mission Creek Creations, for the June summer sale. There’s a new maternity section for those of you out there who are in the maternal way. And be sure to check out the new citrus-almond oil pedicure treatment at Body Perfect. It’s heaven on earth….

      Enjoy, and remember, make your best stop of the day right here at the Lone Star Country Club!

      About the Author

      CHRISTINE RIMMER

      “Famed for her deliciously different characters, Ms. Rimmer keeps the…love sizzling hot.”

      —Romantic Times

      A reader favorite whose books consistently appear on the USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists, Christine Rimmer has writen nearly forty books for Silhouette Books. Her stories have been nominated for numerous Awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA^® Award and the Romantic Times Series Storyteller of the Year award.

      “Writing Stroke of Fortune was such a grand experience,” Christine tells us. “It all starts with four proud Texans and a baby—on the links at the Lone Star Country Club. From there, the story has more twists and turns than a sidewinder. I loved working with the other authors in the series, creating the fabulous Lone Star Country Club, pooling our ideas to make the Texas town of Mission Creek come alive.”

      Stroke of Fortune

      Christine Rimmer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Welcome to the

      Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are everything!

      When a Sunday-morning foursome of eligible bachelors finds an abandoned baby girl on the ninth tee, pandemonium breaks loose at Mission Creek’s exclusive country club….

      Flynt Carson: When brooding millionaire rancher Flynt Carson decides to take on temporary guardianship of baby Lena, can he right the wrongs of his anguished past…and mend his broken heart?

      Josie Lavender: Being this infant’s doting nanny is a cinch compared to sharing close quarters with her gruff—and undeniably gorgeous—boss. Flynt Carson is just the kind of man she has sworn to avoid. But how can Josie resist the searing passion he awakens in her innocent soul?

      The Carson/Wainwright Feud: For over seven decades, the bitter feud between the Carson and the Wainwright clans has ripped through Mission Creek. Will all-out war break out if a clandestine tryst is unveiled?

      Daisy Parker: The stakes are higher than ever when she infiltrates the LSCC to bring down the mob. Can “Daisy” pull this undercover mission off…or will she lose the greatest gamble of her life?

      For the ones who never give up.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Epilogue

      One

      The two golf carts reached the ninth tee at a little after eight that Sunday morning in late May. Tyler Murdoch and Spence Harrison rode in the first cart. Flynt Carson and Dr. Michael O’Day, the blind fourth they’d picked up at the clubhouse when Luke Callaghan didn’t show, took up the rear.

      It was one of those rare perfect mornings, the temperature in the seventies, the sky a big blue bowl, a wispy cloud or two drifting around up there. Somewhere in the trees overhead, a couple of doves cooed at each other.

      When the men emerged from under the cover of the oaks, the fairway, still glistening a little from its early-morning watering, was so richly green it hardly seemed real. A deep, true green, Flynt Carson thought. Like Josie’s eyes…

      Flynt swore under his breath. He’d been vowing for nearly a year that he’d stop thinking about her. Still, her name always found some way to come creeping into his mind.

      “What did you say?” Michael O’Day pulled their cart to a stop on the trail right behind Spence and Tyler. “I think I caught the meaning, but I missed the exact words.” He slanted Flynt a knowing grin.

      Flynt ordered his mind to get back where it belonged—on his game. “Just shaking my head over that last hole. If I’d come out of the sand a little better, I could have parred it. No doubt about it, my sand wedge needs work.”

      Michael chuckled. “Hey, at least you—”

      And right then, Flynt heard the kind of sound a man shouldn’t hear on the golf course. He put up a hand, though Michael had already fallen silent.

      The two in the front cart must have heard it, too. They were turning to look for the source as it came again: a fussy little cry.

      “Over there,” Spence said. He pointed toward the thick hedge that partially masked a groundskeeper’s shed about thirty yards from them.

      A frown etched a crease between Michael’s black eyebrows. “Sounds like a—”

      Spence was already out of the lead cart. “Damn it, I don’t believe it.”

      Neither did Flynt. He blinked. And he looked again.

      But it was still there: a baby carrier, the kind that doubles as a car seat, tucked in close to the hedge. And in the car seat—wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket, waving tiny fists and starting to wail—was a baby.

      A