Taming the Brooding Cattleman. Marion Lennox

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       THE LARKVILLE LEGACY

       A secret letter… two families changed for ever

      Welcome to the small town of Larkville, Texas, where the Calhoun family has been ranching for generations.

      Meanwhile, in New York, the Patterson family rules America’s highest echelons of society.

      Both families are totally unprepared for the news that they are linked by a shocking secret.

      For hidden on the Calhoun ranch is a letter that’s been lying unopened and unread—until now!

      Meet the two families in all eight books of this brand-new series:

      THE COWBOY COMES HOME

       by Patricia Thayer

      SLOW DANCE WITH THE SHERIFF

       by Nikki Logan

      TAMING THE BROODING CATTLEMAN

       by Marion Lennox

      THE RANCHER’S UNEXPECTED FAMILY

       by Myrna Mackenzie

      HIS LARKVILLE CINDERELLA

       by Melissa McClone

      THE SECRET THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

       by Lucy Gordon

      THE SOLDIER’S SWEETHEART

       by Soraya Lane

      THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY SOS

       by Susan Meier

       “Now, let me inside the house, show me where I can eat and sleep, and get out of my life.”

      She’d meant to stay icy. She’d meant to stay dignified. So much for intentions.

      Her last words were almost hysterical—a yell into the silence. No matter. Who cared what he thought? She flicked the trunk lever and stalked round to fetch her suitcase. Her foot hit a rain-filled pothole, she tripped and lurched—and the arrogant toe-rag caught her and held her.

      It was like being held in a vice. His hands held her with no room for argument. She was steadied, held still, propelled out of the puddle and set back.

      His hands held her arms a moment longer, making sure she was stable.

      She looked up, straight into his face.

      She saw power, strength and anger. But more. She saw pure, raw beauty.

      It was as much as she could do not to gasp.

      Lean, harsh, aquiline. Heathcliff, she thought, and Mr Darcy, and every smouldering cattleman she’d ever lusted after in the movies all rolled into one. The strength of him. The sheer, raw sexiness.

      He released her and she thought maybe she should lean against the car for a bit.

      It was just as well this place was a total disaster; this job was a total disaster. Staying anywhere near this guy would do her head in.

      About the Author

      MARION LENNOX is a country girl, born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on—mostly because the cows just weren’t interested in her stories! Married to a ‘very special doctor’, Marion writes for Mills & Boon^® Medical Romance™ and Mills & Boon^® Cherish™. (She used a different name for each category for a while—readers looking for her past romance titles should search for author Trisha David, as well). She’s now had more than seventy-five romance novels accepted for publication.

      In her non-writing life Marion cares for kids, cats, dogs, chooks and goldfish. She travels, she fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost). Having spun in circles for the first part of her life, she’s now stepped back from her ‘other’ career, which was teaching statistics at her local university. Finally she’s reprioritised her life, figured what’s important and discovered the joys of deep baths, romance and chocolate.

      Preferably all at the same time!

      Taming the

       Brooding

       Cattleman

      Marion Lennox

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      PROLOGUE

      HE’D failed.

      Jack Connor stood at his sister’s graveside and accepted how badly he’d broken his promise to his mother.

       ‘Take care of your sister.’

      He’d been eight years old when his mother walked away. Sophie had been six.

      What followed was a bleak, hard childhood, cramming schoolwork into his grandfather’s demands for farm labour, and caring for his sister in the times between. Finally he’d escaped his grandfather’s tyranny to the luxury of wages. From there he’d built a company from nothing. He’d had no choice. He’d been desperate for funds to provide the professional care Sophie so desperately needed.

      It hadn’t worked. Even though he’d made money, the care had come too late. For all that time he’d watched his sister self-destruct.

      Sophie’s social worker had come to the funeral. Nice of her. Her presence meant there’d been a whole three people in attendance. She’d looked into his grim face and she’d tried to ease his pain.

      ‘This was not your fault, Jack. Your mother wounded your sister when she walked out, but the ultimate responsibility was Sophie’s.’

      But he stared down at the grave and knew she was wrong. Sophie was dead and the ultimate responsibility was Jack’s. He hadn’t been enough.

      What now?

      Return to Sydney, to his IT company, to riches that had bought him nothing?

      He stared down at the rain-soaked roses he’d laid on his sister’s grave, and a memory wafted back. Sophie at his grandfather’s farm, on one of the occasions his grandfather had been so blind drunk they weren’t afraid of him. Sophie in what was left of his grandmother’s rose garden. Sophie pressing roses into storybooks. ‘We’ll keep them for ever.’

      Suddenly he found himself thinking of horses he hadn’t seen for years. His grandfather’s horses, his friends from childhood. They’d asked for nothing but food, shelter and exercise. When he’d been with the horses, he’d almost been happy.

      The farm was his now. His grandfather had died a year ago, but the demands of Sophie’s increased illness meant he hadn’t had time to go there. He guessed it’d be rundown. Even the brief legal contact he’d made had him sensing the manager his grandfather had employed was less than honest, but the bloodlines of his grandfather’s stockhorses should still be intact. Remnants of the farm’s awesome reputation remained.

      Could he bring it back to its former glory?

      Decision time.

      He stared down at the rain-washed grave, his thoughts bleak as death.

      If he was his grandfather, he thought, he’d hit something. Someone.

      He wasn’t his grandfather.

      But he didn’t want to return to Sydney, to a staff who treated him as he treated them, with remote courtesy.