McKettricks of Texas: Garrett. Linda Miller Lael

       Praise for the novels of

       LINDA LAEL

       MILLER

      ‘Linda Lael Miller creates vibrant characters and stories

      I defy you to forget.’

      Debbie Macomber

      ‘As hot as the noontime desert.’

      Publishers Weekly on The Rustler

      ‘This story creates lasting memories of soul-searing redemption and the belief in goodness and hope.’

      RT Book Reviews on The Rustler

      ‘Miller’s prose is smart, and her tough Eastwoodian cowboy cuts a sharp, unexpectedly funny figure in a classroom full of rambunctious frontier kids.’

      Publishers Weekly on The Man from Stone Creek

      ‘[Miller] paints a brilliant portrait of the good, the bad and the ugly, the lost and the lonely, and the power of love to bring light into the darkest of souls. This is western romance at its finest.’

      RT Book Reviews on The Man from Stone Creek

      ‘Sweet, homespun, and touched with angelic Christmas magic, this holiday romance reprises characters from Miller’s popular McKettrick series and is a perfect stocking-stuffer for her fans.’

      Library Journal on A McKettrick Christmas

      ‘An engrossing, contemporary western romance …’

      Publishers Weekly on McKettrick’s Pride (starred review)

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to the second of three books starring a brand-new group of modern-day McKettrick men. Readers who have embraced the irrepressible, larger-than-life McKettrick clan as their own won’t want to miss the stories of Tate, Garrett and Austin—three Texas-bred brothers who meet their matches in the Remington sisters. Political troubleshooter Garrett McKettrick and drama teacher Julie Remington are as different as two people can be … but opposites have a way of attracting in Blue River, Texas, and when fate brings their families together, the sparks begin to fly.

      I also wanted to write today to tell you about a special group of people with whom I’ve become involved in the past couple years. It is the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS), specifically their Pets for Life programme.

      The Pets for Life programme is one of the best ways to help your local shelter: that is, to help keep animals out of shelters in the first place. Something as basic as keeping a collar and tag on your pet all the time, so if he gets out and gets lost, he can be returned home. Be a responsible pet owner. Spay or neuter your pet. And don’t give up when things don’t go perfectly. If your dog digs in the yard, or your cat scratches the furniture, know that these are problems that can be addressed. You can find all the information about these—and many other common problems—at www.petsforlife.org.

      This campaign is focused on keeping pets and their people together for a lifetime.

      As many of you know, my own household includes two dogs, two cats and six horses, so this is a cause that is near and dear to my heart. I hope you’ll get involved along with me.

      With love,

      McKettricks of Texas:

      Garrett

      Linda Lael Miller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Also available from

      Linda Lael Miller and Mills & Boon

      McKettricks of Texas: Tate (in the Untameable collection with Diana Palmer)

      Don’t miss the further adventures of

      THE McKETTRICKS OF TEXAS

      McKettricks of Texas: Austin August 2012

      For Jeremy Hargis, with love.

      CHAPTER ONE

      GARRETT MCKETTRICK WANTED A HORSE under him—a fleet cow-pony like the ones bred to work the herds on the Silver Spur Ranch. But for now, anyway, the Porsche would have to do.

      Because of the hour—it was a little after 3:00 a.m.—Garrett had that particular stretch of Texas highway all to himself. The moon and stars cast silvery shadows through the open sunroof and shimmered on the rolled-up sleeves of his white dress shirt, while a country oldie, with lots of twang, pounded from the sound system. Everything in him—from the nuclei of his cells outward—vibrated to the beat.

      He’d left the tuxedo jacket, the cummerbund, the tie, the fancy cuff links, back in Austin—right along with one or two of his most cherished illusions.

      The party was definitely over—for him, anyhow.

      He should have seen it coming—or at least listened to people who did see it coming, specifically his brothers, Tate and Austin. They’d done their best to warn him.

      Senator Morgan Cox, they’d said, in so many words and in their different ways, wasn’t what he seemed.

      Against his will, Garrett’s mind looped back a few hours, and even as he sped along that straight, dark ribbon of road, another part of him relived the shock in excruciating detail.

      Cox had always presented himself as a family man, in public and private. A corner of each of his hand-carved antique desks in both the Austin and Washington offices supported a small forest of framed photos—himself and Nan on their wedding day, himself and Nan and the first crop of kids, himself and Nan and more kids, some of whom were adopted and had special needs. Altogether, there were nine Cox offspring.

      The dogs—several generations of golden retrievers, all rescued, of course—were pictured as well.

      That night, with no warning at all, Garrett’s longtime boss and mentor had arrived at an important fundraiser, held in a glittering hotel ballroom, but not with Nan on his arm—elegant, articulate, wholesome Nan, with her own pedigree as a former Texas governor’s daughter. Oh, no. This powerful U.S. senator, a war hero, a man with what many people considered a straight shot at the White House, had instead escorted a classic bimbo, later identified as a twenty-two-year-old pole dancer who went by the unlikely name of Mandy Chante.

      Before God, his amazed supporters, the press and, worst of all, Nan, the senator proceeded to announce that he and Mandy were soul mates. Kindred spirits. They’d been lovers in a dozen other lifetimes, he rhapsodized. In short, Cox explained from the microphone on the dais—his lover hovering earnestly beside him in a long, form-fitting dress rippling with ice-blue sequins, which gave her the look of a mermaid with feet—he hoped everyone would understand.

      He had to follow his heart.

      If only the senator’s heart were the organ he was following, Garrett lamented silently.

      One of those freeze-frame silences followed, vast and uncomfortable, turning the whole assembly into a garden of stone statues while several hundred people tried to process what they’d just heard Cox say.

      Who was this guy, they were probably asking themselves, and what had he done with the Morgan Cox they all knew? Where, Garrett himself