LITMIR.BIZ

      Meet the Fortunes of Texas

      Hannah Cassidy: She never expected to be enamored with Parker Malone, the man who was trying to stop her mother’s upcoming nuptials to mogul Ryan Fortune. And although the daughter of the bride had no intention of changing her mom’s mind about marriage, she had every intention of changing Parker’s….

      Parker Malone: As a divorce lawyer, he didn’t believe in love and marriage. As a man, he couldn’t resist sweet Hannah’s charms. Still, the lovely wedding planner couldn’t convince Parker to surrender his heart…could she?

      Sophia Barnes Fortune: The soon-to-be ex-wife of billionaire Ryan Fortune was just weeks away from signing a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement. But she was having second thoughts about settling for such a paltry sum when what she really wanted was the entire Fortune empire.

      Victoria Fortune: A woman in danger, she found shelter in the arms of a handsome bodyguard. Could she trust him with her heart?

      For Melissa Jeglinski

       I was your first author at Silhouette and you were my first editor there. This is our twentieth book together, and I’m still thanking my lucky stars for your insight, skill, understanding and humor.

      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

      Epilogue

      One

      Hannah Cassidy hitched the strap of her big leather purse onto her shoulder and hurried down the sidewalk toward her friend’s restaurant. The traffic on the street was heavy; the honking horns, hiss of brakes, and the pounding of a teenager’s car stereo were typical for a late Saturday afternoon in downtown San Antonio. Hannah’s jacket clung to her back and a sheen of perspiration dampened her forehead. She didn’t mind the heat. It was July, and like her father used to say, the only thing hotter than July in San Antonio was August.

      She’d just come from a former classmate’s bridal shower, and she had to admit she was still smarting a little. All any of her friends talked about these days was settling down and biological clocks. She was only twenty-seven. What was the hurry? Oh, she’d grown adept at smiling demurely when her friends offered advice concerning her single status, but even she’d had to stretch to find her smile when she’d opened the consolation prize this afternoon. They’d thought it was hilarious.

      Hannah hadn’t bothered defending the stand she’d taken when it came to settling for less than honest love. Couldn’t they see that she liked her life? Her business, The Perfect Occasion, was challenging and rewarding and was even starting to show a profit. Her mother and brother were happy, and lately she’d felt a strange sense of anticipation, as if excitement was just around the corner.

      So what if she spent more Saturday nights working than she spent dating? She was good at what she did, and she was earning a reputation for her ability to dream up wonderful, unusual themes for everything from birthday and retirement parties to graduations and weddings. Traditional weddings would always be in style, but lately she’d seen a trend toward weddings with a theme. Her newest client wanted a mobster-style wedding and Hannah wanted to talk to her closest friend about reserving The Pink Flamingo for the evening of the big event.

      She ducked around the building that housed Adrienne’s restaurant, and slipped through a bright-pink side door. The air inside the small, trendy restaurant was decidedly cooler, but the pace was no less hectic than it had been on the street out front. Waiters and waitresses in black trousers and fuchsia-colored shirts bustled from the kitchen to the dining room, heavy trays balanced high on their hands.

      Hannah’s best friend, Adrienne Blakely, was nowhere in sight, not in her usual place behind the dais in the lobby, or in the dining room, or in the office near the back door. Hannah poked her head inside the kitchen last. The chef and his assistant, a spiky-haired, forty-year-old woman named Desiree who was dicing vegetables, glanced up at the same time.

      “Have either of you seen Adrienne?” Hannah asked.

      Gerard raised his eyes expressively, but it was the woman brandishing the knife who said, “Last I knew, she was sweet-talking a customer who burned her tongue on Gerard’s soup.”

      “How many times must I tell you it’s called fricassee?”

      “Freakin’ whatever,” Desiree insisted. “I’m telling you, one of these days somebody’s gonna figure out how to sue God for making the sky blue.”

      A waitress bustled in with another order. “Is that true? Somebody’s suing God Almighty?”

      Hannah laughed out loud. She’d never been able to figure out where Adrienne found her employees. As unusual as The Pink Flamingo itself, they never failed to make Hannah smile.

      Leaving

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