LITMIR.BIZ

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime, Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her books. A reviewer once wrote, “Leonard had a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance! You can visit her at www.tinaleonard.com.

      To my sister, Kimmie, who is simply my star,

       and Lisa and Dean-O, my best friends,

       and Kathleen Scheibling, who believes in my work,

       and my gal pals, who are always there for me.

      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

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      What doesn’t kill a man makes him stronger

      —Josiah Morgan’s parting advice to his teenage sons when they walked out of his life.

      The four Morgan brothers shared an unspoken belief, if nothing else: stubbornness equaled strength. A man who didn’t have “stubborn” etched into his bones hadn’t yet grown into big boots.

      Some people used the word jackasses to describe the family of four brothers, but the Morgans preferred to think of themselves as independent loners. It was common for them to be approached by women who wanted to relieve their “loneliness.” The Morgans had no problem breaking with their routine for beautiful women bent on their relief.

      Fortunately, most people in Union Junction, Texas, understood that a solitary way of life was a good thing, if it was lived by choice. The Morgan brothers were moving to the area not by choice, but for two different reasons. The first was continued solitude, which had been confirmed by some family acquaintances, the Jeffersons. Men after their own heart, the Jeffersons weren’t loners, but they hadn’t exactly been hanging out in bars every night sobbing about their sad lives before they’d all found the religion of love. They appreciated the need to be left the hell alone.

      Yet the need for peace and quiet was just a cover for the real reason Gabriel Morgan had come home. This was about money. He stared at the two-story sprawling farmhouse set amongst native pecan trees and shouldered by farmland. For this house, this land, the Morgans were called to relocate to the Morgan Ranch near Union Junction. The first thing the brothers had all agreed on in years was that none of them was too happy about finding themselves the keeper of a large ranch. Five thousand acres as well as livestock—what the hell were they supposed to do with it? This was Pop’s place. Light-footed Pop and his far-flung dreams, buying houses and land like he was buying up parts of earth to keep him alive and vital.

      Pop was the true jackass.

      Selling the ranch had been the first thing on Gabriel’s mind, and he was pretty certain his brothers had the same idea. But no, Pop was too wily for that. Knowing full well his four sons weren’t close, he’d come up with a brilliant plan to stick them all under one roof on acres and acres of loneliness where no one could witness the fireworks.

      Pop was in Europe right now, in a new stone castle he’d bought in Pzenas, no doubt laughing his ass off at what he’d wrought. Oh, he couldn’t buy just any old French countryside farmhouse—he’d bought an eighteen hundred Templar’s commandery for a cool four million. It wasn’t in the best of shape but just his style, he’d told his sons in the letters they’d each received outlining his wishes. Three floors, ten bedrooms, eight baths, plenty of room should they all ever decide to visit. It even had its own chapel, and he’d be in that chapel praying for them every day.

      Gabriel doubted the prayers would help. Pop would be praying for family harmony, and truthfully, some growth in the family tree, some tiny feet to run on the floors of the stone castle, sweet angelic voices to learn how to say Grandpop in French. Grand-père.

      Like hell. Family expansion wasn’t on Gabriel’s mind. He was looking for peace and quiet in this rural town, and he was going to get it. He’d live in the house just as his father had decreed, for the year he’d

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