âYou think this little boy is mine?â
Cole stared at the profile of the child asleep on his auntâs shoulder. âThatâs a pretty serious charge. Do you have some kind of proof?â
Tessa let out a sigh, âNone. But I have a DNA kit in my purse. And just to be clear, Iâm not accusing you of anything.â
He shook his head. âIf your sister didnât tell you about me, how did you get my name?â
âHer diary. I brought it along and Iâd be happy to show you the passage that put you at the top of my list. Later. After I get Joey in bed, maybe?â
Before he could answer, she said, âIf Iâve made a mistake, weâll leave in the morning. No hassle, I promise. Iâm not trying to pin Joeyâs paternity on anybody. I only want to do the right thing for my nephew. I know what itâs like to grow up without a father.â
Grow up without a father. Something he wouldnât wish on anybody â especially not a sweet kid like Joey who grabbed your heart with both fists and didnât let go.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a child, Debra wanted to be an artist. She saved her allowance to send away for a âLearn To Drawâ kit, but when her mother mistook Debâs artful rendition of a horse for a cow, Deb turned to her second love â writing.
Debraâs first published romance novel was released in 2000. Since her first sale, she has tackled many challenging, provocative subjects in her stories: blended families, ageing parents, the death of a spouse, catastrophic illness and divorce, child abduction, fertility issues and adoption. She was recently honoured as Romantic Times BOOKreviewsâ 2006 Series Storyteller of the Year.
Dear Reader,
I was born into a family of gamblers. My mother used to say that her father would have bet on whether or not the sun would come up the next dayâ¦if he could get the right odds.
When I was invited to participate in a series about a group of friends who get together for weekly poker games, I didnât hesitate to dust off my pack of cards and jump in. But I knew I needed a refresher course, so I turned to friends Dave and Sandra Meek â and the other players who make up their own kind of âWild Bunch.â Thanks for letting me leave a few dollars ahead. I also have many fond memories of my parents and their friends gathered around the kitchen table with stacks of red, white and blue plastic chips, the sound of cards being shuffled and the friendly razzing as fortunes rose and fell. I felt exactly the same when the âWild Bunchâ started to come to life. I love these guys, and, win or lose, theyâre there for each other.
The decision to set this series in a small town near San Antonio turned out to be most fortuitous for me, since that meant I could call upon friends Karen and Jim Hale for the inside scoop. Karen not only devoted several days to playing tour guide, but she made sure we ate authentic Tex-Mex and barbecue, Boracho beans and Shiner Bock â I canât wait to return. Karen also proved instrumental in helping me understand what went wrong in Coleâs real estate deal. Thanks again for the grand, Texas-size hospitality.
Debra
Romantic Times BOOKreviewsâ 2006 Series Storyteller of the Year
To my fellow TEXAS HOLD âEM authors â I knew from the start this wasnât a gamble, because youâre all the best!
And to Victoria â
for just the right hints at just the right time.
CHAPTER ONE
Thursday, November 29, 2007
âSMILE, SANTA.â
Cole tried. It wasnât easy with Sally Knutson on his knee and her three cats wreaking havoc on his costume. The gray one was tangled in the glossy white beard, batting at the lush strands. The calico perched on his shoulder had every needle-tipped claw hooked solidly through the red velvet, his undershirt and his flesh. The slightest movement on Coleâs part meant instant pain. The thirdâthe âshyâ oneâwas wedged between its ownerâs ample bosom and Coleâs two-pillow padding.
His mother hadnât said anything about hazard pay when she volunteered him to fill in for Ray Hardy, the man who truly was Santa to most of the citizens of River Bluff, Texas. A fixture at the Congressional Churchâs annual holiday bazaar and toy drive, Ray hadnât missed a nightâuntil he slipped in the shower that morning. Now the man was facing hip surgery.
âLook at the camera, Sugar Baby,â Sally cooed.
Cole assumed she was talking to the feline on his shoulder since Sally was his motherâs ageâand about forty pounds overweight, if his aching leg was any indication.
âAny time, Melody,â Cole urged, a bead of sweat threatening to turn into a rivulet down the side of his cheek. Their Hill Country weather had become oppressively muggy thanks to the tropical moisture out in the Gulf. It was almost December, and Cole was ready for some cooling. Especially if he was going to be stuck in a Santa suit for who knew how long.
âSorry,â the high school senior said, looking up so quickly her green felt hat nearly fell off. âThe battery is struggling to keep up. I should have had Dad bring the other rechargeables.â