A Rancher for Christmas

A Family for Christmas

Raised on the run, free-spirited Breezy Hernandez has never stayed in one place too long. But now that she has joint custody of her late brother’s twin daughters, she’s determined to give them a stable home. Even if it means cooperating with the twins’ bossy uncle. Texas rancher Jake Martin learned the hard way that women can’t be trusted. But as he and Breezy care for the orphaned girls, Jake begins to open his heart. Is Breezy ready to put down roots in Martin’s Crossing, or will she run from the one thing she’s always wanted: a family?

Martin’s Crossing: In this small Texas town, every heart finds a home

When was the last time anyone had looked out for Breezy?

“Are you okay?”

He kneeled next to her, bending those long legs and folding his arms over his knees. He pushed back the black cowboy hat and peered at her. He looked concerned.

She took a breath and waited.

“Of course I am.” Breezy made sure to smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jake grinned. “Well, you were almost toast out there with that bull.”

“I am glad you came along when you did.”

“Me, too,” he replied. His voice was soft, like wind through the trees, and it undid her a tiny bit. “Here, you’re probably cold.” He slipped off his jacket and eased it around her shoulders. “This should help.”

Words failed her. Yes, the jacket helped.

Or did it?

It smelled of Jake Martin, like pine, mountains in the fall and cold winter air. She wanted to bury her nose in the collar and inhale his scent. At the same time she wanted to tell him she didn’t need his jacket or the unexpected emotions it stirred in her.

BRENDA MINTON

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters who refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006 her dream to write for Love Inspired Books came true. Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her website, www.brendaminton.net.

A Rancher for Christmas

Brenda Minton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

— Philippians 4:11

Dedicated to my sweet ladies at the residential care facility. Your prayers, hugs and love have meant so much to me. Lola, this one is for you.

And to friends who are always just a phone call away. Pam, Lori, Tracie, Steph and Shirlee.

Melissa Endlich, as always, thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Breezy Hernandez stood in front of the massive wood door on the front porch of her brother’s Texas Hill Country home. When she’d met Lawton Brooks two months ago, he had filled in the missing pieces of her life.

Now he was gone. In one tragic accident Lawton, his wife and his mother had been taken. The lawyer in Austin had given her this address. He’d told her in Martin’s Crossing she would find Jake Martin, executor of the estate.

She knocked on the door and then looked out at the windblown fields dotted with small trees, waiting for someone to answer. No one did. There was no muffled call for her to come in, or footsteps hurrying to answer the door. She leaned her forehead against the rough wood, her hand dropping to her side. Her heart ached.

After a few minutes she wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and reached for the handle. It wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open, hesitating briefly before stepping inside. Why should she hesitate? Nothing would change the reality that Lawton and his wife had been killed in a plane crash two weeks ago. She’d missed the opportunity to see him again. She’d missed the funeral and the chance to say goodbye.

But she could be there for his girls.

As she stepped inside she flipped a switch, flooding the stone-tiled foyer in soft amber light. The entryway led to a massive living room with stone flooring, textured walls in earthy tan and a stone fireplace flanked by brown leather furniture.

Enveloped by silence and the cool, unheated air, she stood in the center of the room. There were signs of life, as if the people who had lived here had just stepped out. There were magazines on the coffee table, a pair of slippers next to a chair. Toys spilled from a basket pushed against the wall. Her throat tightened, aching deep down the way grief does.