A Ranger For The Holidays
A Christmas to RememberIn Little Horn, Texas, Amelia Klondike is known as the Queen of Christmas. Her generosity and sheer joy during the holidays is contagious—to everyone except Finn Brannigan. The attractive, wounded stranger doesn't know who he is or where he came from—and he isn't feeling merry at all. It isn't long before Amelia, her grandfather and their adorable dog begin to warm Finn's heart. But when Finn's memory starts to return, his past as a Texas Ranger—the one thing that might cause Amelia to withdraw from him—is revealed. And he worries that he may lose his chance for one perfect Western Christmas with the woman he can't bear to forget…
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A Christmas to Remember
In Little Horn, Texas, Amelia Klondike is known as the Queen of Christmas. Her generosity and sheer joy during the holidays is contagiousâto everyone except Finn Brannigan. The attractive, wounded stranger doesnât know who he is or where he came fromâand he isnât feeling merry at all. It isnât long before Amelia, her grandfather and their adorable dog begin to warm Finnâs heart. But when Finnâs memory starts to return, his past as a Texas Rangerâthe one thing that might cause Amelia to withdraw from himâis revealed. And he worries that he may lose his chance for one perfect Western Christmas with the woman he canât bear to forget...
âThatâs all you remember? Just your name?â
âAnd my age.â Tell her youâre a Ranger, the honorable side of him scolded the other part that foolishly refused to confess. It felt as if everything would slam back into place once tomorrow dawned, so would it be terrible to just keep this one night as the happy victory it was?
âFor a while there I was terrified it wouldnât come back. That Iâd end up one of those freak stories you read about in checkout counter tabloids.â
She laughed. âI canât imagine you up there with the celebrity tragedies and alien babies. Youâre far too normal.â
Normal? Nothing about him felt normal. The scary part was the constant sense that his normal wasnât anywhere near as nice as right now was, sitting out under the stars near a roaring fire hearing Christmas carols.
Finn waited for his unnamed aversion to all things Christmas to wash up over him. Why couldnât he grasp the big dark thing lurking just out of his reach?
* * *
Lone Star Cowboy League:
Bighearted ranchers in small-town Texas
A Reunion for the Rancher by Brenda Minton, October 2015
A Doctor for the Nanny by Leigh Bale, November 2015 A Ranger for the Holidays by Allie Pleiter, December 2015 A Family for the Soldier by Carolyne Aarsen, January 2016 A Daddy for Her Triplets by Deb Kastner, February 2016 A Baby for the Rancher by Margaret Daley, March 2016
ALLIE PLEITER, an award-winning author and RITA® Award finalist, writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her passion for knitting shows up in many of her books and all over her life. Entirely too fond of French macarons and lemon meringue pie, Allie spends her days writing books and avoiding housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a BS in speech from Northwestern University and lives near Chicago, Illinois.
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
âIsaiah 43:18â19
To Barb
Welcome to the family
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Allie Pleiter for her contribution to the Lone Star Cowboy League miniseries.
Contents
Pine trees donât wear gloves.
Amelia Klondike, like any sensible person on Godâs earth, knew that. She was out here in the woods to find pinecones for a Sunday school project, not accessories. She set down the last of the lemon bar and coffee sheâd brought for breakfastâAmelia didnât believe in sensible breakfasts, everâand picked up the glove from its place among the scattered pinecones. Large, well made, worn to a comfortable softness, it was definitely a manâs gloveâone that would be missed, so she should try to find its owner. She chuckled as her mind made the connection; a woman whose lifeâs work was a charity called Here to Help ought to be able to help one glove find the man who owned it.
Not that Amelia was looking to find a manâgloved or otherwiseâthese days. Just over a year out from a publicly broken engagement, Amelia was barely starting to feel as if talk had died down and she could be seen as Little Hornâs best helping hand, not its saddest broken heart.
She was tucking the glove in her pocket when she spotted its mate ten feet away. Then a boot...and a leg...until there, lying under the largest of the pine trees, Amelia spied the owner of those gloves.
She blinked a few times, startled to see a large, ruggedly dressed man sprawled in the wet needles under the boughs. âSir?â The angle of his arms and legs wasnât that of sleep, and last nightâs storm certainly wasnât conducive to camping out under the stars. Amelia dropped the gloves and her pack on the ground and walked over to shake the manâs shoulder. âHey, sir, are you all right?â
He didnât respond. Lord, help me, what do I do? she prayed as she looked around for any sign of companions or transportation. Short of Louie, her own horse, who stood inspecting a clump of grass behind her, Amelia was alone. She didnât recognize the rather handsome man; he was clean-cut, well if casually dressed, but mud-smeared as if heâd been out here all night. As if heâd come to some kind of mishap. âAre you hurt? Sick? You donât look like you should...â
