FIND YOUR SISTER
Three words scrawled on a piece of paper just upended Abby Winchesterâs world. Sheâd never known she even had a sister. Abbyâs sure sheâll learn the truth after traveling to the sleepy Texas town where she was born. And tall, brooding Clay Tanner may find the answers she needs, even if he does look more like a cowboy than a PI.
The petite blonde who just hired him is tempting Clay to break his rule not to get involved with a client. But the former ATF agent isnât ready for a relationshipânot after what once happened on his watch. Still, helping Abby uncover family secrets makes him wonder if itâs time to put his own past to rest. Is Abby willing to face an uncertain futureâtogether?
âHave some fun and loosen up a little.â
Abby shimmied her shoulders side to side for emphasis.
âIâm loose.â Clay shook his own shoulders.
âProve it!â she yelled above the music.
She threw herself into Clayâs arms, and he spun her around on stage feeling freer than he had in years. Her face was inches from his and her lips parted when their eyes met. He closed his for a moment and that was all it took for Clay to forget where they were...
His lips crashed down on hers, pent-up frustration colliding with his desire for the one woman who had turned his head for the first time in years.
When he finally heard the whoops and howls from the crowd, he released her. Abby stared up at him for a moment before hopping off the stage, leaving Clay to stand in the spotlight alone.
Dear Reader,
Sometimes ideas for books come from the craziest of places. A Texan for Hire came about when I was flipping through a Yankee Candle catalog. One of the scented pages instantly transported me to Ramblewood, Texas, and there stood Clay Tanner and Abby Winchester. I saw them so vividly that I stayed up all night outlining the first draft of this book. Subsequently, when I purchased my Mini Cooper shortly thereafter, I named it Abbyâand when you read this book, youâll understand why. While Clay and Abby werenât originally part of the Ramblewood series, Clayâs story was too important not to have a book of his own, and Abbyâs arrival in town will uncover almost three decades of secrets. Ramblewood will never be the same.
Iâd like to thank David Canton from My Texas P.I. for his willingness to educate me on the ins and outs of private investigating. His advice was invaluable.
Feel free to stop in and visit me at amandarenee.com. Iâd love to hear from you. Happy reading!
Amanda Renee
AMANDA RENEE was raised in the northeast and now wriggles her toes in the warm sand of coastal South Carolina. She was discovered through Mills & Boonâs So You Think You Can Write contest and began writing for the American Romance line. When not creating stories about love, laughter and things that go bump in the night, she enjoys the company of her schnoodle, Duffy, photography, playing guitar and anything involving horses. You can visit her at amandarenee.com.
For Duffy...you define unconditional love.
Chapter One
Abby Winchester wasnât used to waking up in a strange bed, let alone one in a strange town, thirteen hundred miles from home. Mazieâs Bed & Biscuit in Ramblewood, Texas, was a far cry from her early nineteenth-century row house in Charleston, South Carolina.
She sat up and yawned, replaying the events of the past month in her head. Abbyâs world had been turned upside down. It had begun with the death of Walter Davidson, her biological father, and had ended with the hospital board once again turning down her animal-assisted therapy proposal. As a physical therapist, Abby was determined to increase her patientsâ rehabilitation options, and despite the hospitalâs latest rejection, she vowed to continue fighting for the program she so passionately believed in.
And she would have focused on a new course of action if it werenât for one thing...the note the nurse had given her after Walter died. Scrawled in his handwriting on a piece of scrap paper were three words:
FIND YOUR SISTER.
Only one problem...Abby didnât have a sister. Well, not one she knew of.
Even though Abby doubted the rationality of Walterâs dying words, they continued to haunt her. With no other clues to go on, she had decided to begin her search in Ramblewood, the town of her birth. After sheâd driven halfway across the country in one straight shot, she was exhausted.
Abby squinted at the nightstand clockâhalf the morning was already gone. She forced her road-weary body out of bed, breathing deeply as her feet hit the floor. Fortunately the moving-car sensation that usually followed an extensive road trip had subsided.