Fortune's June Bride

MEET THE FORTUNES!

Fortune of the Month: Galen Fortune Jones

Age: 34

Vital Statistics: Tall, dark and muscley, he’s a fine, upstanding rancher—and stubbornly single.

Claim to Fame: The oldest of Jeanne Marie Fortune’s seven children and possibly the sexiest boy of the bunch.

Romantic prospects: He is currently getting married to Aurora McElroy four times a day in the Wild West Wedding stage show. You tell me!

“I keep telling you, it’s all for pretend. I can’t help it if people think that ‘Rusty’ and ‘Lila’ look like a real couple. I’m just doing this to help out a friend. Aurora is like my little sister. A little sister with long red hair, big blue eyes, a little bitty waist … uh … The other part? Agreeing to be her fake husband for a week? I’ll admit, it’s complicated. But it’s only until her college roommate leaves town. And we are not playing house. What do you mean I’m protesting too much? We’ve known each other forever. We are just friends. I. Am. Not. Getting. Married.”

The Fortunes Of Texas: Cowboy Country Lassoing hearts from across the pond!

Fortune’s June Bride

Allison Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A frequent name on bestseller lists, ALLISON LEIGH’s high point as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books. She’s blessed with an immensely patient family who doesn’t mind (much) her time spent at her computer and who gives her the kind of love she wants her readers to share in every page. Stay in touch at www.allisonleigh.com and on Twitter, @allisonleighbks.

For my daughters—as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I need you to marry me.”

The words came out of left field.

Literally.

Galen Fortune Jones stared down at Aurora McElroy. He was pretty sure the last time he’d seen his neighbor had been a few months ago. They’d run into each other at the Horseback Hollow feed store. There had been no romance involved, considering that at the time he’d paid more attention to helping her daddy, Walt, load up his truck, before tending to his own business there.

Now he looked from her hand, clutching his left arm, back to her dark blue eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

She huffed, pushing a shining red ringlet out of her face. “It’s an emergency, Galen. I need a groom. Right now!”

You will marry a woman in white and be married within the month.

The words echoed inside his head and he wanted to shake it hard, just to see if something had come loose inside.

Instead, he glanced around where they were standing on a side street of Cowboy Country, USA, the Western-style theme park where just last week—in a moment of apparent insanity—he had agreed to be an “authenticity consultant.” And where, just a few weeks prior to that, one of the “Wild West” fortune-tellers had told him he would soon be hitched.

He’d laughed it off then as nonsense for two simple reasons. One, he didn’t believe in fortune-tellers, and two, he’d reached the age of thirty-four without once entertaining the idea of marrying someone.

So he looked back at Aurora and adjusted his hat. “You’re dressed for the part,” he allowed. “I’ll give you that.”

In fact, she looked downright pretty. All dolled up in an old-fashioned-looking dress with beads and lace hanging off her slender shoulders and her eyes made up to look even bigger than they already were.

She gave him a look that ought to have scorched his toes. “Of course I’m dressed for the part.” Her hands spread a little wider. “Wild West Wedding!” She raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for some response. “The...noon...show,” she elaborated at his blank look.

She twitched her skirt, drawing his attention. It was some sort of filmy, lacy thing about the same color as the doily his mom had had forever sitting underneath a vase in the front parlor of the house he and his four brothers and two sisters had grown up in. Sorta white. Sorta beige.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Galen.” Aurora sounded exasperated. “The noon show! I’m playing Lila, the Wild West bride. But I just found out my groom, Rusty, was hauled off a little while ago to see Doc Shoemaker, because he went and fell off his horse.” She shook her head. “Lord save me from city boys who think they know everything about a horse just because they’ve watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

Comprehension finally dawned. Maybe it would have more quickly if Galen hadn’t gotten distracted thinking about that fool fortune-teller business.

“Wild West Wedding,” he repeated. “That’s the show you put on at the center of the park.”

“Yes.” Looking relieved that he’d finally gotten a clue, she lifted her other hand and shoved a dog-eared script at him. “It’ll take ten minutes of your time, Galen. Please.”