by Lori Wilde
And by facing his past, and the misguided beliefs that sprang from his childhood, he’d learned how to trust his instincts. He’d been able to find peace with his mother and balance in his life.
“Dad,” Hunter said, coming into the kitchen holding a brightly wrapped package to his ear and shaking it. “Can you wrap up a puppy?” The boy had talked nonstop about wanting a dog for Christmas. They’d led him to believe he wasn’t getting one.
“Hunter,” Shepherd said, not wanting to spoil the surprise waiting for him in the garage. “You know that you can’t.”
“Aw man.” He looked disappointed.
Shepherd suppressed a smile.
Yawning, Naomi shuffled into the room in her bathrobe and slippers. Her hair was mussed, sleep creases on her cheek. She looked absolutely adorable.
Shepherd pulled her to him, kissed her long and soft. Then handed her a cup of decaf coffee and one of the banana nut muffins that Terri Longoria had brought over the day before. “Morning, butterfly.”
“You ready for this?” she asked, smiling at him over the rim of her mug.
“Got fresh batteries in the camera.” He picked up the camera on the counter.
Hunter was bouncing around, popping in and out of the kitchen, bringing and shaking a different package every time he reappeared. “Can I open them now? Canna, canna, canna?”
Naomi ruffled his hair. “Lead the way.”
“Yay!” Hunter bunny-hopped into the living room ahead of them.
Shepherd slipped his arm around Naomi as they entered the room. His gaze landed on the beautiful Christmas tree that he and Hunter had erected together. This year, instead of the usual ornaments, they decorated the tree entirely in white skeleton keys hung with red velvet ribbons.
It painted a striking picture. A hundred white keys honoring their love.
They sat on the couch, watching Hunter open his presents. Shepherd filming as he tore into them, one after another. It seemed he was on the search for that one special present. When he’d gone through all the gifts, Hunter turned to his parents, his bottom lip pooched out in a pout.
“Something wrong, son?” Shepherd asked.
“I didn’t get a dog.” Hunter blinked rapidly. “I wanted a dog.”
Naomi called the boy over, whispered in his ear. “Go look in the garage.”
Hunter’s eyes widened and a sweet grin overtook his face. He darted to the garage. Shepherd and Naomi got up to follow him.
Hunter threw open the door, dropped to his knees at the sight of the golden retriever puppy. “C’mon ’ere, boy.”
The puppy flung himself into Hunter’s arms, licked his laughing face.
“Mom, Dad,” Hunter gasped between helpless giggles. “Thank you, thank you. This is the best Christmas ever!”
While Hunter romped with the puppy, Shepherd tugged Naomi into his arms for a long, soulful kiss.
She took his hand and placed it on her belly, and for the first time, he felt their son growing inside her kick.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, feeling as wide-eyed as Hunter did when he spied the dog.
“Yes.” She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.
Standing there with all the dreams of his life coming true, Shepherd sent up a prayer of heartfelt gratitude.
For this was indeed the best Christmas ever.
An Excerpt from To Tame a Wild Cowboy
And now a sneak peek to Lori Wilde’s upcoming Avon Books release, coming in spring 2019!
To Tame a Wild Cowboy
Available soon at your favorite bookseller!
Chapter 1
Mrs. Bean’s white nondescript sedan pulled up outside the duplex. Followed shortly by a familiar bronze Ford King Ranch one-ton dually pickup truck.
Distressed, Tara stood at the living room window, arms wrapped securely around Julie. Her heart skipping crazily.
This was it. The moment she’d been dreading since she’d learned who the baby’s father was. Mom, Kaia, and Aria had offered to be here for the showdown, but this was Tara’s battle. She needed to fight it alone. At least for now.
Afterward, her family could help her pick up the pieces.
Always a good hostess, she had set out a teapot and coffee carafe on the coffee table, along with finger sandwiches and scones. At the last minute, she’d bought pink strawberry wafer cookies because she remembered that they were Rhett’s favorite. As if this were some kind of silly garden party instead of a serious meeting that could end all her hopes and dreams for the future.
Mrs. Bean got out of her car. She wore a strange little pillbox hat over the top of her bun, a beige suit dress, low-heeled pumps, and a strand of pearls, looking as if she’d raided the Jackie O collection of a vintage clothing store. Her outfit added to the surreal quality.
But it was the man stepping from the expensive pickup truck that drew Tara’s attention.
His hair was the color of aged whiskey, private select, and on the sexy side of shaggy. He wore a straw Stetson cocked rakishly to the left. His heavily starched jeans clung tight to his muscular thighs, and a gold rodeo belt buckle glistened in the afternoon sun like the Holy Grail.
He walked with a lanky roll, his hips lean and loose. A leisurely stroll that said, I’ve got all the time in the world for you, babe. Tara understood why women fell over themselves to get next to Rhett Lockhart. He possessed that undeniable something.
Tara steeled herself. Denying it. Denying him.
That bowl-’em-over charm didn’t work on her. She knew all his mischievous tricks. She’d been the babysitter standing outside his bedroom window, fourteen to his ten. Arms crossed over her chest, catching her impish charge as he slipped to the ground, incorrigible and unrepentant. Even then. Now, eighteen years later, she was foster mother to his infant daughter.
Fate was a fickle wench.
Mrs. Bean crossed over the lawn to speak to him, holding out her hand, tote bag hoisted up on her shoulder. He shook the woman’s hand, but his eyes stayed trained on Tara’s front door.
Instinctively, Tara clutched Julie closer.
Rhett and Mrs. Bean turned, moved up the sidewalk in lockstep. They cut an uneven picture. Five-foot Mrs. Bean in her Jackie O duds, placing a hand on her pillbox hat to hold it in place against the wind. Five-foot-eleven-inch Rhett, sporting designer boots, sweeping off his Stetson, and resting it against his chest by the crown.
The closer they drew, the harder Tara’s heart pounded.
Julie squirmed, made a soft mewling sound. Tara hitched her higher, kissed the baby’s cheek. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. You’re about to meet your daddy.”
This was a good thing, Tara tried to tell herself, the best thing for Julie. Every girl deserved to know her daddy.
But what if Rhett wanted custody?
Tears clogged Tara’s throat. Maybe he wouldn’t want the baby. Maybe he would understand he wasn’t equipped to care for an infant with ongoing health issues. Maybe he would agree to relinquish his parental rights so Tara could adopt her.
Please, she prayed silently, please.
She’d spent the past three days planning how to lobby her case. She could rally the Alzate and Lockhart clans. Get them to convince Rhett he wasn’t in any position to raise a child. He didn’t have the skills or, let’s face it, the constitution for fatherhood. He was a party-hardy type with wanderlust, a single-minded rodeo cowboy driven to win at all costs. Not the ideal environment for childrearing.
They passed Tara’s view from the window, climbed the front steps, and for the first time she saw Rhett was sporting a black eye, bruised lips, and a stitched cut over his left eyebrow. Bull riding casualty? Or barroom brawl? Either was highly probable.
She whisked from the living room, down the foyer to the door. Got there just as they knocked.
Still holding Julie close to her heart, Tara took a deep breath. Opened the door. Meant to say hello, but couldn’t find the words. Terrified that if she spoke, she’d start crying.
Mrs. Bean stood on the welcome mat, a tight little smile on her face. She turned to Rhett. “Mr. Lockhart, this is your daughter Julie’s foster mother, Tara Alzate.”
Behind Mrs. Bean, Rhett’s face paled as his battered eyes met Tara’s gaze, and he said in a voice choked with stunned shock, “My God, it’s you.”
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author LORI WILDE has sold over eighty works of fiction to four major New York publishing houses. She holds a bachelor’s degree in nursing from Texas Christian University and a certificate in forensic nursing from Kaplan University. She is a member of the International Association of Forensic Nurses.
Her first New York Times bestseller and the third book in her Twilight, Texas series, The First Love Cookie Club has been optioned for a television movie. Readers may write to Lori at [email protected].
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
By Lori Wilde
The Stardust, Texas Series
Love of the Game
Rules of the Game
Back in the Game
The Cupid, Texas Series
How the Cowboy Was Won
Million Dollar Cowboy
Love with a Perfect Cowboy
Somebody to Love
All Out of Love
Love at First Sight
One True Love (a novella)
The Jubilee, Texas Series
A Cowboy for Christmas
The Cowboy and the Princess
The Cowboy Takes a Bride
The Twilight, Texas Series
The Christmas Key
Cowboy, It’s Cold Outside
A Wedding for Christmas
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
Christmas at Twilight
The Valentine’s Day Disaster (a novella)
The Christmas Cookie Collection
The Christmas Cookie Chronicles:
Carrie; Raylene; Christine; Grace
The Welcome Home Garden Club
The First Love Cookie Club
The True Love Quilting Club
The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club
Available from Harlequin
The Stop the Wedding Series
Crash Landing
Smooth Sailing
Night Driving
The Uniformly Hot Series
Born Ready
High Stakes Seduction
The Right Stuff
Intoxicating
Sweet Surrender
His Final Seduction
Zero Control
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from To Tame a Wild Cowboy copyright © 2019 by Laurie Vanzura.
the christmas key. Copyright © 2018 by Laurie Vanzura. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition NOVEMBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-246828-4
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-246827-7
Cover art by Larry Rostant
Cover photographs © Shutterstock (six images)
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
first edition
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario, M5H 4E3
www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida
Uttar Pradesh 201 301
www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com
