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MEET THE FORTUNES!
Fortune of the Month: Christopher Fortune (Do not call him Chris Jones!)
Age: 26
Vital Statistics: Blue eyes, broad shoulders, six-pack abs. Recently hung up his spurs for a business suit.
Claim to Fame: The black sheep of the Jones family, he’s currently enjoying life in Red Rock—especially the “pretty girl smorgasbord.”
Romantic Prospects: He’s easy on the eyes, his wallet is full. He could have anyone … except the one girl he really wants.
“Leaving Horseback Hollow was the best thing I could have done. Now that I’m working for the Fortune Foundation, life is good. I have money, power and, most important, respect.
My new assistant, Kinsley, could not care less. She thinks I’m a player, born with a silver spoon in my mouth. She has no idea who I am inside or where I’ve come from to get where I am now. But there’s something about her that makes me want to tell her. Captain of industry Christopher Fortune may not be her type. But what if cowboy Chris Jones is?”
* * *
The Fortunes of Texas: Welcome to Horseback Hollow!
Falling for
Fortune
Nancy Robards Thompson
Award-winning author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my sweet mother-in-law, Juanita Eitreim. I miss you every day.
Contents
Chapter One
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve checked the directory three times. There’s nobody by that name listed.”
Strains of the new receptionist’s voice carried in through Christopher Fortune’s partially open door. He looked up from his in-office putting green.
What was her name again? He couldn’t remember. It was only the start of her second week. Jeez, but she was shrill. He’d have to talk to her about her tone. Not good for community relations. But first...
He realigned his stance as the golf pro had taught him, making sure that his toes were parallel to the pin at the end of the fourteen-foot portable green. He set the putter in the hollow part of his left hand and placed the right hand so that his right thumb rested on the left side of the shaft. He pulled back to take his shot—
“Sir, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Now her voice was teetering on exasperation. He couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but she was giving him a headache. “We have a Christopher Fortune, but nobody by the name of Chris Jones works here. Could he be the one you’re looking for?”
The words made Christopher hit the ball a little too hard. It rolled off the end of the green and under the coffee table that was part of the furniture grouping at the end of the room.
Who was asking for Chris Jones?
* * *
Two months ago, Chris Jones had adopted his mother’s Fortune family name and moved to Red Rock from Horseback Hollow, Texas. He’d dropped the Jones portion of his name when he’d accepted the new job. Now, he was Christopher Fortune, vice president in charge of community relations for the Fortune Foundation.
Christopher set down his putter, walked over and fully opened his office door to see what the ruckus was about.
What the hell—
“Toby?” Christopher said flatly when he saw his brother and his new sister-in-law, Angie, standing there. “What are you doing here, man?”
The receptionist, a slight woman with close-cropped black hair, looked so young that she could’ve easily been mistaken for a sixteen-year-old. She turned and froze, all wide dark eyes and pale skin, when she saw Christopher.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Fortune. I didn’t understand that they were looking for you. They asked for Chris Jones.”
Now she was blushing.
Christopher glanced at the name plate that was front and center on the reception desk.
