Tracy Wolff: A Christmas Wedding

There was an unbearable sweetness that came from being touched by Jesse. Before he could move, before he could stop, Desiree wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him even more tightly against her.

His lips closed over hers gently, sweetly, and for a moment the earth ceased to spin. Warmth started in her belly, as her body came to life for the very first time. His mouth moved against hers once, twice, and the warmth became a burning she never could have imagined. She moaned softly and opened her lips.

And then it was over. Jesse was thrusting her away from him, his breathing harsh. “Desiree—”

“Shh.” She reached up, her fingers once again resting against his mouth. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I was the one who kissed you.”

Then she spun around and ran toward home, knowing—deep inside—that her life had irrevocably changed. It might take her a few years, but Jesse Rainwater was going to be hers. He just didn’t know it yet.

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Dear Reader,

It is with great joy and excitement that I write this, my first letter to you, about A Christmas Wedding. This is a story near to my heart, not just because it is my first (which would be reason enough) but because it takes place very close to my own home.

I got the idea as I was driving through central Texas one summer day with my entire family. We had just passed a Thoroughbred farm and my oldest son, who was eight at the time, was fascinated by the place. His questions prompted me research to help him find the answers, and that research hooked me on the idea of a book set in the Thoroughbred racing world.

And though I had the setting down right away, the characters were a little harder to come by. I wanted a tough-as-nails Thoroughbred rancher, but I wanted her to be a woman. Imagine, I thought, the struggles she would have as she fought for her place in a sport still dominated largely by men. Well, Desiree Hawthorne was born, and because she needed a hero as strong and sexy and smart as she was, so was Jesse Rainwater.

I’ve written a number of books since A Christmas Wedding and have loved all of my characters. But Jesse and Desiree are my favorite, perhaps because they have to fight so hard to find—and hold on to—each other in a world that is constantly shifting beneath their feet.

I’ve been a Harlequin reader for twenty years now, ever since my mother first stuck a Harlequin Romance novel in my hand after a fruitless trip to the bookstore, where I had read every young adult novel on the shelves. Therefore it is a huge thrill to me to have my first novel be a Harlequin Superromance book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it—drop me a line at tracy@tracywolff.com and let me know what you think.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Tracy Wolff

Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks, and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she is when immersed in a great novel. Married for twelve years to the alpha hero of her dreams, she is the mother of three young sons and an English professor at her central Texas community college. Tracy loves to hear from her readers, so check out her Web site at www.tracywolff.com and her blog at sizzlingpens.blogspot.com.

For my mom,

who started this whole roller-coaster ride

so many years ago, and for Jenn, who swears

she always knew I could do it.

Thanks to both of you for sticking by me.

Beverley Sotolov for believing in this story and

for her patience as she helped a brand-new writer

get her feet wet so beautifully; and to

Wanda Ottewell for helping make this novel

the best it could be and answering

a million or so questions.

Thank you both.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I’VE HAD IT, DESIREE. I can’t do this anymore. Not for one more day. Not for one more minute.”

“What’s the matter?” Desiree Hawthorne-Rainwater asked with raised eyebrows, glancing up from her jewelry box just in time to see her husband of twenty-seven years hurl a large manila envelope at the center of the bed they hadn’t shared in more than a year.

“This.” Jesse’s eyes darkened to obsidian as he used a sweeping gesture to encompass everything in the room, his voice vibrating with contained fury. “All of this.”

Understanding moved through her, warming her for the first time in she couldn’t say how long. At last, something they could agree on again.

The noise and chaos were grating—truck after truck of the supplies needed to make this afternoon and evening a success were arriving nonstop and she certainly couldn’t blame Jesse for being annoyed by it when she herself had wanted to run away and bury herself in work more than once since this whole process had begun.

In a moment of weakness, she’d even contemplated offering Willow money if she would simply run away to Vegas—anything to get life back to normal on their idyllic Thoroughbred ranch in central Texas. But Willow had her heart set on a Christmas wedding—at home—and as mother of the bride and assistant wedding coordinator, burying her head and encouraging elopement hadn’t really been an option.

“I know it’s been crazy around here lately, but it’ll settle down after the wedding this afternoon.” She smiled wryly at the six feet, four inches of bristling, enraged masculinity currently regarding her with disbelieving eyes.

Part of her longed to reach a soothing hand out to him, but the tension between them had grown so thick in the past few months that she was afraid even that small gesture would rock the delicately balanced boat of their relationship. “We just need to hang in there a little longer.”

“You think that’s what this is all about? Willow’s wedding?”

The warmth died as an icy trickle of unease moved through her. “Isn’t it?” It was her turn to glance around the room. “Things are nuts around here today and have been for a while.”

“You can’t seriously be that out of touch.” Jesse shook his head, disgust evident in every line of his body. “If it would make Willow happy today, I’d gladly put on a gorilla suit and attempt to fly to the moon under my own power.”

“Well, what, then?” She couldn’t help the defensiveness that had crept into her tone—once upon a time he’d felt the same way about her.

“I’m talking about the new trainer you hired.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment washed through her—along with a healthy dose of annoyance. Hating the weakness her red cheeks hinted at, she focused on the annoyance instead. Fed it, until she was almost as angry as Jesse.