A Match Made in Texas, #1
Author: Margaret Brownley
Pub Date: November 1, 2016
ISBN:
9781492608134
Welcome to Two-Time Texas:
Where tempers burn hot
Love runs deep
And a single marriage can unite a
feuding town
…or tear it apart for good
In
the wild and untamed West, time is set by the local jeweler…but Two-Time Texas
has two: two feuding jewelers and two wildly conflicting time zones. Meg
Lockwood’s marriage was supposed to unite the families and finally bring peace.
But when she’s left at the altar by her no-good fiancé, Meg’s dreams of
dragging her quarrelsome neighbors into a ceasefire are dashed.
No
wedding bells? No one-time town.
Hired
to defend the groom against a breach of promise lawsuit, Grant Garrison quickly
realizes that the only thing worse than small-town trouble is falling for the
jilted bride. But there’s something about Meg’s sweet smile and determined grit
that draws him in…even as the whole crazy town seems set on keeping them apart.
Who knew being Left at the Altar could
be such sweet, clean, madcap fun?
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Left at the Altar Excerpt:
Grant
read the sign on Miss Lockwood’s lawyer’s door. Barnes had gone to San Antone,
and the note gave no indication of when he would return.
That left
Grant with only one option, and not a pleasant one at that. He hated having to
break the news to Lockwood himself, but he didn’t want to leave the man’s
daughter in jail. It was no place for a lady, not even one as unconventional as
her.
Grant
swung back into the saddle with a grimace and moments later reached the
Lockwood Watch and Clockworks shop. He dismounted and wrapped the reins around
the hitching post. “If I don’t come back in ten minutes, Chester, you better
fetch the sheriff,” he said half-jokingly to his horse.
The wind
was cold and the sky thick with dark clouds. The locals claimed Texas had no
climate, but it did have weather— though supposedly it seldom snowed in Two-
Time. The most Grant had been told to expect was an ice storm or two before
winter’s end, but it sure did smell like snow now.
He blew
on his cupped hands and rubbed them together before reaching for the brass
doorknob. A clamor of bells announced his arrival.
Lockwood
was adjusting one of the tall clocks. At the sound of the bells, he turned
toward the door with screwdriver in hand. “Mr. Garrison.” His voice as cold as
the expression on his face, Lockwood closed the clock’s glass door and walked
behind the counter. “If you’re here about the trial, you’d best speak to my
lawyer.”
Grant
pulled off his hat. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “I came to tell you
that your daughter has been arrested.” Had Grant expected Lockwood to show
surprise or even dismay, he would have been sorely disappointed.
Instead,
Lockwood only shrugged. “What has Amanda done this time?”
“Nothing
that I know of. She’s not the one in jail.”
This time
Lockwood did look surprised. “You’re not saying that Meg…”
“I’m afraid so.”
Lockwood
rubbed his chin. “Hmm. What do you know? What’s she doing there?”
“I
believe she assaulted someone.”
“Really?”
Lockwood’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline. “Who’d she
assault? Tommy Farrell, I hope.”
“Sorry to
disappoint you, but I believe it was the dogcatcher.” Lockwood pondered this
for a moment. “Wonder what beef she has with him. Far as I know, he’s on
Lockwood time.”
Grant ran
a finger along his upper lip. Did everything in this town have to be about
time? “Not anymore,” he said wryly. “He’s now on jail time.”
Lockwood blew out his breath. “How much is
that mercenary sheriff gonna charge me this time?”
“I believe the customary bail is five
dollars.”
“Harrumph.” Lockwood pulled five singles out
of the cashbox and locked it. He reached for his hat, plucked his keys off a
hook, and stormed around the counter, stopping only to turn the sign in the
window to Closed.
Recalling
that Lockwood had had a recent health scare, Grant followed him outside and
waited for him to lock the door. The man certainly looked robust enough. Was it
possible that Miss Lockwood had exaggerated her father’s condition?
“Do you
have daughters, Mr. Garrison?” Lockwood asked.
“No, sir.
I’m not married.”
Lockwood
pocketed his keys. “Well, if you’re smart you’ll keep it that way and raise
chickens instead.” With that, he turned and headed for the jailhouse.
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MARGARET BROWNLEY penned
her first novel at age eleven and has been writing ever since. She’s now a New
York Times and CBA bestselling author and has written thirty-five novels and
one nonfiction book. Margaret and her husband have three grown children and
make their home in Southern California.
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