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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her books. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard had a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance! You can visit her at www.tinaleonard.com.

      This book is dedicated to Kathleen Scheibling and Paula Eykelhof. Many thanks for the wonders of my career.

      To Lisa and DeanO, my best little friends. I love you.

      And to my Gal Pals, and the Scandalous Ladies and wonderful friend Georgia Haynes—what marvelous friends and teachers you have been to me.

      Contents

      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

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      “Most of the memorable women, fiction or nonfiction, have been willing to raise a little hell.”

      —Liberty Wentworth, throwing caution to the wind

      It was Ladies Only Day in the Tulips Saloon in Tulips, Texas, but Sheriff Duke Forrester pitched the heavy glass-and-wood doors open anyway, drawing a gasp from the crowd of women clustered around something in the center of the room.

      The ladies were, as usual, hiding something from him. In this town, named by women, and mostly run by women—it was true that behind every good woman there was a woman who’d taught her everything she knew—he had learned to outmaneuver both the younger and the older population of ladies bent on intrigues of the social, sexual and conspiratorial varieties.

      “I heard,” he said, his voice a no-nonsense drawl, “that Liberty Wentworth was back in town. You ladies wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

      Every one of them shook her head as the women tightened their circle. It was, he decided, almost an engraved invitation for him to storm their protective clutch and find out what they were up to. By now, they should know he was on to them. Oh, he’d let them have their way when they’d wanted to name the town cafeteria a saloon—they said a saloon sounded so much more dramatic to tourists who wanted that “old west experience.” But he wouldn’t let them have their way this time.

      Liberty Wentworth, his ex-fiancée, was trying to keep her return to Tulips a secret, he was sure, with a backing of blue-haired friends. Some silver-haired friends, too, depending on what Holt, the resident hairdresser, was mixing up for his clients. Duke was pretty certain Holt’s colorful creations were a reflection of the man’s current mood, but the ladies loved him, calling him “sympathetic” to their cause.

      Mostly, their cause was outwitting the sheriff, and this was plot number ninety-nine, give or take a few. Duke grinned, edging a foot closer to the ladies. Their faces grew worried with round-eyed concern.

      “Now, this is Ladies Only Day,” Helen Granger said sternly. “Sheriff, you know that means no gentlemen in here.”

      “Considering there are, what, maybe ten men in this town of fifty residents, I have to take exception to the rule. I think you ladies just like one day when you know I personally won’t be allowed in.”

      “Is one day of sisterhood too much to ask?” Helen demanded. “One day of female bonding in our saloon? Hentalk can’t interest you that much, Sheriff.”

      The hentalk comment gave them away, Duke decided, craning his neck to see what they were hiding. Women never called their chatter “hentalk,” and if a man called it that, he’d lose his hat from the gale-force wind of them yelling it off his head. “I notice Holt is excluded from The Rule,” he said silkily.

      “Well, Holt’s different,” Pansy Trifle explained. “You know he is. Not like yourself at all. Not so manly,” she said, sucking up and trying to flatter his ego.

      Ha. He had no ego. Liberty Wentworth had taken care of his ego six months ago when she’d left him at the altar, her little feet in high-heeled white shoes running as fast as they could away from him, her veil flying behind her like a banner ribbon of surrender to freedom.

      “All right, ladies,” he said, gently moving Pansy to one side. “Let’s see what you’re up to this time.”

      Immediately after he’d parted the women, he wished he hadn’t felt such an urge to play his manly role of plot-buster. Because there in the center of the sheltering circle of her friends was Liberty Wentworth, the blond bombshell who had detonated his heart, still possessing the face of an angel and wearing the white wedding gown of his never-ending fantasies. Nightmares, really. His heart began an uncomfortable pounding as she