Special Agent Mary Paris is determined to catch the serial killer who murdered her friend, even if it means going under cover in the rodeo on her own time. Clint Sinclair, rodeo clown, is her way in. Mary is willing to put it all on the line for her job. She has nothing to lose.
The last thing Clint wants or needs is the responsibility for a woman who is ill-prepared for the rodeo. Mary is beautiful and tenacious, and she soon works her way under his skin.
Before the summer tour is over, they will catch the attention of the serial killer Mary’s pursuing. And they will both find themselves with everything to lose…
|Publisher:||Linda Winstead Jones|
|File size:||482 KB|
About the Author
After publishing more than seventy books, I’ve finally admitted to myself that I just can’t make up my mind about what, exactly, I want to write. Since 1994 I’ve written romance in several different sub-genres. Historical; fairy tale; romantic suspense; paranormal; fantasy; contemporary. As so many authors do, I write what speaks to me in that moment. Who knows what will come next?
Whatever the genre, I believe the perfect romance should provide a tear and a couple of laughs, a chill or two, and by the time the story is over, the reader should be left with a smile and the feeling that all is right with the world in that moment.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the story you just read. For more information please check out my website at www.lindawinsteadjones.com. You can sign up for my newsletter there, if you'd like. Free to drop me a note at email@example.com, or visit me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LindaWinsteadJones or www.facebook.com/LindaHowardLindaJones. I'm also on Twitter, @LWJbooks.
Read an Excerpt
Clint's Wild Ride
By Linda Jones
Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
All right reserved.
Chapter OneThe hairs on the back of Clint's neck stood up. Every nerve in his body went on alert. Something was wrong here. He was about to be ambushed. Shea had plied him with steak and potatoes, his favorite meal, forgoing her usual attempt at some evil casserole that often included the dreaded lima bean. His sister had stocked up on his preferred brand of beer, and after dinner had offered him a cold bottle and Nick's most comfortable recliner. She was all smiles tonight, and hadn't even mentioned the fact that he didn't have a woman in his life. Not once. Something was definitely fishy here. Their brother Boone, a private investigator, and his obviously pregnant wife, Jayne, were in attendance, having made the trip from Birmingham for the weekend. Dean, eldest brother and a deputy with the U.S. Marshals Service, was also present. And they were all looking at him. Staring. Waiting, just as he did, for the other shoe to drop. Even Justin, Shea and Nick's one-year-old son, knew something was up. He banged a big plastic car on the floor, but his eyes were on Uncle Clint. Shea glanced at her watch for the tenth time since they'd retired to the family room five minutes or so ago. Nick cracked his knuckles and glanced at the ceiling. Justin cooed and giggled. "Okay," Clint said, unable to stand the suspense any longer. "Somebody tell me what's going on." Shea glanced pleadingly at Dean, who sat on the far end of the couch he shared with Boone and Jayne. Dean slowly shook his head. "This is your party, Shea," he said. "I'm just here for ..." He glanced up at his little sister. "Why am I here?" "Moral support," Shea said softly, before turning her eyes and her smile on Clint. Shea had always been naturally curious, a trait which had led her to her current career as an investigative reporter for CNN. She could be fearless, unrelenting. Clint was usually proud of his little sister - until she turned those curious and relentless eyes his way. "Are you going to participate in the Brisco Rodeo this summer?" she asked, deceptively innocent and seemingly sweet. "Sure," Clint said warily. "Just like I have for the past three years." He didn't need to rodeo anymore. He had won a few big competitions before he'd given up bull riding four years ago, and he'd invested his earnings well. The horse ranch in north Alabama was finally making a profit. He occasionally worked as a rodeo clown because he liked it. The job was fun, exciting, dirty and dangerous. Just like him. The Brisco Rodeo was a six-week summer tour across the Southeast, and he had several friends who regularly worked that tour. Six cities, six weeks. Three or four days in each arena, and then they were off to the next show. His foreman, Wes, had no trouble running the ranch on his own when Clint took off for a few days or a few weeks at a time. "I have this friend...." Shea began. A woman friend, Clint knew immediately. For some reason his little sister was forever trying to fix him up. He was close to thirty, but he wasn't there yet. He had plenty of time to settle down. And no inclination to do so. Why was Shea so damned determined to see him married and reproducing? "Not interested," he said, silencing a stammering Shea before she went any further. He glanced at the close-mouthed occupants of the room, one after another. "And why does it now take the entire family to fix me up with a woman? Is the situation really that desperate? Dean's the oldest and he's not hitched. I don't see you trying to marry him off." "She does," Dean said sourly. "Just not in front of a crowd. Usually." "I'm not trying to fix up anyone today," Shea said, her voice too bright and quick. "This is strictly business." Her eyes sparkled with a new, sudden thought. She bit her lower lip. That meant trouble, every time. "Though, Mary is very nice, and she's pretty. And Dean, she's just your type. She's with the FBI, you're with the Marshals Service, you both carry guns. It's just ..." Dean held up a silencing hand. "I was going to let you hang yourself, Shea, but this is just too painful." He glanced at Clint and sighed. "There's been a series of particularly ugly murders over the past four years. Eight women in six different cities, in Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi and Tennessee. The victims were between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-six, all blond and attractive, all raped and then murdered. Three were killed by strangulation, the others were ..." He glanced at Shea and then at Jayne. "They were cut," he said in a lowered voice. "The bodies of all eight victims were dumped in isolated areas and not discovered for some time, which is why the connection to the rodeo wasn't made until recently." A chill ran down Clint's spine. He'd rather go on a hundred blind dates than process what this bit of information meant. "What kind of connection to the rodeo?" "Apparently there's a possibility that all the murders took place while the Brisco Rodeo was in town." "A possibility?" Shea shrugged and glanced away. "Some of the bodies weren't discovered for months, so it's impossible to have an exact date of death. But a couple of the dates of disappearance are definite, and the others are in the right time range." Clint shook his head. He had been set up, and in the worst possible way. "All through dinner," he said, "y'all knew what Shea wanted and you didn't say a word." "She made us promise," Boone explained. "Still ..." Dean interrupted. "We tried to tell her this was a lousy way to spring the idea on you, but she wouldn't listen." "She never does," Boone muttered. Clint turned his eyes to a silent Nick. "Don't look at me," Nick said, hands up in surrender. "I thought a simple phone call would work just fine." No one could reason with Shea when she didn't want to be reasoned with, not her brothers, not her husband. Clint was unhappy with them all at the moment. "You want me to spy on my friends. You want me to play private investigator and sneak around trying to find this guy for you. Nope. Not gonna happen. No way. I like the people I work with. There's not a serial killer in the bunch." "You don't know that," Boone interrupted. "You see them once a year for a few weeks. Someone there might be responsible for these murders." Clint shook his head. "No." Mentally, he ran down a list of the people he knew who traveled with the Brisco Rodeo. They were honest, fun-loving, hardworking people, each and every one of them. They were like family. "If the murders really are connected to the rodeo, maybe it's someone who follows the tour." "Maybe so," Dean agreed. (Continues...)
Excerpted from Clint's Wild Ride by Linda Jones Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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