A Bravo Homecoming
A Bravo Homecoming
Travis Bravo was sick of his meddling mother and her matchmaking ways. So what better way to stop her than to bring a fiancée home for the holidays? One catch–he wasn't even dating anyone. But that was where his rough-and-tumble oil-rig friend, Samantha Jaworski, came in.An unpolished tomboy, Sam was game for anything for a good friend. But after her girlfriend-ready makeover, she fell easily into the role of Travis's loving partner–and into his arms. Would she be standing under his mistletoe…for keeps?
How easy it would be, to go after her, to grab her free hand, to haul her back to him, wrap his arms around her, kiss her again and again and again.
But he didn’t.
Somehow, he kept his head.
She turned when she reached the doorway to the sitting room. “See you tomorrow.” She quietly shut the door behind her.
He sank to the edge of the bed, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
Thinking he should call the whole thing off.
And knowing he would do no such thing.
Travis Bravo’s mom is determined to find him the perfect woman. And she doesn’t listen when he asks her, repeatedly, to stop matchmaking, please. He’s loved and lost and he’s not going there again. Now he just wants to go home for Thanksgiving without having every pretty debutante in San Antonio waiting to meet him.
He comes up with a plan. Yeah, okay, his strategy involves a great big lie. But still. It’s a harmless lie, one that hurts no one. All he needs is the right woman.
His good buddy Samantha “Sam” Jaworski is the perfect choice. He talks her into helping him out a little. Sam’s a soft touch. She’ll do anything for a friend, and Travis is about the best friend she’s got. Plus, Sam wants to make a few changes in her life.
They come to an agreement. She’ll go home with him for Thanksgiving and help him get his mom off his back. He’ll help her spiff up her image and find a new job.
It sounds like a great idea. Until they begin to discover more about themselves—and their true relationship—than either of them bargained for.
Happy holidays, everyone!
A Bravo Homecoming
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oregon. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.
For good men and true-hearted women everywhere.
May your holidays be filled with good cheer, family togetherness and much love!
“Honey, are you seeing anyone special?” Travis Bravo’s mother asked.
Travis stifled a groan. He should have put off calling her back.
But he’d already done that. Twice. In a row. Aleta Bravo was a patient and understanding mom, and she got that he wasn’t real big on keeping in touch. But she did have limits. After the third unreturned call, she would have started to worry. He loved his mom and he didn’t want her worrying.
Besides, when Aleta Bravo started to worry, she might get his dad involved. And if his dad got involved, steps would be taken. The two of them might end up boarding a helicopter and tracking him down in the middle of the Gulf.
No joke. It could happen. His parents had money and they had connections and when they tracked you down, you got found.
So now and then, he had no choice but to call his mom back, both to keep her from worrying and to keep from getting rescued whether he needed it or not.
She was still talking, all cheerful and loving—and way too determined. “I only ask because I have several terrific women I want you to meet this time. Do you, by any chance, happen to remember my dear friend Billie Toutsell?”
He did, vaguely. Not that it mattered if he knew the woman or not. He knew what she had.
At least one, probably two or three.