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When a lawman who values order gets stuck with a feisty crusader who likes to stir things up theres going to be trouble in Texas Now that shes settled in town Tina Cahill is determined to get Broken Wheels saloon closed for good To that end she pickets outside the place every afternoon Unfortunately so far no one has paid any attention Vince Yates earned the nickname Invincible Vince because of his reputation for letting absolutely nothing stop him But Vince is about to face his biggest challenge yet his past has just caught up with him His father mother and the sister he didnt know he had show up in Broken Wheel without warning His father is still a schemer His mother is showing signs of dementia And his surprise sister quickly falls for one of Vinces best friends Vince suddenly has a lot of people depending on him and Tina doesnt approve of how hes handling any of them With nearly every other man in town married off Vince finds himself stuck with strong-willed Tina over and over again Of course Tina is the prettiest woman hes ever seen so if he could just get her to give up her crazy causes he might go ahead and propose But hes got one more surprise coming his way Tinas picketing at the saloon has revealed a dark secret that could put everyone Vince loves in danger.



About the Author

Mary Connealy

I wrote my first book when I was about twelve. A romance novel. I shudder to think what a twelve year old could know about romance. I have no idea what happened to the manuscript. I suppose my mother found it, and burned it while screaming in horror, but I've always been afraid to ask. Was it a hundred pages? Two? I have no idea, but I seem to remember just writing FOREVER! So I'm guessing two pages long at least. As a new bride I marched straight out of journalism school and into the kitchen, I did a lot of scribbling. I still have those heartbreaking works of staggering genius, Ode to Roast Beef, things like that, all born out of the 'Write What You Know' school of literature. I began writing more seriously when my baby went to kindergarten. Not writing well of course, but just putting words on paper. No one does anything well the first time. I'm sure Babe Ruth missed the first ball pitched to him. I'm sure Picasso smeared pages with paint-y fingers when he was a kid - as I remember he went back to that later in life. I'm sure Beethoven played the eighteenth century version of Chopsticks before went for the sonatas. My writing journey is similar to a lot of others. Boil it down to persistence, oh, go ahead and call it stubbornness. I just kept typing away. I think the reason I did it was because I'm more or less a dunce around people - prone to sit silently when I really ought to speak up(or far worse, speak up when I ought to sit silently) .So, I have all these things, I want to say, in my head; the perfect zinger to the rude cashier, which you think of an hour after you've left the store, the perfect bit of wisdom when someone needs help, which doesn't occur to you until they solve their problems themselves, the perfect guilt trip for the kids, which you don't say because you're not an idiot. I keep all this wit to myself, much to the relief of all who know me, and then I write all my great ideas into books. It's therapeutic if nothing else, and more affordable than a psychiatrist.So then a very nice, oh so nice publishing company like Barbour Heartsong comes along and says, "Hey, we'll pay you money for this 45,000 word therapy session." That's as sweet as it gets.My journey to publication is the same as everyone's except for a few geniuses out there who make it hard for all of us. And even they probably have an Ode to Roast Beef or two in their past.



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