Wife Wanted. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Kate Fortune’s Journal Entry
Oh, my! My son Jake accused of murdering Monica Malone! Whatever will the family do? I know, without a doubt in my mind, that Jake is innocent. That evil Monica has brought nothing but trouble for this family. I suspect she was at least partly responsible for my plane crash and supposed death. And I’m sure she wasn’t acting alone. So, I must still remain in hiding to catch the culprits. But how am I going to help Jake get out of this mess?
A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader,
First and foremost, FORTUNE’S CHILDREN is about a family. A big, adventurous, larger-than-life and very American family. A family with a loving, powerful, matchmaking woman at its head. What fun, I thought, when my editor offered me the opportunity to write one of the twelve books in the series. I love to write about families. So I was hooked.
But there was more: an ongoing mystery revolving around that loving, powerful, matchmaking woman at the head of the family.
And then my editor told me about the other authors who’d be participating: really terrific award-winning, top-selling authors. I’d be in such good company.
And best of all, my own contribution to the series would include a sexy single dad, an adorable lost little boy, a Saint Bernard dog with a heart as big as Lake Superior—and a woman on the verge of a whole new life.
I mean, honestly. How could I resist?
I couldn’t. And I didn’t. And it’s been every bit as much fun as I thought it would be.
I hope you enjoy Wife Wanted, too—as well as all the other books in the FORTUNE’S CHILDREN series.
Sincerely,
Wife Wanted
Christine Rimmer
CHRISTINE RIMMER
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, too—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 Oklahoma. Visit Christine at her new home on the Web at www.christinerimmer.com.
Meet the Fortunes—three generations of a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they unite to face an unknown enemy, shocking family secrets are revealed…and passionate new romances are ignited.
NATALIE FORTUNE: The loving schoolteacher always helps those in need. However, an accident forces her to rely on her new tenant to care for her. And she soon finds that Eric Dalton’s tender touch is irresistible….
ERIC DALTON: The handsome single father can’t ignore the place Natalie has taken in his and his son’s hearts. He is falling in love with her, but is he willing to take a risk on marriage and make Natalie his wife…?
JAKE FORTUNE: Will he stand idly by and let Monica Malone take over Fortune Cosmetics? Or will he find a way to stop Monica—permanently?
JESSICA HOLMES: This desperate mother needs help to save her young daughter’s life. Will her newly found Fortune relatives come to her aid?
LIZ JONES—CELEBRITY GOSSIP
Monica Malone is dead! And Jake Fortune is the murderer! Yeah, yeah, he says he’s innocent. But come on, Jake. Weren’t you the last one to see her alive? Weren’t you arguing with her over a very personal—or perhaps financial—matter? Didn’t your own daughter see you drunk, and disheveled?
And you expect the good people of this fine city to believe you’re innocent? If you’re not guilty, then I’m Princess Di!
I’m sick and tired of the rich and their fancy, high-priced lawyers getting away with murder—literally. I hope they throw the book at you, Jake Fortune!
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
One
The ad in the Star Tribune had sounded like just what the doctor ordered:
Last-Minute Summer Rental: Spacious, comfy farm-style lakefront house on ten acres. Close to Twin Cities. Fifty-six foot houseboat included for those long, lazy days on the lake. Terms and length of stay negotiable. Call Bud at Walleye Property Mgement: 555-8972
Rick Dalton had seen the ad in Friday’s paper. He’d called the number right away and spoken with Bud Tankhurst, who told him that the lake in question was Lake Travis, and that the house was “A slice of the past with all the modern conveniences.” And that yes, the property was still available. The owner would be willing to show Rick the house and grounds and possibly discuss terms that Sunday, June 29, at two in the afternoon.
Rick and his son, Toby, left Minneapolis at a little after one on the appointed day. It seemed like no time at all before they were turning off the highway and onto the narrow, winding road that would take them to the farmhouse.
The countryside was just as Rick had hoped it might be: serene and lovely. Maples and ash trees loomed thick all around, so they drove through a tunnel of vibrant green. Rick rolled down his window to get a whiff of the fresh, moist air and to listen in on the songs of the birds and the steady drone of cicadas.
According to Bud Tankhurst, there were over fifty miles of shoreline in the many branches and inlets of Lake Travis. Eighty percent of that shoreline was privately owned, which kept the tourists to a minimum and meant that even though the lake was near the Cities, they saw few other cars on the road.
“Beautiful, isn’t it, son?” Rick asked, as if he actually might get an answer.
But of course there wasn’t one. A quick glance at Toby, in the passenger seat, reminded him not to get his hopes up. The five-year-old sat staring straight ahead, his thin face a blank.
Rick resisted the urge to ask, “Toby, did you hear me?” He’d asked that question too many times in the past six months. Silence had always been the answer.
Rick checked the numbers on the mailboxes as they passed driveways that wound off into