Message From The Author

Author's Message

My father was a Texan, my mother a British beauty (she actually placed second in a beauty competition). So I was delighted when Avon gave me the opportunity to blend my heritages and write the story of an Englishman who comes to Texas in search of fortune and discovers a woman unlike any he has ever known.

The son of a duke, Grayson Rhodes knows that due to circumstances beyond his control, he will never inherit his fathers estates or title. He welcomes the opportunity to travel to Texas,
where he is confident the land will help him put his painful past behind him.

Abbie Westland is a widow and farmer who needs someone to help her work the land she owns. She doesnt quite trust this Englishman with his impeccable manners and stylish clothes.

In Abbie, Grayson recognizes strength, determination and a
will to survive at any cost. And Abbie eventually finds herself reluctantly charmed by A ROGUE IN TEXAS.

Abigail stared at the man who had just made himself at home on her back porch. Its scandalous for you to be out here while Im bathing. Youreyoure She couldnt think of a word bad enough to describe him or his behavior. In the moonlight, she saw him flash a grin.


Youre no gentleman! she blurted.

I never claimed to be. Ive always thought of myself as a rogue.

Give me the towel.

Finish your bath and Ill dry you off.

No! She cursed the tremble in her voice.

What are you afraid of? he asked quietly. I wont ravish youat least not without your permission.

You touched me!

That was an accident. Probably one of the most pleasurable accidents Ive ever experienced.

Beneath the water, she clenched her hands. She was naked and vulnerable, and she could feel his gaze latched onto her, watching her, studying her.

I never would have thought to take a bath outside, but it must be rather relaxing to have the hot water caressing your skin while the stars look down.

Itd be a sight more relaxing if you werent here, she snapped.

He had the gall to laugh, loudly, joyfully. Im not stopping you from washing. Youre only a shadow in the night, Abbie.

Lord, she hated the way her name rolled off his tongue, soft and lyrical like a song shed sing to put the babies to sleep.
She held out her hand. Please, give me the towel.

He stood and draped the towel over the railing, close enough for her to reach, far enough away that she would have to bare a portion of her body to him to retrieve it. Some night, Abbie,
I will dry you off.

She watched him disappear in the darkness, the velvet threat lingering on the breeze.

I enjoy hearing from readers. You can write to me at: P.O. Box 250034, Plano, TX 75025-0034 or via e-mail at: Visit my website: authors/heath.htm.

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