To Rob


Always more than honorable mention.

We might not have millions,

but we have each other.

And that’s all I really need.

Love you!





Author’s Note


This story began on the flight between Tulsa and the Caribbean. My husband was working in Puerto Rico and I was going out to join him. I fell asleep on the plane (thanks to the side effects of the allergy medication I usually take before a flight) and suddenly there was a man in my head. An angry man who turned toward his just-trying-to-help friend and said, “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to marry the next woman I see.”

I woke up enough to write down the sentence and during the next few weeks mulled over all the possibilities. Who was this man and why did he have to get married? And through that dream Can’t Buy Me Love was born—that’s the first version.

Allow me to explain. After arriving in Puerto Rico and settling in, I wrote the first couple of chapters and sent it out to editors. I crossed my fingers and prayed for my chance at a publishing contract. In the meantime I finished the book and saw an ad for a contest called “Write Your Heart Out.” It was sponsored by a small but up and coming publishing house. I was quick enough to read between the lines. They were looking for new authors to launch their house. So I gathered up my chapters to Can’t Buy Me Love and sent them in.

Then the amazing happened—I won the contest! And signed my first publishing contract. That was over twelve years ago. The publishing industry is rocky terrain. My house folded before my book went to print, but not before I was asked to make many, many changes to it. Many changes. Have I mentioned there were a lot of them?

Now I have two different books with the same base plot: a man has to get married in order to inherit his family fortune. He picks woman at random and his life will never be the same. Other than that, the stories are as different as apples and oranges.

Two books one market.

So here is the second version., All You Need Is Love. Named after a Beatles song as well, this second take on the plot is still whimsical and fun, though it has a little more ‘meat’ to it than the first.

I hope you enjoy this tale of Tristan and Claire and I hope that if you read both Can’t Buy Me Love and All You Need Is Love, you embrace their similarities as well as their differences

Happy Reading—

Amy





CHAPTER ONE


“So this is it? You’re telling me there’s no way out? That after all this time you’ve come up with...” Tristan McFarland thrashed a frustrated hand erratically through the air around him “...with nothing?”

Ian Anderson let the file of papers drop onto the top of his desk with an ominous slap. “Save the theatrics, Tristan. I’ve been telling you this for weeks.” He glanced at the small desk calendar and leaned back in his chair. “Eleven, to be exact.”

“I realize that,” Tristan gritted out, his words directed toward the carpet beneath his pacing feet. “But you’re my attorney. You’re supposed to get me out of this. It’s what you get paid grand sums of money to do.”

Ian raised his own hand in a defeated, but patronizing gesture. “Yes, I’m your attorney. And I’m a damned good one. But I’m telling you that there isn’t another estate lawyer in Texas who will say differently—your aunt’s will is rock solid. It ought to be. It was drafted by the best.”

“Ah, yes, Masters,” Tristan spat the name. “The whole thing was probably his idea.” Tristan thrust his fingers through his hair. “Forcing me to get married!”

“There are worse things.”

Tristan shot him a scalding look, one that usually sent his subordinates crawling away in shreds. “Oh, sure,” he agreed. “Being disemboweled, drawn and quartered.”

Ian shrugged. “As I’ve told you before, you can contest, but it’s a lose/lose situation. On the off chance that you do win, you’ll have a dozen or so fifth cousins twice removed crawling out of the woodwork for their piece of the McFarland pie. You’ll be lucky to come out with enough to pay your legal fees.”

Tristan slumped dejectedly into a leather chair and released a weighted sigh as he brooded. “Risking the money’s one thing, but the press...” He rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s like some bad movie on Lifetime.”