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Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas
SUSAN MEIER
Cara Colter
Jessica Hart
THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMASWith her little foster son Harry to care for, Christmas suddenly sparkles again for secretary Wendy Winston. The only fly in the ointment is her Scrooge boss, Cullen Barrington. So Wendy sets about showing Harry and Cullen just how magical a family Christmas can be. His Mistletoe Bride When police officer Brody Taggert and Lila Grainger were snowed-in together, beautiful Lila began to break down the armour around Brody’s heart. But what will happen when they leave their snowbound shelter?UNDER THE BOSS'S MISTLETOEEvents planner Cassie Grant’s job is to transform Jake Trevelyan’s mansion into a snow-kissed wedding venue. Not to relive her high school fantasy that they’re the ones getting married. Until Jake leans in for a show-stopping kiss!
Bride Under the Mistletoe
The Magic of a Family Christmas
Susan Meier
His Mistletoe Bride
Cara Colter
Under the Boss’s Mistletoe
Jessica Hart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u6c7f9e76-039e-52f2-a361-8c00c77ded1e)
Title Page (#udf54db91-3a0c-5349-ad2c-a70577d09018)
The Magic of a Family Christmas (#u9d98b42e-c9c8-56eb-a2dd-6d4e826408e9)
About the Author (#ub7c1d7f3-c730-5c15-a7a5-cae7d984025e)
Dedication (#u40b6997d-81b8-5f66-8ae4-58d89092df5f)
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
His Mistletoe Bride (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Under the Boss’s Mistletoe (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
The Magic of a Family Christmas (#ulink_f72aa3c2-8122-5749-942e-c403d0ccdc92)
SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realized everything that had come before was only research! As one of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience watching romance blossom in unexpected ways. She lives in Western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com.
For the people at Gardners Candies in
Tyrone, Pennsylvania!
Thanks for a great tour and your help with this story!
Merry Christmas!
For my mom, who was the inspiration
For Harry’s Christmas cookie painting!
PROLOGUE (#ufcfd4155-bce1-5830-a4e3-bd88035a395c)
“I’VE hired a nurse.”
“Really?” Wendy Winston tried to sound surprised by her next-door neighbor’s announcement, but she wasn’t. Betsy’s cancer hadn’t responded to treatment. Wendy had been able to help Betsy struggle through the aftereffects of the initial round of chemotherapy, but her friend needed real care now. Care beyond what a neighbor could provide.
“I appreciate all the help you’ve given me over the past few weeks, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad for the break.”
Fluffing the fat pillow before she slid it under Betsy’s head, Wendy laughed. “You think I’ll be glad to go back to an empty house?”
Betsy frowned. “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t move back to your family in Ohio after your husband died.”
She shrugged. “Memories mostly. It seemed too abrupt just to leave when he died. I needed time to process everything.”
“It’s been two years.”
“I also have a job.”
“No one stays away from family for a job.”
She grinned at Betsy. “Would you believe I can’t sell that monstrosity I call a house?”
Betsy laughed.
“One of these days I’ll have the kitchen and bathrooms remodeled and then I can put it on the market and go.”
Even Wendy heard the wistfulness in her own voice so she wasn’t surprised when Betsy said, “It makes you sad to think of leaving.”
“Four years ago I settled here with the assumption that Barrington would be my home. I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong. No matter how alone I am.”
“Why didn’t you and Greg ever have kids?”
“He wanted to be done with his residency before we even tried.”
“Makes sense.”
Wendy smiled sadly.
“But it didn’t make you happy.”
“If we’d done what I wanted and had a child I wouldn’t be alone right now.” She sighed. “Not that I only wanted a child to keep from being lonely. It was more than that. My whole life I longed to be a mom. But what Greg wanted always came first. Some days I struggle with that.”
“That’s one of those tough choices that happens in a marriage. Nobody’s fault.”
Wendy turned away. “Yeah.” She wouldn’t burden Betsy with stories of how her late husband had been so focused and determined that he frequently didn’t even listen when she talked. She didn’t want to give Betsy any more to worry about or the wrong idea. She had loved Greg and missed him so much after he died that she had genuinely believed she would never be happy again. But because he was so self-absorbed, their marriage was far from perfect.
Silence stretched out in Betsy’s sunny bedroom as Wendy walked around the room tidying the dresser and bedside tables.
“You know, it won’t be the nurse’s job to read Harry a story or tuck him in at night,” Betsy said, referring to her six-year-old son.
Wendy turned from the dresser.
“So if you want to keep coming over to do that, I know it would make Harry happy. He loves it when you read to him.”
Wendy smiled. “I love it, too.”
CHAPTER ONE (#ufcfd4155-bce1-5830-a4e3-bd88035a395c)
WENDY Winston twisted the key to silence her small car and turned to the boy on the seat beside her. Six-year-old Harry Martin blinked at her from behind brown-framed glasses. A knit cap covered his short yellow hair. His blue eyes were far too serious to be those of a child. A thick winter coat swallowed his thin body. His mittened hand clutched a bag of toy soldiers.
“I’m really sorry to have to bring you to work.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “S’okay.”
