Charlotte Douglas - Almost Heaven

“No!” Well…

“Good. I’ll feed you, then take you home. Besides, I want to show off the house. It’s changed a lot since the last time you saw it.”

If she continued to object, he might sense the reasons behind her reluctance, and her pride couldn’t allow that, so she abandoned her protests. But she’d shut the door on a life with Grant long ago. Tonight she’d make certain it remained locked and barred.

As they neared Grant’s place, her curiosity stirred. The one glimpse she’d had of the house that fateful summer years back had revealed a log cabin, ready to collapse in a strong wind. She’d hated the house the moment she saw it, but not liking the place had been the least of her problems that day.

The following morning she’d broken their engagement, certain she’d done the right thing. Even though she’d missed Grant terribly, she’d never doubted she’d made the best decision.

The last thing on earth she wanted was for Grant to prove her wrong.

Dear Reader,

To paraphrase an ancient Chinese saying, we live in interesting times. Due to tumultuous world events, we appreciate more than ever security, solace, acceptance and love as bulwarks against the troubles of the day. In my new series, A PLACE TO CALL HOME, I’ve created a small town in upstate South Carolina where love and acceptance, along with only the occasional mayhem, abound. For the residents of Pleasant Valley, friends are family, and family is everything.

In Almost Heaven, book one of the series, Merrilee Stratton has fled Pleasant Valley for New York City to follow her dream of becoming a famous photographer. When a family crisis calls her home, she can’t avoid her ex-fiancé, Grant Nathan, a handsome country vet. Will Merrilee come to realize that everything she’s searched for has been in Pleasant Valley all along—and that there’s no place like home?

I hope you enjoy Merrilee and Grant’s story, and, as we say in the South, y’all come back and visit Pleasant Valley again in book two, One Good Man, will be out in January 2005.

Happy reading!

Almost Heaven

Charlotte Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The major passions of Charlotte Douglas’s life are her husband—her high school sweetheart to whom she’s been married for over three decades—and writing compelling stories. A national bestselling author, she enjoys filling her books with love of home and family, special places and happy endings. With their two cairn terriers, she and her husband live most of the year on Florida’s central west coast, but spend the warmer months at their North Carolina mountaintop retreat.

No matter what time of year, you can reach her at charlottedouglas1@juno.com. She’s always delighted to hear from readers.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

591—IT’S ABOUT TIME

623—BRINGING UP BABY

868—MONTANA MAIL-ORDER WIFE*

961—SURPRISE INHERITANCE

999—DR. WONDERFUL

1027—VERDICT: DADDY

1038—ALMOST HEAVEN†

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

380—DREAM MAKER

434—BEN’S WIFE

482—FIRST-CLASS FATHER

515—A WOMAN OF MYSTERY

536—UNDERCOVER DAD

611—STRANGER IN HIS ARMS*

638—LICENSED TO MARRY

668—MONTANA SECRETS

691—THE BRIDE’S RESCUER

740—THE CHRISTMAS TARGET

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

MJ Stratton hoisted the strap of her camera bag higher over her shoulder and wearily tackled the last flight of stairs to her fourth-floor apartment.

“First thing when I become rich and famous,” she muttered with what little breath she had left, “I’m renting in a building with an elevator.”

Unlocking her door, she consoled herself with the fact that at least her apartment had a comfortable bed, one she would hit as soon as she dumped her equipment. The wedding reception at the posh Manhattan hotel had lasted past 1:00 a.m., and the bride’s mother had insisted that MJ snap candid shots until the final guest departed.

After entering the apartment, she secured the door behind her and flicked on the lights. With a sigh of relief, she slid her bulky camera bag into the closet and tossed her coat and hat on top of it. Kicking off her shoes and tugging off her blouse, she headed for the bedroom.

The wedding had been a royal pain. The bride had refused to be photographed from any angle except her left side, and the bride’s mother had followed MJ like a Velcro shadow, attempting to dictate every picture’s composition. Fortunately, MJ reassured herself, the hefty fee from the annoying assignment would pay her bills until she lined up more work.

If all else failed, the job at the gallery was still open. Maybe she should just take it. She’d engaged in this argument with herself before and, as always, ended up admitting she’d have more money with a steady job but even less time for her own art. She’d arrived in New York six years ago expecting to make a big splash with her photographs, but so far she had yet to produce a ripple.

Weariness consumed her. After pulling on the oversize T-shirt she used as a nightgown, she crawled between the covers and switched off the lamp. She would have dropped instantly to sleep, except for the insistent flashing of a small red light, indicating a message on the answering machine on her bedside table. She turned onto her other side and pulled the pillow over her head to block the annoying blinking. The message could wait until morning.

It is already morning, she thought with an exhausted sigh, but no point in listening to the message now. Whoever had left it had probably long since gone to bed.

MJ closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. The waiting message stirred her curiosity. What if it was her big break, a call from a gallery that had seen her work and wanted to exhibit her photographs? Or an offer for another job, photographing a Bar Mitzvah or a lavish children’s party with income that would keep her solvent into next month? Unable to sleep without knowing, she rolled over, flipped on the light and pressed Play.

“Hello, Merrilee June.” The soft, cultured drawl of her grandmother filled the room, but a sense of urgency tinged its usual calm. “We have a family emergency and I need you at home right away. I’ve reserved you a seat on the 7:00 a.m. flight out of JFK into Greenville. See you soon.”

“End of message,” the machine announced.

Heart pounding, MJ bolted upright in bed. “That’s it?” she yelled at the machine. “You aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Adrenaline surged through her veins. Sleep was impossible with a dozen dire possibilities flitting through her mind. She grabbed the phone and dialed her grandmother’s number. After waiting more than twelve rings, she had no answer. Her nana, Sally Mae McDonough, apparently still persisted in her lifelong habit of unplugging her phone when she went to bed.