Karen Templeton - Playing For Keeps

“…bustles with characters and surprises.”

—Publishers Weekly

“An inventive and consistently surprising plot as well as a smart and likable heroine set this romance apart from the pack.”

—Booklist

“…filled with lovable characters and their hilarious quirks…a fun book and a perfect beach read.”

—Romantic Times

“Well written, warm-hearted and funny…an example of Chick Lit at its best…reminiscent of Jennifer Crusie’s work, perhaps crossed with a bit of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum for good measure….”

—Susan Scribner, The Romance Reader

“Get ready to laugh until there are tears! Karen Templeton makes the move from series romance to chick lit with élan.”

—Judith Ripplemeyer, The Word on Romance

Dear Reader,

While I love a good edge-of-your-seat, action-packed thriller as much as the next person, I’ve long believed the most compelling stories are those found in everyday life—the day-to-day challenges of raising kids and dealing with family relationships; the way life forces us to grow in ways we never expected to; the breath-stealing awe of finding new love. To this end, I tend to write about people the average reader might know, or even be, characters no less exceptional simply because they do eight loads of laundry a week or worry about a learning disabled child or sometimes wonder how they’re going to make it to the next payday. These are people who find joy in the scent of a roasting turkey, the feel of a child in their arms, the satisfaction of knowing that beat-up old minivan in the driveway is theirs. And these are people no less worthy of finding true love simply because they’re “ordinary.”

This book, my first single title for Silhouette, is no exception. Since the story is set in my adopted hometown of Albuquerque, New Mexico, these people see what I see every day, shop where I shop, deal with many of the same issues I—and most of you—face every day. Yet for five months, as they revealed their fears and hopes and deepest desires to me, their quiet drama kept me on the edge of my seat. I pray they do the same for you.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-02531-7

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

© 2003 Karen Templeton

Published in Great Britain 2014

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ®are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2018-07-18

To everyone who hangs out in the AOL Books Community Writing Series Romance folder—thanks for seven years (and counting)of cheers and commiseration. (Not to mention answers to any off-the-wall question I can think up!) I love you guys.

And to Trish, Holly, Susan and Alice, for reassuring me the story made sense.

And to Gail—I’m holding you to that promise to edit my next three hundred books!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

If Joanna Swann had learned nothing else in her thirty-two years, it was that bad news rarely came à la carte. If one thing went wrong, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe would drop. This phone call, however, had to make at least the thirty-fourth shoe to drop within the past few weeks, which was sorely taxing her good humor.

For a single bright, glistening moment, the temptation to leave her three children to fend for themselves and to take to her bed was nearly overwhelming. However she scraped together her last ounce of reserve and said, “Mr. Shaw—” she tried to place her relatively new neighbor, but all she was getting was a beer belly and a cowboy hat large enough to shelter a family of six “—how is that even possible? Chester doesn’t even come up to Glady’s knees. Let alone her—”

“I saw ’em with my own eyes! Right out here in my own goddamn backyard! Your goddamn dog got up on the top step of my goddamn back porch and got my bitch pregnant! We were just about to have her bred, too, and we were counting on that income! You have any idea how much a Great Dane puppy with papers brings?”

Her neck muscles cramped from cradling the cordless between her jaw and her shoulder as she tossed Bob the Builder fruit snacks into the boys’ lunch boxes. Joanna glared at the fur bag lying with his head on his paws, bushy white eyebrows twitching. Damn dog had been nothing but trouble from the moment her ex-husband had brought him home for the kids’ Christmas present, year before last. Without consulting her first, natch. And if the kids hadn’t been so attached to the mangy beast, he would’ve long since been history. His manners were atrocious, his libido embarrassingly healthy, and there hadn’t been a fence or wall invented he couldn’t dig out of. But Chester was purebred, so Bobby had said it didn’t make sense to get him fixed until they’d put him out to stud a few times, at least. Apparently, Chester had decided to take the initiative on his own.

Heaven help them, this was going be one butt-ugly batch of puppies.

“No, Mr. Shaw,” Joanna said, eyeing the clock and frowning—Bobby was late picking up the kids for school. Again. “I have no idea how much—”

“Six hundred bucks a pop, that’s how much! And Gladys always has at least ten pups! That means I’m out six thousand dollars, lady. So what’re you gonna do about it?”