Cynthia Thomason - Rescued By Mr. Wrong

Life is meant to be lived

Surprising her family for Christmas seems like a good idea...until Carrie Foster loses control of her car in a freak blizzard. Now she’s stuck in the middle of nowhere with a fractured leg, the unplanned-for guest of the man who saved her life.

Keegan Breen lives in a secluded cabin on his family’s neglected campgrounds, which nature-lover Carrie sees as a potential paradise. The haunted war correspondent is a world away from the boy he was once. But together, can they prove the cynics wrong and show that opposites can not only attract, but be soul mates?

“I’m a realist, Carrie. You’re a...”

“I know what I am! Go ahead, be cynical.” She glared at him, an inner fire now lighting her eyes. “You were a good reporter. Heck, you’re even famous. But here’s what I think. I think you got some kind of kick out of seeing the awfulness of mankind. I think it confirms what your dark, brooding soul has always believed—that our world is a miserable place. And that, Keegan Breen, is just plain sad, and that’s why I feel sorry for you.”

“You know what I think, Carrie?”

She scowled. “I think you’ve made it quite clear.”

He smiled, because in truth he was enjoying this moment more than many he’d experienced in a long time. He more than liked this fighter Carrie. He more than admired her. “I think we’ve pegged each other pretty accurately. We haven’t been together two weeks yet, and we know each other as well as if we’d been friends for years.”

Secretly, he was starting to hope they could be more...

Dear Reader,

This is the final love story about three sisters, The Daughters of Dancing Falls. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey of each of the unique women, who are bound together by their love for each other and their caring father. No family dynamic is perfect. It takes work, patience and love to nurture the bond of parent and child.

In this book, Carrie’s story, this youngest daughter flexes her independence muscles despite having challenges to face. All her life she fought against her father’s overbearing concern, and only when she meets a man who seems her complete opposite does she learn what it means to see the world from another person’s point of view—even her father’s. I sincerely hope that Carrie’s struggle to be herself while recognizing her special gift to help another person heal will be a satisfying end to a series I loved writing.

Cynthia

PS: I enjoy hearing from readers. You may contact me at cynthoma@aol.com or visit my website, cynthiathomason.net.

Rescued by Mr. Wrong

Cynthia Thomason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CYNTHIA THOMASON inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high-school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.

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This book is dedicated to anyone who ever felt that true love was just beyond their grasp.

Don’t ever stop reaching.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

“WHITEOUT CONDITIONS.” Those had been the radio forecaster’s words just a few minutes ago as Carrie slowly navigated the lakeshore route to her home in Fox Creek, Ohio. She couldn’t recall ever driving on such treacherous roads before, but now she knew exactly what was meant by “whiteout.” The paleness of the snow-covered asphalt seemed to blend with the white of the air around her as flurries mounted in intensity. The horizon had been obliterated, making the lanes of the highway indistinct and the sun only a gray, hazy memory. Her surroundings were muddled together, a vacuum of white, starkness and cold.

The sudden blizzard wasn’t the only frosty aspect of this holiday season. Her chilly conversation with her father last night was still fresh in her mind.

“I’m very disappointed, Carrie,” her father had said. “This is the first time you’ve missed Christmas, and I can’t imagine what is more important than being with your family.”

Once again her father had used the guilt factor to persuade her to do what he thought was best. Carrie was tired of explaining all her decisions. Besides, no one in the Foster family understood Carrie’s devotion to trees, especially the shoreline birches of central Michigan lakes that were showing serious effects of pesticide treatment.

Even worse, her father had followed up by announcing, “I’ve made you an appointment with a brilliant new allergist, Dr. Hower, for December 26. I don’t want to cancel.”

“Not another allergist, Dad,” she’d said. “We all know what I’m allergic to—nearly everything. I won’t be prodded and poked anymore!”

“Fine. Have it your way.” He’d been angry, but after a moment his tone had leveled. “Honey, I am the doctor in this family, and I’m only thinking of you.”

That statement had calmed her since it was true. Unfortunately, her father’s concern and medical expertise had left her longing for independence her entire life and a lot less mothering from her caring father. This time she was determined to chart her own course, which meant monitoring the experiments with her trees and refusing more asthma treatments.

Dr. Martin Foster had ended their uncomfortable conversation with a warning. “If you change your mind...”

“Daddy, I won’t.”

“If you do, don’t set out in the morning. Bad weather is predicted for Christmas Day.” As if he didn’t trust her to do anything he told her, he’d added, “I mean it, Carrie. Don’t drive if the forecast is unfavorable.”

When would he ever stop treating her like the baby of the family? Even babies grew up, and she was thirty years old. However, by that evening, Christmas Eve, she’d mellowed. With promises from her crew to continue her work, she’d decided to tackle the five-hour drive in the morning and arrive at her father’s estate, Dancing Falls, in time for Christmas dinner. She’d loaded her car with gifts and headed south for the normally easy drive. Hopefully she’d miss the worst of the weather.