“It’s me, all right!”
He must have been staring, because Sherry flashed him an embarrassed grin. At least, he thought it was Sherry. He couldn’t get any words past his lips. She looked nice, he supposed, but she didn’t look like Sherry anymore. Gone was the cascade of curls that had reached the middle of her back. Now her hair fell in gentle waves down to her shoulders—and it was brown.
But the changes didn’t stop there. What had happened to those glossy red lips? Her clothes could only be described as sedate, and her shoes had no heel whatsoever. Even her voice seemed more subdued.
With an inward groan, he realized this metamorphosis was his doing. She’d changed for him….
Dear Reader,
Things get off to a great start this month with another wonderful installment in Cathy Gillen Thacker’s series THE DEVERAUX LEGACY. In Their Instant Baby, a couple comes together to take care of an adorable infant—and must fight their instant attraction. Be sure to look for a brand-new Deveraux story from Cathy when The Heiress, a Harlequin single title, is released next March.
Judy Christenberry is also up this month with a story readers have been anxiously awaiting. Yes, Russ Randall does finally get his happy ending in Randall Wedding, part of the BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series. We also have Sassy Cinderella from Kara Lennox, the concluding story in her memorable series HOW TO MARRY A HARDISON. And rounding out things is Montana Miracle, a stranded story with a twist from perennial favorite Mary Anne Wilson.
Enjoy all we have to offer and come back next month to help us celebrate twenty years of home, heart and happiness!
Sincerely,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
Sassy Cinderella
Kara Lennox
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copy writer, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels.
When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel.
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
840—VIRGIN PROMISE
856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS
871—TAME AN OLDER MAN
893—BABY BY THE BOOK
917—THE UNLAWFULLY WEDDED PRINCESS
934—VIXEN IN DISGUISE*
942—PLAIN JANE’S PLAN*
951—SASSY CINDERELLA*
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
Epilogue
He had no idea how it had happened. One minute he was herding a bunch of cows to their winter pasture. The next, Jonathan Hardison was flying through the air, landing on his head with a thud hard enough to knock the air out of him, then being stomped on by the same stupid horse that had just bucked him off.
Damn, being stomped on hurt. A white-hot pain stabbed through his leg, but he was no stranger to pain. Ranching wasn’t an occupation for any guy who couldn’t stand the sight of blood or who got the vapors if he cut his hand on barbed wire.
As he lay there on the ground, struggling to get a breath, his right-hand man got off his horse and came over to check out the damages. Cal Chandler was a new man at the Hardison Ranch, but he was the local veterinarian’s grandson, and he seemed competent enough.
Until now.
Cal just stared at Jonathan, gaping.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Jonathan said when he could finally catch enough breath to speak. “Help me up.”
“I don’t think so, boss,” Cal said in a shaky voice. He waved away Jon’s horse, which had come over to investigate why his master was on the ground, having apparently forgotten that moments ago he was in a blind, bucking panic. “I think you better just stay right there till an ambulance gets here.”
“What? Have you gone loco? I might be a little banged up…” Jonathan leaned up on one elbow, then wished he hadn’t because he got a good look at his leg. It was bent in a place no leg should be bent.
“You got a cell phone on you?” Cal asked.
“In the saddlebag,” Jon said, just before he passed out.
“IT ISN’T AS BAD as it could have been,” said Jeff, Jonathan’s brother, the next day at Mother Frances Hospital in Tyler, Texas. Tyler was the closest big town to the Hardison Ranch. “It was an ugly break, but at least the swelling’s down.”
“So let me go home,” Jon grumbled. Lying in bed doing nothing was not his favorite way to spend time.
“Tomorrow. Maybe,” Jeff said. “I’m more worried about the concussion than the leg, to tell you the truth.” Jeff also happened to be Jonathan’s doctor, and he seemed to love bossing his older brother around.
“Like hell, ‘maybe,”’ Jonathan said. “I’ll check my own damn self out.”
“Ohh, surly, are we?” Jeff’s fiancée, Allison, had also dropped in for a visit, as if this was some kind of social event. Allison’s presence was the only thing that kept Jonathan from cussing Jeff out.
“You’d be surly, too, if you had to wear one of these stupid gowns with your butt hanging out.”
“Seriously, Jon,” Allison said, “you shouldn’t go home until you’re sure you can handle it. You’ll be on crutches—”
“No way. Put one of those rubber tips on this thing,” Jonathan said, knocking his knuckles against his cast. “I can walk.”
“You cannot walk,” Jeff said. “You put weight on this leg at this stage, it’ll never heal.”
“Then give me the crutches and let me get out of here.”
“Maybe,” Jeff said again. That word was starting to tick Jonathan off.
“Even with crutches, you’re going to need some help when you go home,” Allison said. “You’ve got two lively kids to care for.”
“Pete can handle the kids,” Jonathan said, referring to their eighty-one-year-old grandfather. Pete had built the Hardison Ranch from nothing, but he’d long ago deeded the property to his three grandsons and retired. He still lived in the house, though, and he helped take care of Jonathan’s children: eight-year-old Sam and seven-year-old Kristin. He said it made him feel useful, which was just fine with Jonathan, since he’d been long divorced and needed help at home.
“You’re forgetting,” Jeff said. “Pete and Sally are getting married this Saturday.”
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