Teresa Carpenter - Daddy's Little Memento

She’d like to tell him no, to pretend her every thought hadn’t revolved around him for the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, she’d never been that good an actress. “I’m still thinking.”

A sensual smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “Perhaps you need more persuading.” His husky tone suggested what form his influence would take.

The heat spiraling through her body tempted her to vacillate just so she could feel his mouth against her for real. Last night’s dream had left her unfulfilled. Given half a chance, Alex would take care of that problem.

At a price.

She understood the unspoken terms. Marriage or nothing.

Dear Reader,

April showers are bringing flowers—and a soul-stirring bouquet of dream-come-true stories from Silhouette Romance!

Red Rose needs men! And it’s up to Ellie Donahue to put the town-ladies’ plans into action—even if it means enticing her secret love to return to his former home. Inspired by classic legends, Myrna Mackenzie’s new miniseries, THE BRIDES OF RED ROSE, begins with Ellie’s tale, in The Pied Piper’s Bride (SR #1714).

Bestselling author Judy Christenberry brings you another Wild West story in her FROM THE CIRCLE K miniseries. In The Last Crawford Bachelor (SR #1715), lawyer Michael Crawford—the family’s last single son—meets his match…and is then forced to live with her on the Circle K!

And this lively bunch of spring stories wouldn’t be complete without Teresa Carpenter’s Daddy’s Little Memento (SR #1716). School nurse Samantha Dell reunites her infant nephew with his handsome father, only to learn that if she wants to retain custody then she’s got to say, “I do”! And then there’s Colleen Faulkner’s Barefoot and Pregnant? (SR #1717), in which career-woman Elise Montgomery has everything a girl could want—except the man of her dreams. Will she find a husband where she least expects him?

All the best,

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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In loving memory of Charles Joseph Carpenter.

Daddy, you’ll always be my hero.

is a fifth-generation Californian who currently lives amid the chaos of her family in San Diego. She loves living there because she can travel for thirty minutes and be either in the mountains or at the beach. She began her love affair with romances in the seventh grade when she talked her mother into buying her a category romance; she and romance have been together ever since.

Teresa has worked in the banking and mortgage industry for fifteen years. When not working or writing, she likes to spend time with her nieces and nephew, go to the movies and read. A member of RWA/San Diego, she has participated on the chapter board in numerous positions, including president, VP Programs, newsletter editor and conference coordinator. She is especially proud of having received the chapter’s prestigious Barbara Faith Award.

Dear Samantha,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m gone and it’s only you and Gabe now. I hope you’ll find comfort in each other, as you both gave me comfort when I needed it most.

How I’ve envied you your strength and sense of purpose. I was weak, always so weak. And yes, I made mistakes.

You were right. I should have told Gabe’s father about him. But he couldn’t miss someone he never knew, and I needed Gabe so much. He’s the only thing I ever did right in my life. He’s my heart and my soul. I couldn’t give him up.

But no more stalling, Gabe’s father is Alexander Sullivan of Paradise Pines, California. I have no proof to offer you beyond a mother’s knowledge. He made a point of being careful; we both did. But Gabe was meant to be. I’ll always be grateful for the time I had with my son.

I rest easy knowing you’ll always be there for Gabe.

Love,

Sarah

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Alex Sullivan was a man who didn’t appreciate surprises.

He believed in rules. Being the oldest of six boys, he’d learned early in life that rules created control from chaos. Being the principal of Paradise Pines High School, he knew control meant the difference between order and anarchy.

So when he opened his door on Sunday morning to find Samantha Dell, the new school nurse, standing on the front deck of his mountain home with a baby in her arms he saw trouble in tight jeans.

“Good morning, Alex.” She graced him with an overbright smile.

“Hello, Samantha,” he greeted the leggy blonde, fighting to control the quick surge of wanting that hit every time he looked into her lively green eyes.

He had a strict personal policy against dating colleagues, a policy she challenged twice a week. Technically, she didn’t work for him, but as the district nurse, she spent two days a week at his high school, which in his mind put her off-limits.

And if that wasn’t enough to put a damper on his desire, the chubby-cheeked kid she held would be.

With some regret he pulled his customary defenses in place and lifted his glance from the sweet curve of her hips up over a pale pink sweater cropped at the waist to her anxious jade-green gaze. Then, almost objectively, he studied the dark-haired, blue-eyed baby in her arms, wondering what brought the pair to his home on a cold January morning.

“Alex, I need to talk to you.” Nerves wore at the edges of Samantha’s smile. She cleared her throat. “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

He glanced down at his T-shirt and shorts still damp from his morning run. Hardly ideal for entertaining. Sundays were his day of excess. He slept an extra hour, ran an extra mile and drank an extra cup of coffee or two while reading the paper. Sunday nights meant dinner at Gram’s. Between the paper and dinner he occupied himself with everything and nothing, whatever struck his fancy.

If he was occasionally lonely, most of the time he appreciated the peace and quiet of his life.

Samantha’s expression warned him his peace was about to be destroyed.

“Come on in.” He stepped aside. He’d seen her with the boy, who couldn’t be more than a year old, around town, but Alex always managed to keep his distance. “Is this your son?”

In the entry she turned to face him, her arms tightening around the little boy until he wiggled in her grasp.

“No. He’s yours,” she said in a rush.

Disbelief rooted him in place. She couldn’t mean that the way it sounded. At a loss, he looked from her to the baby then back at her. “Mine, how?”

She blinked as if surprised by his question, but she quickly recovered. “Yours, as in you fathered him.”

“That’s not possible.” Denial came first, sharp and sure. He always, always protected himself. “I only met you four months ago.”