Lynda Sandoval: One Perfect Man

After fourteen years of avoiding even the remote possibility of entanglements that might put his daughter in a vulnerable position, he’d willingly brought a beautiful woman into his house, into all their lives, even if only for business reasons. She was here, and the memory of her, he knew, would linger even when she’d left.

His daughter liked her. His grandmother liked her.

He even liked her, maybe a little too much.

He avoided entanglements, sure, but he’d never claimed to be celibate, and right now his libido was in rage mode. Damn. What had he been thinking, indeed?

Dear Reader,

Well, June may be the traditional month for weddings, but we here at Silhouette find June is busting out all over—with babies! We begin with Christine Rimmer’s Fifty Ways To Say I’m Pregnant. When bound-for-the-big-city Starr Bravo shares a night of passion with the rancher she’s always loved, she finds herself in the family way. But how to tell him? Fifty Ways is a continuation of Christine’s Bravo Family saga, so look for the BRAVO FAMILY TIES flash. And for those of you who remember Christine’s JONES GANG series, you’ll be delighted with the cameo appearance of an old friend….

Next, Joan Elliott Pickart continues her miniseries THE BABY BET: MACALLISTER’S GIFTS with Accidental Family, the story of a day-care center worker and a single dad with amnesia who find themselves falling for each other as she cares for their children together. And there’s another CAVANAUGH JUSTICE offering in Special Edition from Marie Ferrarella: in Cavanaugh’s Woman, an actress researching a film role needs a top cop—and Shaw Cavanaugh fits the bill nicely. Hot August Nights by Christine Flynn continues THE KENDRICKS OF CAMELOT miniseries, in which the reserved, poised Kendrick daughter finds her one-night stand with the town playboy coming back to haunt her in a big way. Janis Reams Hudson begins MEN OF CHEROKEE ROSE with The Daddy Survey, in which two little girls go all out to get their mother a new husband. And don’t miss One Perfect Man, in which almost-new author Lynda Sandoval tells the story of a career-minded events planner who has never had time for romance until she gets roped into planning a party for the daughter of a devastatingly handsome single father. So enjoy the rising temperatures, all six of these wonderful romances…and don’t forget to come back next month for six more, in Silhouette Special Edition.

Happy Reading!

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For two of my biggest supporters, my uncles Arsenio Sandoval and Ray Sandoval.

Thanks for making me feel like what I do is important.

Big thanks to the following people for the help and support they gave me while I wrote this

book: Amy Sandrin, Terri Clark and LaRita Heet, my venerable writing pals and critiquers.

Patricia McLinn—for keeping me honest, Nicole Burnham—for the chats and confidences,

Karen Templeton, for the nod! (You rule.) Gail Chasan, my editor. I’m so thrilled to be

“one of yours.” Jenny Bent, my agent, friend and wise adviser. A million times, thanks (dude).

My mom, Neva Sandoval. My biggest fan! I love you. And to Trent, for all the ongoing

support, and my best dog-pal, Smidgey, with much love. I swear I’ll change out of my

fleece footie pajamas more often as I write the next book.

is a former police officer who exchanged the excitement of that career for blissfully isolated days creating stories she hopes readers will love. Though she’s also worked as a youth mental health and runaway crisis counselor, a television extra, a trade-show art salesperson, a European tour guide and a bookkeeper for an exotic bird and reptile company—among other weird jobs—Lynda’s favorite career, by far, is writing books. In addition to romance, Lynda writes women’s fiction and young-adult novels, and in her spare time, she loves to travel, quilt, bid on eBay, hike, read and spend time with her dog. Lynda also works part-time as an emergency fire/medical dispatcher for the fire department. Readers are invited to visit Lynda on the Web at www.LyndaLynda.com, or to send mail with a SASE for reply to P.O. Box 1018, Conifer, CO 80433-1018.

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

There are two lasting bequests we can give our children:

One is roots. The other is wings.

—Hodding Carter, Jr.

Erica Gonçalves clutched her cell phone between ear and shoulder—no small feat considering the contraption was about the size of her palm and flat as a compact. The side of her head felt superglued to her shoulder, and the opposite side of her neck had stretched to the point where she’d likely need alternating heat and ice tomorrow just to function. She paid only scant attention to her mother’s voice on the other end of the line as she moved around the soon-to-be-full hotel meeting room with purposeful strides, assuring every minute detail had been attended to before everyone arrived.

Nothing annoyed her more than a poorly planned meeting, and seeing as how this was her dog-and-pony show, she wouldn’t stand for anything less than efficient structure, smooth flow and a high degree of productivity. Time was money, after all, and she never seemed to have enough of either. If she did, she’d be running her own event-planning company instead of working for someone else. Not that she didn’t love her job. She did. But as far as she was concerned, the more freedom and control she had in all aspects of her life, the better.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said, m’ija?”

Oops. “Yes, Mama,” she fibbed. “I’m sorry. I’m doing a million things at once.”

“You should slow down, honey. Take a breath.”

“No time.” She flicked her wrist over and checked the sleek black face of the Saint Honoré watch she’d splurged on during her last vacation—a solo trip to Paris last summer. Had it really been almost a year since she’d had a break? “My meeting starts in—ugh! Too soon. I need to go over the agenda one more time.” A subtle hint. She waited. Unfortunately Mama didn’t pick up on it. Erica stifled a sigh. “What was it you were saying?”

“Just wondering why that boss of yours always makes you travel alone. A woman alone. It makes no sense to me.”

Erica couldn’t manage to stifle the sigh a second time, not when faced with this dead horse of a topic her mother insisted upon beating. How many times could they go around about this? “He doesn’t make me travel, Mama. I’ve told you before. I enjoy this part of my career. I like the freedom.”

“Freedom.” Erica heard the inelegant snort across the line, a sure sign her mother was going to launch into the familiar refrain. “Don’t get used to that so-called freedom, baby—”

Erica began to mouth the words along with her mother, words to a speech she’d heard hundreds of times. She even pantomimed the finger wag she was sure her mother had going on the other end of the line.