Kasey Michaels - Maitland Maternity - Triplets, Quads and Quints

There’s nothing more precious than a tiny new arrival…

You’re invited to celebrate the opening of the new McCallum Multiple Birth Wing at the Maitland Maternity Hospital—where romances are born, secrets are revealed and multiple bundles of joy are delivered!

Five heart-warming stories from five favourite authors.

We’re proud to present

A chance to buy collections of bestselling novels by favourite authors every month—they’re back by popular demand!

April 2010 The Ashtons: Jillian, Eli & Charlotte

Featuring

Just a Taste by Bronwyn Jameson Awaken the Senses by Nalini Singh Estate Affair by Sara Orwig

Maitland Maternity: Triplets, Quads & Quints

Featuring

Triplet Secret Babies by Judy Christenberry Quadruplets on the Doorstep by Tina Leonard Great Expectations by Kasey Michaels Delivered with a Kiss by Mindy Neff And Babies Make Seven by Mary Anne Wilson

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By

Judy Christenberryhas been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full time. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favourite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, but now lives in Arizona.

Her head was beating like a bass drum during a pep rally. Briana McCallum stared at the shelf of pain relievers in the New York deli she’d found a block from the hotel, feeling lucky to have found it open after midnight.

There it was! Her favorite relief for headaches. She grabbed it and then took a soda from the refrigerated shelf nearby and hurried to the cash register.

She was digging through her purse when the clerk said, “You give me your money.”

“Yes, I’m looking for it,” she assured him, her head down as she dug through her bag for her billfold.

“No, all your money,” he returned harshly.

She looked up to find herself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed directly at her.

“What—” she began, confused, when the outer door opened and another customer arrived. Relief poured through her. She wasn’t alone with the wacko anymore. The pistol swung away from her to the new arrival.

“You come. Give me money,” the clerk ordered.

The new arrival, a handsome man in a tuxedo, his tie untied, stared in surprise. “What’s going on?”

He looked at Briana for an explanation. “I think he’s planning on robbing us,” she said.

“I go home now. I need money,” the clerk said, as if that explained everything.

“Home to—?” the man asked.

“India. My mother sick. I go home. Give me money.”

After a dead silence, the man behind the counter began shifting, swinging the gun between the two of them, and Briana grew more nervous. “I—I don’t have a lot of money.” She pulled out about sixty dollars and laid it on the counter. “That’s all I have with me.”

“Now you,” the clerk said, scooping up the money and looking at the man.

With reluctance, the man pulled out his wallet from his back pants pocket. He took the cash out and laid it on the counter. Then he tucked his wallet away. “That’s all I’ve got.”

It was considerably more than Briana carried with her.

But she was distracted from thinking about that. The clerk came around the counter and gestured for them to go to the back of the store. Was he going to shoot them before he left? She didn’t want to die, not when her dream was just coming true. Not when she’d finally achieved—

“Go!” the clerk shouted, becoming more agitated.

The man put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently in front of him, keeping himself between her and the gun. A very protective gesture. One her brother Caleb would approve of. As did she.

They reached the back of the store and the clerk shoved open a door that said Employees Only. It was dark, not a large area, and she was reluctant to go in. Suddenly the man fell into her and she fell to her knees on the concrete floor. She heard a loud slamming noise and everything went black.

She thought she’d passed out, but she was still awake. Then she realized the door behind them had been slammed shut and there was no light.

“Are you okay?” the deep voice of the other customer asked. His hands found her shoulders again and he half lifted her to her feet.

“Yes, just bruised,” she said softly. “Are we—”

“Locked in.” He turned her loose and took a step back. In the darkness she felt abandoned.

Then a bright light came on.

She stared around her before her gaze returned to her companion. He’d found the light switch by the door and turned it on. She was grateful. Nothing seemed quite so bad when there was light.

“Thank you. I’m glad we’re not left in the dark.”

“I guess. But the accommodations aren’t too posh.”

She couldn’t argue with that assessment. They were in a small storeroom, the shelves packed with food items from floor to ceiling. The only piece of furniture was a sturdy stool, dingy white in color.

“At least we’re alive,” Briana pointed out. “I’ve heard of too many of these robberies where the witnesses were killed.”

“Yeah. I guess since he’s leaving the country, he doesn’t think we can hurt him.” The man prowled the storeroom, pacing from one end to the other. “I tried the door. I don’t think I can force it open.”

“Won’t we be okay? I mean, someone will come in to relieve him after a while, won’t they? If we just wait, he’ll let us out.”

The man looked at his watch. “Probably at seven, six if we’re lucky. Which means we have about five and half hours in this hellhole.”

She noticed his watch was a Rolex, which went well with his tux. Obviously not a man down on his luck. “Um, are you from New York?” she asked.

“No. Say, you don’t happen to have a cell phone, do you?” He turned and stared at her, his blue-eyed gaze enough to convince Briana to tell him the truth and nothing but.

“Yes, but I didn’t bring it with me. I didn’t think I’d need it in New York City.”

“Me, neither.” He began pacing again. After a minute, he said, “Obviously you’re not from New York, either.”

“No, Texas.”

“Ah. I’m from Chicago. The name’s Hunter.” He stuck out a large hand with slim strong fingers, a hand almost artistic in appearance except for its size.