Nan Dixon - The Other Twin

Who can resist a neighbor in need?

Nathan Forester doesn’t know the first thing about kids. So when the daughter he never knew existed arrives on his doorstep, he needs help, fast! His unlikely ally is next-door neighbor and single mother Cheryl Henshaw. Nathan and Cheryl don’t exactly see eye to eye, but neither can say no to a helping hand.

Renovating Fitzgerald House is Nathan’s chance to finally prove he’s no longer the unreliable twin—and it seems possible with Cheryl by his side. Suddenly their practical arrangement has become something much more. Trust isn’t easy, but they’re stronger when they work together.

Nathan nodded, rubbing at the ache in his chest.

“I can’t screw up,” he said.

“You’ll figure everything out.” Pop slapped him on the back. “Just like we did.”

He couldn’t do this alone. He wasn’t prepared.

There had to be someone else he could tap to take care of Isabella.

He thought back to the women he’d dated in Savannah. There was Tracie, but she could barely take care of herself. Gabby—aptly named since she talked everyone’s ear off—was kind of an airhead. A nice airhead, but still not right.

He’d never been attracted to the motherly types.

The only mother he knew was...Cheryl. And they lived next door to each other.

He released a deep breath. Cheryl.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Fitzgerald House. Cheryl is finally getting her happily-ever-after.

I found the perfect man for Cheryl, but she didn’t agree. Nathan’s too big, too nonchalant and drinks too much. He’s a terrible role model for Josh, her six-year-old son.

Dyslexic Nathan believes he’s flawed. What’s worse, his twin brother is perfect. Nathan doesn’t let people get close, because then they will find out he’s stupid (he’s not). Nathan avoids kids, because second graders can read better than he can. So when he finds out he’s the father of four-year-old Isabella, he begs Cheryl for help.

On a flight last January, I sat next to a man who discovered he was dyslexic in sixth grade. Before that, he felt stupid. He willingly answered my questions. Do you forget names of lifetime friends? Yes. Do you have trouble with driving directions? Absolutely. He also told me his brain visualizes in 3-D. Amazing. I hope I captured what life as a dyslexic person is like.

I love hearing from readers. Contact me through my website, www.nandixon.com, where you can sign up for my newsletter. You can find me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/nandixonauthor. If you’d like to see the pictures that inspire me, check out my Pinterest page, www.Pinterest.com/nandixonauthor. The princess castle Nathan paints for his daughter is there.

Enjoy Savannah!

Nan Dixon

The Other Twin

Nan Dixon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NAN DIXONspent her formative years as an actress, singer, dancer and competitive golfer. But the need to eat had her studying accounting in college. Unfortunately, being a successful financial executive didn’t feed her passion to perform. When the pharmaceutical company she worked for was purchased, Nan got the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to pursue a writing career. She’s a five-time Golden Heart® finalist, lives in the Midwest and is active in her local RWA chapter and on the board of a dance company. She has five children, three sons-in-law, two grandchildren, one grandchild on the way and one neurotic cat.

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To Mom and Dad always.

To my wonderful, fabulous family, thank you for supporting my writing. I’m dedicating this one to my guys: Nicholas, Matthew and my three incredible sons-in-law, Dan, Joe and John. I know you make my daughters happy. And of course the bright lights—Lily and Harper and grandchild #3!

Thank you to my Harlequin team: Megan Long, Victoria Curran, Piya Campana, Deirdre McCluskey and the wonderful group who help bring my books into reality. And of course, my fabulous agent, Laura Bradford. I appreciate your guidance, wisdom, humor and tweets!

My critique group challenges me to dig deeper. Thank you, Ann Hinnenkamp, Leanne Farella, Neroli Lacey and Kathryn Kohorst. And my Golden Heart sisters keep me sane—Dreamcatchers, Lucky 13s, Starcatchers and the Unsinkables. And my writing community—MFW, you’re the best.

And last—this book is for the group that started it all—my sisters. Mo, Sue and Trish.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“WE LIVE IN an apartment,” Cheryl said. “We can’t have a puppy.”

“Mom, I’d take care of it.” Josh’s pleading brown eyes were hard to deny. “I promise.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“We can move.” He tugged on her shorts. “All my friends live in houses. They all have dogs.”

“Not all your friends have dogs.”

Dogs were expensive. Where would she find the money to feed one?

Josh’s chin jutted out, reminding her of his father. When Brad had died in Afghanistan their lives had imploded. Now she and Josh lived in Savannah barely making it.

She wanted a better life for her son. That meant finding a better job, which meant training. Culinary school cost money.

Waiting to cross Bay Street, Cheryl switched the box she carried to her other hand and caught Josh’s arm. Mid-May and the temperature, along with tourist traffic, had soared. At Fitzgerald House, where she worked, all the rooms were full. She’d been lucky the day she’d found their ad for maid service. Now she cooked more than cleaned at the B and B.

Once she and Josh crossed Bay Street, he pulled away and ran to the River Street steps.

“Slow down! Hang on to the railing.” She sped up, not wanting to lose sight of his blond hair. “Josh!”

As she descended, the brackish scent of the river mingled with the aroma of onions and hot oil from nearby restaurants. Tourists clogged River Street checking out the shops and pubs.

Josh disappeared.

Her heart pounded. Six months ago he’d rarely left her side. Her life had been easier when he’d still been afraid.

Up ahead, she spotted a flash of blond hair as Josh stumbled on River Street’s flagstones. When they got to the apartment, they would have a long talk about safety.

She broke into a run, jostling a man as he exited a bar. The scent of bourbon washed over her. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, pretty lady,” he called. “Slow down. I’ll buy you a drink.”

She shuddered. Not in this lifetime.

She caught Josh as he stared into the candy shop.

“Don’t run off.” She grabbed his hand, panting from her rush. “I couldn’t see you.”