Candy Halliday - Driven To Distraction - Driven To Distraction / Winging It

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #81

Popular author Carol Finch takes us to Hoot’s Roost, Oklahoma, where there are quite a few single cowboys who don’t give a hoot about marryin’. But when two sexy city girls show up in town, that changes everything. Enjoy Carol’s funny, romantic Double Duets stories about The Bachelors of Hoot’s Roost—where love comes sweeping down the plain!

Duets Vol. #82

Delightful Tina Wainscott is back with another quirky Duets novel where the hero is driven to distraction by the gorgeous free-spirited heroine living next door! Tina tells “a charming story full of love and laughter,” says Rendezvous. Joining her in the volume is talented Candy Halliday with a story about a pilot hero who’s always winging it when it comes to relationships. It takes a special woman to bring this guy down to earth!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Driven to Distraction Driven to Distraction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Winging It

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

“Kiss what?” he asked. Stacy sure seemed to know how to fake a relationship on the spur of the moment.

“Each other, silly. On the lips.”

Oh.

Stacy continued, “We have to kiss each other later at the canned-food party. Just one kiss ought to do it. But it has to be a good one. Nita’s going to be the judge, but everyone’ll know if we’re just pretending.”

Barrett was desperate for their scheme to succeed, so asked, “What is the criterion for a good kiss? Duration? Amount of movement?”

She looked exasperated. “You can’t judge a kiss on those terms. What determines a good kiss is chemistry. It’s how great you feel, how totally lost in the moment you are.” She paused, searching for the right description. “It’s…it’s the swoon factor.”

Now, Barrett had been a scientist for a long time, and he’d heard many theories on many subjects, and though the thought of kissing Stacy was heating his Bunsen burner, he couldn’t help but ask, “The swoon factor?”

Dear Reader,

That’s right…take one woman who’s given up on ever finding romance—she’s going straight for the baby. Take one guy who’s a little too smart for his own good—he thinks romance is a study in science. And factor in a group of nosy busybodies who believe they know best—they’ll go to any length to make things work their way. Add an ugly dog, a lovesick maintenance guy, plenty of good intentions, and what you have is a wacky story of plans gone totally awry. Isn’t it just right that when you think you’ve finally figured out what you really want, life throws you a curveball?

I hope you enjoy Driven to Distraction!

Tina Wainscott

HARLEQUIN DUETS

34—THE WRONG MR. RIGHT

54—DAN ALL OVER AGAIN

This book is dedicated to the gals (and guy)of the Southwest Florida Romance Writers.May we always celebrate with chocolate and whine….

It’s also dedicated to my workout class in my second home of North Carolina. Despite “Moon River” and the battle hymns, you all are the greatest. Thanks for welcoming me in with open arms.

THE WOMAN NEXT DOOR was driving Barrett Wheeler to distraction, and he hadn’t even seen her. This was not a good thing since he had exactly seven days, one hour and four minutes to complete his research study for a grant on the mating habits and preservation of tree snails for the University of Miami. The university would then take the data and approach the government with a plan to preserve these important inhabitants of the Everglades.

He’d trudged through the swamps of Everglades National Park for a year, sure that he had finally found what he’d been seeking the last twelve years—the life goal his father had been haranguing him about since he’d graduated high school when he was fifteen. He was sure biology was what he should have gotten into in the first place. That’s where he belonged. But that’s what he’d thought when he’d undertaken course work in physics and mathematics, too. Now, though, he had his PhD and was satisfied with that. He was. He only needed to figure out what field of biology interested him and stick to it. Instead, he kept choosing different kinds of projects, hoping to find the one field that grabbed his interest permanently.

He did care about the plight of the endangered tree snail, and he always gave his all to whatever project he was working on. He was proud to be part of the effort to preserve the dwindling tree snails. Even if his mind was already wandering to the endangered seahorses. Or maybe survival aspects of the big cats in Africa.

Maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. He was ashamed to admit it, even to himself. He started a project with all kinds of interest and lost some of that steam along the way.

It wasn’t his mental meanderings that were hindering his progress on the tree snail study. First, there had been a mistake made on the due date of the study. Barrett had three weeks less than he’d planned on to complete his study. Then his sister, Kim, had shown up at his condominium with her husband and four kids needing a place to stay after the pipes in their house burst. That crisis was averted by a colleague’s offer. Since his parents were going on a cruise, Barrett could stay at their house in Sunset City, a retirement community. It sounded perfect. He’d stick to himself and complete his study with nothing but the occasional call of “Bingo!” to disturb the quiet.

At least in theory.

Sunset City wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned. It was, in fact, a small city, with a grid layout lined with cozy homes and quaint yards. A large community center and pool were situated in the middle of the city, and toward the front entrance was a small store and gas station. Instead of being a quiet, restful place, it bustled with activity. When he’d pulled in evening before last, he was nearly run down by a pack of women wearing T-shirts with bright pink flamingos who were doing a remarkably good imitation of a power walk. Instead of rocking chairs on the porches of the small, neat homes, there were three-wheeled bicycles and even a Harley. A yoga class was doing their moves in the park, striking storklike poses to Chubby Checker tunes. Three men were dismantling a classic Mustang’s engine under a covered driveway.

Well, the sign had said Older Persons Community, not a word about retirement. Still, no one should bother him here.

At least in theory.

Normally, his theories were sound. What he hadn’t factored in was the woman next door. Yesterday, he took his files and laptop computer onto the back porch after his morning jog to enjoy the gorgeous fall weather. Maybe reward himself with a dip in the small pool in the backyard if he were particularly productive. The yard was small and private, surrounded by thick, tall hedges. He settled in to work, fingers poised above the keyboard.