Dianne Drake - Lady And The Scamp - Lady And The Scamp / The Doctor Dilemma

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

Duets Vol. #57

Popular Jill Shalvis serves up a delightful duo—the disaster-prone Anderson twins and the sexy men they meet!—in a humorous special Double Duets! Rendezvous says this author is “fast, fanciful and funny. Get ready for laughs, passion and toe-curling romance.”

Duets Vol. #58

Two talented new writers make their Duets debut this month. Look for Candy Halliday’s playful romp about a bad boy who has a soft spot for his pooch—and the gorgeous dog owner next door! Then nurse-turned-writer Dianne Drake will tickle your funny bone and send temperatures rising with a fun story about a small-town medical practice.

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Lady and the Scamp Lady and the Scamp

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

The Doctor Dilemma

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Dumbfounded, Cassie almost dropped the phone. “You, Mr. Hardin, have to be the most arrogant, insufferable man I’ve ever met.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Nick agreed, “but you’re the one who said we had a problem to solve. I’m just suggesting we settle things over a bottle of wine and a sensible conversation.”

“Oh, I’m sure you handle all your problems with a bottle of wine and a sensual conversation…”

“I said sensible conversation,” Nick corrected.

Cassie ignored him. “I left Duchess with the vet earlier, but we won’t know for a few weeks if she’s going to have puppies.”

“Then what?” Nick quizzed.

“Then you can save yourself a lot of trouble and pay for the damage your mutt caused, or we can go to court.”

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you, Counselor?”

“What do you think?” Cassie challenged.

He laughed. “Lady I think if you’d let nature take its course the way your fancy show dog did, you’d have a much better outlook on life.”

Dear Reader,

You might say I’m living proof that love has a lighter side. I met my husband on a blind date to, of all things, a Halloween party. Dressed as a punk rocker with purple streaks in my hair, who knew I’d meet the man of my dreams? His incredible sense of humor overlooked my ridiculous costume and two years later we walked down the aisle. This time, however, I had baby’s breath—not purple streaks—in my hair.

A big fan of romantic comedy even before my own personal episode, I got the idea for Lady and the Scamp while watching a telecast of the Westminster Dog Show. The Best In Show winner was all puff and fluff and the poor trainer was having a terrible time keeping her away from the big red-bone hound who won runner-up. “Don’t you know the trainer would have a fit if those two got together?” my husband asked, and by the time we both stopped laughing, the story was already forming in my head.

I had such fun writing Lady and the Scamp. I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

Best Wishes,

Candy Halliday

I owe special thanks to my husband, Steve, for putting up with the crazy life of a writer. I also owe special thanks to my agent, Jenny Bent, and my editor, Susan Sheppard, for believing in me.

This book is dedicated to my wonderful daughter, Shelli, who has always been the pride of my heart and the joy of my life.

CASSIE COLLINS STIFLED a groan as her perfectly groomed mother paced dramatically around the foyer in a full-blown snit. “I still think your father and I should postpone our trip to Europe entirely,” Lenora Collins said with a pout. “The three of us have been taking family vacations together since you were born, and I certainly don’t like the idea of leaving you behind to supervise something as important as seeing Duchess mated to the proper sire.”

Cassie looked down at the pampered pooch she was holding in her arms and absently stroked the dog’s soft white fur. Her mother’s champion bichon frise had finally offered Cassie the perfect excuse to forgo the dreaded family vacation from hell, and Cassie didn’t intend to give in without putting up a fight.

“You were the one who said it would be too traumatic to leave Duchess with a total stranger at a delicate time like this, Mother,” Cassie said. “I know you were counting on Duchess’s trainer to handle everything, but emergencies do come up. All we can do now is make the best of it.”

Lenora made several phony kissing noises toward the recent winner of the prestigious Westminster Dog Show, then again pursed her lips in a surly pout. “Well, I can assure you of one thing. If Duchess’s trainer thinks I’m going to forget the trouble he’s caused us, then he’s sadly mistaken. As far as I’m concerned, it was totally unprofessional of him to leave us in the lurch like this.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “I hardly think having an acute attack of appendicitis qualifies as being unprofessional, Mother,” Cassie argued. “Besides, you’ve already paid an enormous fee to see that Duchess is bred to a champion sire and the breeder arrives from London next week. It’s only logical that I stay behind and handle matters here.”

“Cassie’s right, Lenora,” Howard Collins chimed in as he picked up the last of their luggage and headed through the foyer. “Our daughter didn’t graduate magna cum laude from law school for nothing. She’s perfectly capable of handling things here.”

Lenora Collins snorted at her husband’s statement, then shot another dubious look in Cassie’s direction. “Well, at least promise me you’ll be careful, Cassandra. I can’t say I’m not equally concerned about you being here alone with a hoodlum living right down the street. There’s no telling what a man like that might be capable of doing. Lock your doors and keep the security system on at all times.”

Cassie sighed. Her mother was, of course, referring to their incorrigible new neighbor who had scandalized their exclusive neighborhood from the moment he’d arrived. A cross between Howard Stern and TV’s Frasier, the outspoken radio talk-show host had refused to conform to any of the genteel southern traditions most people in Asheville, North Carolina, still held sacred. To date, Nick Hardin had been banned from the country club, thrown off the golf course and had even been levied a heavy fine for parking his monstrous Harley-Davidson motorcycle on the country club’s manicured lawn.

“I don’t care for Nick Hardin any more than you do, Mother,” Cassie said, “but I hardly think the man is a rapist.”

“Well, one never knows,” Lenora argued in her usual authoritative voice. “Especially since that horrid man could be harboring a grudge against you. You really were foolish to call in to that disgraceful program of his and make a complaint, Cassandra.”

That’s right, Mother, Cassie thought. Make sure you deliver at least one more reprimand before you leave.

Not that Cassie didn’t regret her own lapse in judgment, because she did. She usually let the standard jokes that attacked her noble profession roll off her back. But it had been one particular lawyer-of-the-day joke on Nick Hardin’s radio program that had pushed Cassie over the edge. Stating on the air that “the only difference between a lawyer and a vulture was that a vulture waits until you die to pick your bones clean” had, in Cassie’s opinion, taken things a bit too far. She had called in to the popular morning radio program and politely suggested that Mr. Hardin do a little research on what was considered humorous and what was considered in bad taste.