Roxann Delaney - The Truth About Plain Jane

“Howdy, ma’am.”

She jumped at his greeting and smacked her head on the door frame, causing him to wince. Running a hand through her short, mousy brown curls, she backed out of the car with care and turned. One corner of his mouth went up in a half smile as her bespectacled gaze moved from his boots up to his face.

But his smile froze before it reached the other side of his mouth when his gaze collided with hers. Behind huge owlish glasses were eyes as green as summer grass, surrounded by long dark lashes. Trey’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how long he stood staring into the emerald depths of her wide eyes. A thud at his dust-covered boot brought him back to his senses, and he looked down to see an overstuffed nylon bag at his feet.

“Let me—” he said, bending down to retrieve the tote.

“I can—” she said at the same time, whacking her head into his.

The blow brought him back to normal. He breathed in a sigh of relief that he’d broken contact with her hypnotic gaze.

Dear Reader,

When you’re stuffing the stockings this year remember that Silhouette Romance’s December lineup is the perfect complement to candy canes and chocolate! Remind your loved ones—and yourself—of the power of love.

Open your heart to magic with the third installment of IN A FAIRY TALE WORLD …, the miniseries where matchmaking gets a little help from an enchanted princess. In Her Frog Prince (SR #1746) Shirley Jump provides a rollicking good read with the antics of two opposites who couldn’t be more attracted!

Then meet a couple of heartbreaking cowboys from authors Linda Goodnight and Roxann Delaney. In The Least Likely Groom (SR #1747) Linda Goodnight brings us a risk-taking rodeo man who finds himself the recipient of lots of tender loving care—from one very special nurse! And Roxann Delaney pairs a beauty disguised as an ugly duckling with the man most likely to make her smolder, in The Truth About Plain Jane (SR #1748).

Last but not least, discover the explosive potential of close proximity as a big-city physician works side by side with a small-town beauty. Is it her wacky ideas that drive him crazy—or his sudden desire to make her his? Find out in Love Chronicles (SR #1749) by Lissa Manley.

Watch for more heartwarming titles in the coming year.

You don’t want to miss a single one!

Happy reading!

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Kathie, who always has faith in me and uses her size

5 to prove it. Thank you, Rosebud. And to the rest of the

Ditzy Chix—Belinda, Bron, Carol, Denise, Kristi,

Lindsey, Lisa, Marge, Mary and Roxanne—bless you all.

You’re the best.

Silhouette Romance

Rachel’s Rescuer #1509

A Saddle Made for Two #1533

A Whole New Man #1658

The Truth About Plain Jane #1748

ROXANN DELANEY

doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t reading or writing, and she always loved that touch of romance in both. A native Kansan, she’s lived on a farm, in a small town and has returned to live in the city where she was born. Her four daughters and grandchildren keep her busy when she isn’t writing, designing Web sites or planning her high school class reunions. The 1999 Maggie Award winner is thrilled to have followed the yellow brick road to the land of Silhouette Romance and loves to hear from readers. Contact her at roxann@roxanndelaney.com, or at P.O. Box 16606, Wichita, KS 67216-1104. Also be sure to visit her Web site at www.roxanndelaney.com.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Sinking onto the leather chair behind the massive oak desk that proclaimed him head honcho, Trey Brannigan ran a hand down his face. The day wasn’t over yet. Plenty of time for more to go wrong.

Now that he had all but one of the Triple B’s guests deposited and settled in their respective cabins, all he wanted was some peace and quiet. But the view from the office window of the rust-eaten Mustang coming up the drive was a sure sign that it wouldn’t happen until he’d settled the last of his guests.

Shoving himself from the chair, he headed outside to greet the latecomer. As he descended the wide steps of the ranch house porch and made his way to the parking area, he was subjected to the sight of a flower-covered backside at the open rear door of the ancient car.

Trey smiled to himself. It only stood to reason that the latecomer was a woman. Women were good for a lot of things, but one thing was certain—they were inevitably late.

He chuckled to himself as he neared the tardy female. Her taste in clothes left a lot to be desired. Neon green, orange and yellow flowers danced invitingly before him as she wrestled with something in the back seat of her car. The sight would have been enticing if it hadn’t been for the blinding colors.

“Howdy, ma’am.”

She jumped at his greeting and smacked her head on the door frame, causing him to wince. Rubbing a head of short, mousy brown curls, she backed out of the car with care and turned. One corner of his mouth went up in a half-smile as her bespectacled gaze moved from his boots up to his face.

But his smile froze before it reached the other side of his mouth when his gaze collided with hers. Behind huge owlish glasses were eyes as green as summer grass, surrounded by long dark lashes. Trey’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know how long he stood staring into the emerald depths of her wide eyes. A thud at his dust-covered boot brought him back to his senses, and he looked down to see an overstuffed nylon bag at his feet.

“Let me—” he said, bending down to retrieve the tote.

“I can—” she said at the same time, whacking her head into his.

The blow brought him back to normal. He breathed in a sigh of relief that he’d broken contact with her hypnotic gaze. The scent of a summer garden drifted toward him. Intoxicating. Still bent over, he took a step back and was brought to a halt by the open car door. Grabbing the bag, he straightened, shaking his head to clear it from an unaccustomed buzzing sound, and glanced up at her.

She shoved the bridge of her glasses up with delicate fingers that trembled. “I—I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said, making sure he didn’t look directly into her eyes. Sidestepping around her, he reached inside the car for two suitcases that were propped on the seat. “You must be M. Chastain,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled the luggage out of the car and set it at his feet.

“My, uh, trunk lock is broken.” Her tone was apologetic, and she quickly moved out of his way when he swung around to face her.

He simply nodded, avoiding a direct hit from her eyes, and then gestured with another nod in the direction of the cabins. Stuffing the tote they’d knocked heads over under his arm, he picked up her other suitcases and led the way. “You’re in number four.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He slid a look at her as she caught up with him, baffled by his reaction to her. It was hard to tell what was under her colorful outfit. Her flowered skirt hung loosely almost to her ankles, and even those were hidden by neon orange socks. The green top she wore was baggy, without even a suggestion of womanly curves beneath. Which was fine with him.

Stepping up onto the tiny cabin porch, Trey set down one suitcase to reach for the door. “What’s the M for?” he asked.

“Um… Margaret.”