Harlequin Superromance November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2, page 1
Harlequin Superromance November 2013 – Bundle 2 of 2
Adventures in Parenthood
That Reckless Night
The Moment of Truth
Dawn Atkins
Kimberly Van Meter
Tara Taylor Quinn
Harlequin Superromance brings you three new novels for one great price, available now for a limited time only from November 1 to November 30! Experience powerful relationships that deliver a strong emotional punch and a guaranteed happily ever after. This Harlequin Superromance bundle includes Adventures in Parenthood by Dawn Atkins, That Reckless Night by Kimberly Van Meter and The Moment of Truth by Tara Taylor Quinn.
Enjoy more story and more romance from Harlequin Superromance with 6 new novels every month!
Table of Contents
Adventures in Parenthood
By Dawn Atkins
That Reckless Night
By Kimberly Van Meter
The Moment of Truth
By Tara Taylor Quinn
Forget Everest…parenting is a real challenge
There aren’t many adventures Aubrey Hanson hasn’t tried. But parenthood and domestic duties are definitely not for her. Then her twin nieces are orphaned and suddenly Aubrey needs those skills! There’s one problem—their gorgeous uncle, Dixon Carter.
Officially, he’s their guardian and he wants Aubrey involved, just not in charge. Unofficially…well, the spark that caused their almost night together still simmers. In fact, it’s threatening to get out of control and disrupt raising the twins. Aubrey and Dixon can’t keep the attraction a secret forever. So they need to figure out how to be together…with kids!
Dixon pulled Aubrey into his arms
“There’s no point in beating yourself up about the past.” He held her in the dimly lit hallway, wanting to press comfort into her bones. Maybe somehow they could comfort each other enough to wipe away the grief.
She let him hold her for a few seconds, but she didn’t relax a muscle. “I dread leaving here, having to say goodbye.”
“I know.” He dreaded seeing her go—for himself as well as the girls. They wouldn’t accept Aubrey’s absence easily…and he wasn’t sure he would, either.
She leaned back to look at him, her eyes piercing even through her tears. “There’s no way to make this easy, is there?”
“Not that I can see, no.” Words gathered in his throat. Don’t go. Stay here. Help me with the girls, especially Sienna. Be with us. Be with me.
He couldn’t say that. She had a life far from here. They’d made a solid plan. They’d both be better off sticking with it. Even though letting her go now might be the hardest thing he’d done in a long time.
Dear Reader,
Before I had my son, I wasn’t sure I would make a good mother. Like Aubrey, I didn’t think I was that maternal. I was focused on my career, for one thing, but, really, kids seemed so fragile to me. There seemed to be so many things I could screw up. I figured motherhood was better left to those more naturally inclined…or at least more intrepid than I.
But Aubrey’s sister Briana had it right: Maternal is as maternal does… You learn together.
That was certainly true in my case. That didn’t make parenthood any less difficult or scary. When we had our son, my husband said the words that Howard says in this book about his baby daughters: Why would we bring into the world someone whose pain we’ll feel more strongly than our own? Why indeed?
Out of love and hope. And that was how Aubrey decides to take on parenthood in her ready-made family. Dixon’s already made that decision, but there are things he can learn from Aubrey about handling emotions and trusting his own heart.
The pair of them have quite a journey to their happily ever after. It involves climbing mountains, kayaking rapids, zip-lining canyons and running obstacle courses. They make it, but not without troubles. From their adventure, they learn that beauty can come from tragedy and grief can bring a greater love for those we’ve lost. As Aubrey tells her nieces, the person who died lives on in our hearts and in our minds and that is a tremendous comfort, I’ve found.
This story moved me as I wrote it. It touches on so many issues and feelings that I hold dear. I hope it touches your life, too, and offers you insights, a smile and makes you hug your loved ones just a little closer afterward.
All my best,
Dawn Atkins
ADVENTURES IN PARENTHOOD
Dawn Atkins
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Dawn Atkins has written more than twenty-five romances for Harlequin. Known for her funny, sexy, poignant stories, she’s won a Golden Quill Award for hot romance and has been a several-times RT Reviewers’ Choice Award finalist. Dawn lives in Arizona with her husband and son, who taught her all about the adventure of parenthood. Contact her through her website at www.dawnatkins.com.
Books by Dawn Atkins
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1671—A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS
1683—HOME TO HARMONY
1729—THE BABY CONNECTION
1753—HIS BROTHER’S KEEPER
1809—THE NEW HOPE CAFÉ
1841—BACK WHERE SHE BELONGS
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
253—DON’T TEMPT ME…
294—WITH HIS TOUCH
306—AT HER BECK AND CALL
318—AT HIS FINGERTIPS
348—SWEPT AWAY
391—NO STOPPING NOW
432—HER SEXIEST SURPRISE
456—STILL IRRESISTIBLE
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
To the Now and Then Book Group
You teach me more about what makes a book good every time we meet
Contents
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
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU SAVED MY family.” The grateful client grabbed Dixon Carter into a bear hug. Rattled, Dixon managed a back pat or two, hoping that did the trick. Emotional stuff threw him.
“We just gave you some advice, Eric. You earned the job.” A laid-off auto tech, with an ill wife and two young boys, Eric had recently secured a job with the city, thanks to the help he’d gotten at Bootstrap Academy.
“You gave me the guts to apply,” Eric insisted. “You taught me how to interview, what to say on my résumé. You got me the leads.”
The man had tears in his eyes. Tears.
Dixon blinked back the moisture in his own eyes, pride making his chest burn. We do good work. “That’s why we’re here.”
Dixon sometimes got so caught up in the business side of the agency he forgot the rewards. Bootstrap Academy was a last-chance job-training and placement agency in Phoenix. The place was his brother Howard’s dream, and Dixon had been privileged to help bring it to life a year ago.
“All I know is that if it weren’t for this place, my boys wouldn’t be stepping off the bus next fall with new backpacks, new sneaks and snack money burning holes in their pockets,” Eric said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Tell them your story.” He nodded toward the new clients in a meeting room down the hall. “That’s all the thanks we need.” Ideally, Eric would give hope to the men and women who’d been beaten down by economic hard knocks or their own mistakes.
“Thank your brother and his wife for me, too.”
“Absolutely. They get back tonight.” Howard and Brianna had taken a vacation to celebrate their fifth anniversary—their first trip away from their girls. Dixon was watching the four-year-old twins—and counting down the hours until their parents returned.
Not that he didn’t love the girls. He adored them. But adding them to his own work, plus what couldn’t be put off of Howard’s, had been tough. Single parents deserved medals. Dixon would like a family one day, but not until he stopped putting in sixty-hour weeks here.
Oh, and found a woman to have one with.
Howard and Brianna were due back before the girls’ bedtime, thank God. Dixon hadn’t yet performed the elaborate night rituals to Sienna’s satisfaction. Ginger was more tenderhearted, but a challenge in her own way.
Eric headed for the workshop, and Dixon saw his assistant barreling down the hall toward him. “What’s up, Maggie?” he asked.
She nodded across the lobby to the small shop where they sold donated business clothes. “Tonya’s about to lose her nerve with the interview.”
Dixon backed up so Maggie could beeline for the young woman dressed in cutoffs and a tank top, who was glancing from a rack of blazers toward the exit door, ready to bolt. When Maggie reached her, sh
Maggie had uncanny people instincts. She gave pep talks without being condescending, help without pity, support without being pushy. Tonya would walk out today with more confidence, a business suit and bus fare, if that’s what she needed.
The smallest gesture could change everything for their clients. A smile, a word of praise, a phone call—all could be a lifeline for someone about to go down for good.
Maggie had been one of their first clients. Howard had wanted to hire a social worker, but Dixon had had a feeling about Magdalena Ortiz. And he’d been right. Dixon wasn’t used to trusting his feelings. Facts and figures were predictable. People not so much. People were the whole show around here, though, so Dixon often found himself at sea.
Checking his watch, Dixon sprinted for his office. He had twenty minutes to finish and send the email to the foundation before he had to get his nieces from gymnastics. Late pickups were not tolerated, according to Brianna. What are they going to do? Put me in time-out?
Dropping into his chair, Dixon pulled up his draft of the intent-to-apply email due by five today. It looked good. Complete. He clicked Send, hoping he wasn’t too bleary to judge. They had to win this grant if the agency was going to survive another year.
He’d been up half the night finishing the app. He’d laid out a convincing argument, based on Bootstrap’s high success rate, efficient operation and range of services. Today he’d tried to bring it to life by weaving in the client stories Howard and Brianna had given him. Howard had been a social worker for seventeen years before starting Bootstrap. His wife Brianna had been a high school teacher. Now she ran their workshops and basic skills program.
The stories were heart-wrenching. They fired Dixon up, kept him awake nights hunting down grants, looking for more ways to help. Dixon had found the building and negotiated a killer lease, but money was always tight. Coming from business, Dixon had been shocked at what non-profits went through for modest bucks. Banks were stingy, grant entities required endless paperwork and sources dried up all the time.
A shriek of laughter rose from down the hall, where they provided child care for clients and staff—including his nieces—reminding Dixon he had to run and fetch them at gymnastics.
He was about to get up when the intercom clicked, and the receptionist spoke. “I’m sorry, Dixon, but there’s an urgent call.” Something in her voice put him on alert, every muscle tense. “It’s a doctor. Calling from Reno.”
Reno? Reno was near Tahoe, where Brianna and Howard had been staying. Except, they should be on the road by now. Electricity shot through Dixon like the zing of a sudden cavity.
Don’t panic. It might be nothing. “Send it through.”
Let it be minor. Let it be a mistake.
He picked up the line the instant it rang. “This is Dixon Carter.” He held his breath, reined in his alarm.
“You’re related to Howard Carter?”
Something’s wrong.
“He’s my brother, yes. Did something happen?” He kept his voice level and steady. Whatever it was, he’d need to stay calm.
“This is Dr. Finson, Reno Regional Hospital. I’m sorry to tell you that your brother and his wife were involved in a highway accident.”
“Are they okay?” No, they’re not. He heard it in the man’s hesitation, his grave tone.
The doctor inhaled sharply before answering. “I’m afraid their injuries were too massive. They died on the scene.”
“No!” The word exploded from him. No, no, no. It can’t be. It’s a mistake. Howard can’t be dead. Or Brianna. No. Not possible. He fell against the headrest and his chair rolled back, as if to escape the news. This can’t be true. They can’t be dead. It’s their anniversary. There’s a party Saturday.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Carter,” the doctor said. His voice was hard to hear over Dixon’s muddled thoughts. “They suffered fractured cervical vertebrae, so death was likely instantaneous. I’m going to transfer you to a liaison who’ll talk over transportation arrangements.”
“Transportation arrangements?” The hospital had a travel agent? They’d get him a flight, a rental car?
“For the bodies,” the doctor said. He sounded young. A resident likely. Maybe he’d gotten the patient names wrong. They made mistakes at busy hospitals, right?
Dixon opened his mouth to ask for proof, for a second opinion, anything, but he was put on hold. His brain was moving through sludge. Howard was dead. Brianna, too. Killed on the highway. They lay in a hospital morgue, their bodies broken. Oh, God.
Waiting, he fumbled in his desk drawer for a pen, finally seeing the one on top of the yellow pad where he kept a running list of to-do items, some checked, some not. Insanely, he mentally added a task: bury your brother and his wife.
The social worker who came on the line was kind. She spoke slowly, waited for his questions after each piece of information. His mouth felt rubbery as he talked, and her voice came to him as if from underwater. She told him to contact a Phoenix mortuary, which would make arrangements with one in Reno to prepare the bodies and fly them home. Prepare the bodies...fly them home. The words were tiny bombs exploding in his brain.
She gave him her number if he had more questions. “Will you be all right? Do you have family nearby?”
“I’m fine. No one nearby. My mother’s away.” He’d have to reach her on the cruise ship in Europe. She would know how to reach his father, who’d skipped out when Dixon was ten. But Dixon wasn’t close to his mother. His family consisted of Howard and Brianna and Sienna and Ginger. Sienna and Ginger!
He had to pick them up. His gaze shot to the clock on his desk. He’d be fifteen minutes late if he left right now. “I need to go. I’ll call if I have questions.” He jumped up, sending his chair crashing to the wall behind him and lunged for the door, patting his pocket for the keys to Howard’s SUV. They’d asked him to drive the girls in it instead of Dixon’s Subaru WRX since the SUV was built like a tank. Howard and Brianna had taken their sedan to Tahoe. Maybe if they’d had the SUV they would have survived the crash...
Too late. Too late. They’re gone. He ran for the door. Maggie, two of the social workers, and Ben, a Bootstrap graduate they’d hired as a handyman, huddled around the reception desk. “What happened?” Maggie asked Dixon.
“Brianna and Howard were in a car wreck. Killed. They’re gone.” The words hit his ears like blows. He noticed he was trembling. The women gasped, faces shocked. Maggie covered her mouth with her hands.
“I have to get the girls. Cancel the United Way lunch, Maggie. Hold down the fort as best you can. I’ll call when I’m able to. Ben, finish the shelves in the career center, then wire the computers.”
He jumped in the SUV, squealed out of the lot and gunned the engine, wishing for his WRX with its turbo boosters. He leaned over the steering wheel as if that would get him there faster.
Sienna and Ginger, those two sweet girls, were orphans.
Bile rose in his throat and his vision grayed. He twisted the steering wheel, swallowed hard. He didn’t have time to get upset.
The girls were probably freaked enough that he hadn’t arrived. How would he tell them what had happened? When? Not right off. Not until he figured out the right way.
Grief tugged at him, dragging him down, breaking him in two. He fought to stay clear, to keep going, to do what had to be done. Get the girls, feed them, find a funeral home, reach his mother—would her cell phone work at sea or would he have to ask the cruise line to contact her?
He had to call Brianna’s twin sister, Aubrey, too. Aubrey was Brianna’s only family, as far as Dixon knew. Their mother had died when they’d barely graduated high school. Breast cancer, he thought. He didn’t know the story on their father, who wasn’t in the picture. Where would he get Aubrey’s number?
Probably from the stapled pages of instructions Brianna had left with details about the girls’ food preferences, their schedule, what they needed in their backpacks for Bootstrap, the babysitter next door, plus a list of emergency contact numbers—a plumber, an electrician, several neighbors, the pediatrician. At the time the list seemed to be overkill. Who would ever need any of that?
