We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. Brenda Novak
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Название: We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Автор: Brenda Novak
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Cherish
isbn: 9781408944509
isbn:
A Sampling of Praise for Brenda Novak
“What a wonderful love story…. An emotional, romantic journey you’ll not want to miss!”
—Rendezvous on Expectations
Brenda Novak’s “books are must-reads for those hopeless romantics among us.”
—Bestselling author Merline Lovelace
“In her first Superromance, Ms. Novak has given us a wonderfully warm story. This is a definite keeper!”
—AOL Writers’ Club Romance Group on Expectations
“…three-dimensional, very real characters with realistic problems. These characters touched my heart and had me reaching for the tissues.”
—Scribes World Reviews on Snow Baby
Brenda Novak’s “powerful storytelling voice sweeps the reader through a stormy past and a painful present, providing the novel with depth seldom matched in this genre…. I very highly recommend that you read Snow Baby.”
—Cindy Penn, WordWeaving
“Baby Business is a heart-wrencher with a knock-your-socks-off ending!…One thing is for sure: I know I never, ever want to miss a book by Brenda Novak.”
—Suzanne Coleman, The Belles and Beaux of Romance
“This one kept me turning the pages. A tautly written suspense plot, an interesting setting, well-drawn characters and an enjoyable romance.”
—Jean Mason, The Romance Reader on Dear Maggie
Dear Reader,
Sometimes we come to a point in life when we have to look honestly at our situation—and the decisions that have brought us to where we are—and face the fact that it isn’t where we want to be. Maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe someone else took the turn that threw us offtrack. Either way, changing requires a great deal of strength and determination. In We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, Jaclyn Wentworth is a woman who won’t settle. She digs deep inside herself for the courage to do what must be done, and as she grows in wisdom and confidence, she eventually finds what we all want most—love and happiness. I hope you enjoy her journey.
I’d love to hear from you. You can contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.brendanovak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out my book signings or learn about upcoming releases.
May we, like Jaclyn, find the courage to make the changes that are best for us!
Brenda Novak
P.S. Merry Christmas!
MILLS & BOON
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We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Brenda Novak
To my mother, LaVar Moffitt,
the inspiration for Jaclyn’s strength and spirit.
And to Ted Novak, my own self-made man.
Cole has nothing on him.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
THIS WAS IT, the absolute last straw. Jackie Wentworth couldn’t take any more.
Numb, she sat in her new Suburban, the engine idling, as she stared in sickened wonder at her husband’s 1997 Dodge Ram with its identifying Rodeo bumper stickers. She’d spent hours looking for him, worried when she’d returned home from her friend’s place in Utah a day early to find their bed, their entire section of his parents’ home, empty. Even though it was the middle of the night, she’d driven past his friends’ houses, his two sisters’ houses, and gone all the way out to Sand Mountain, his favorite weekend haunt.
But she’d been fooling herself, of course. His dune buggy, or “sand rail,” as they were now called, was still in the garage. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe the worst, at least not at first, not after all the counseling sessions and promises and hard-won confessions they’d been through—and finally, finally the forgiveness she’d managed to wring from her own heart.
What a waste. Jackie closed her eyes, hoping she’d see something different when she opened them again. But the scene was just the same. Her husband’s truck sat in the dimly lit parking lot of Maxine’s, one of the legalized houses of prostitution that stood neighborless in the barren desert just outside Feld, Nevada.
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