Wanted: Christmas Mummy. Judy Christenberry

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      “Do you think Daddy’s ever going to find us a mommy?”

      Justin sighed. “He didn’t even like that picture.” His voice sank to a whisper. “Was she really naked?”

      “Naw,” Gareth assured his twin. “She was wearing a swimsuit or something. But girls sure are different from us.”

      “If Daddy doesn’t like looking at girls, how will he ever find us a mommy?”

      With the wisdom of a five-year-old, Gareth explained, “He’s trying to find a housekeeper and nanny instead.”

      “But Moss said no one answered that ad. But when Moss changed the ad to one for a wife, then ‘every bloomin’ female in the county wrote a letter.’” He mimicked the man’s drawl.

      “But if Daddy doesn’t like ’em, it doesn’t matter. We need someone to help us, someone who’ll give us what we ask for.”

      “Hey!” Justin beamed, excitement filling his voice. “We can ask Santa…. He’ll give us a mama for Christmas!”

      Wanted: Christmas Mommy

      Judy Christenberry

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      JUDY CHRISTENBERRY

      Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for more than eighteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. A former French teacher, Judy now devotes herself to writing full-time. She hopes readers have as much fun with her stories as she does.

      She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy lives in Texas. You can find out more about Judy and her books at www.judychristenberry.com.

      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

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      “Any luck?”

      Doug Graybow had been scowling into his beer when one of his neighbors settled into the chair across from him. “Nope,” he admitted. “I’ve been running the ad for three or four weeks now, and I haven’t had a single applicant.”

      “What are you gonna do?” Ben Anderson asked.

      “About what?” another neighbor, Will Jacks, asked as he joined them. They’d all just left the Ranchers’ Association monthly meeting in the back room of the Riverside Café and, as was custom, were settling in for a few beers with their neighbors.

      “Doug, here, has been advertising for a housekeeper to replace Agnes. She and Rocky retired to Arizona, you know.”

      “Oh, yeah, I heard that. And you haven’t had any luck?” Will asked.

      “Nope,” Doug repeated, weariness in his tone as well as his posture.

      “Man, those holy terrors of yours must be driving you crazy,” Will said with a grin.

      Doug didn’t bother to defend his progeny. No one would believe him. The five-year-old twins had been bad enough with Agnes to corral them. Since she’d packed her bags and headed south, they’d been impossible.

      Ben smacked his hand down on the table, startling both his companions. “Damn it, man, you’re advertising for the wrong thing!”

      “What are you talking about?” Doug wondered if his friend had already imbibed several beers before joining him.

      “You should be advertising for a wife. That’s what you need. Not a housekeeper. Housekeepers leave, but a wife will put up with anything if you cuddle her a little and buy her something pretty every once in a while.”

      Ben grinned as if he’d just made a major discovery, and Will nodded in agreement.

      Doug frowned at him, irritation in his every bone. “First of all, if that’s the way you’re treating Meggy, I hope she throws you out on your ear. And I’m not about to advertise for a wife. Any woman desperate enough to answer that kind of ad wouldn’t be the woman for me.”

      Besides, he’d tried marriage once. He wasn’t sure he would ever be that desperate—in spite of the disasters his sons could create. He’d find a housekeeper somehow. Somewhere.

      Unable to stand any more conversation on the subject, he stood, grabbed his cowboy hat and sheepskin jacket from the back of the chair, muttered a good-night and stalked out into the cold November air.

      “Man, he’s a touchy son of a gun tonight,” Will protested.

      “I bet it’s those kids of his. Meggy has ’em in Sunday school and she comes home all worn-out. They need a mama real bad.”

      “Well, he oughta consider a ad. I heard tell of a man up in Wind River got a wife that way.”

      “He’d be more likely to find a woman СКАЧАТЬ