The Real Mr Right. Karen Templeton

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       “Um … would you like to take some pie with you? Can’t eat it all, would hate to throw it out.”

      Matt smiled. A soft smile, barely visible through the scruff. Kelly duly—but not dully—considered that scruff, about how sensitive her skin was, and her heart started banging so hard she nearly passed out—

      “Can’t have that, God knows.”

      What? Oh. “No,” she said. “Can’t have that.” Goodness gracious, her sternum was going to hurt like hell in the morning. “Well. Okay. Let me get that packed up for you …”

      Kelly turned toward the kitchen, letting out a little gasp when she found herself somehow cradled to his chest.

      Oh, she thought, smelling him, wanting to inhale him as she listened to his lovely strong heartbeat and soaked up how amazing those arms felt folded around her. She nearly cried, it felt so good and it had been so long, and heck, yeah, she missed this.

      “Your call,” he said, and Kelly did flinch.

      “Wh-what?”

      “Whether I go or stay.” He smiled. “It’s up to you.”

      Jersey Boys: Born … raised … and ready.

      The Real Mr. Right

      Karen Templeton

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      A recent inductee into the Romance Writers of America Hall of Fame, three-time RITA^® award-winning author KAREN TEMPLETON has written more than thirty novels for Mills & Boon. She lives in New Mexico with two hideously spoiled cats, has raised five sons and lived to tell the tale, and could not live without dark chocolate, mascara and Netflix.

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      To all those amazing, selfless people

       who open their homes,

      their lives,

      and their hearts

      to other people’s children

      and call them “ours.”

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Epilogue

       Excerpt

      Chapter One

      Her arm muscles screaming from the weight of the sacked-out toddler slumped against her chest, Kelly McNeil blinked up at the multigabled Queen Anne, so still and serene in the dark...and prayed she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

      Okay, the second-biggest mistake—

      “Who’d you say these people were again?”

      Behind her, the minivan’s engine ticked itself to sleep, the sound overloud in the deep winter silence, and Kelly smiled briefly for her young son.

      “This is where my best friend lived,” she said, her heart knocking as they started up the softly lit brick walk that bisected the snow-shrouded front yard. “We’ll be safe here.”

      Between the twin disks of his Harry Potter glasses, Cooper’s nose scrunched. “You sure?”

      “Yes,” Kelly said, because she had to believe that or die. As it was, she felt as though she’d never be completely free of the fear knotting her stomach...a fear that had finally trampled her last shred of common sense. Because this was so not her, this was insane, uprooting two kids in the middle of the night and taking them someplace she hadn’t even seen for nearly twenty years. She knew the Colonel still lived there, Sabrina had said so in her last Christmas letter, but his number was unlisted and Sabrina had apparently changed her cell phone number—

      Swallowing hard, Kelly boosted Aislin higher on her shoulder and trudged up the steps to the porch, where brass coach lamps still stood sentry on either side of the glossy black door, illuminating the weathered gray floorboards, the dark green porch swing that had been privy to many a summer night’s adolescent gripefest....

      Blowing out a breath, Kelly pressed the doorbell. A dog barked. A big one, by the sound of it. Coop sidled closer.

      “Dad—”

      “Doesn’t know where we are, sweetie.”

      “You sure?”

      “Positive.”

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