Then There Were Three. Jeanie London

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      “We’re going to handle everything as adults who are only interested in our daughter’s best interests?”

      Megan nodded, hoping to reassure him.

      “All right. Sounds like a plan.” Grabbing his glass in one hand and the decanter in the other, Nic strode toward her. “Come on. Let’s go talk money.”

      Megan didn’t get a chance to reply, or to back away from the archway of the entry to the dining room before he was on top of her. Hanging on to her own glass so she didn’t do anything stupid like spill wine all over herself, she glanced up at him and was startled at what she saw in his golden-brown gaze.

      Surprise.

      It flared in his eyes unmistakably, and with a gasp of premonition, Megan knew what he was going to do even before he took that last step that closed the distance between them.

      Before he brought his mouth down on hers.

      Dear Reader,

      New Orleans, Louisiana. Historic. Legendary. One of a kind. A city that has always been near and dear to my heart—and to the hearts of so many whose lives were touched by Hurricane Katrina.

      In the years since Katrina, this magnificent city is reemerging stronger and more unique than ever through the efforts of brave citizens, generous benefactors and people who care enough to take an opportunity to make difficult changes for a greater good.

      Change doesn’t come easily. Opening our eyes to our flaws demands a great deal of courage and accountability. But it’s through change that we grow. So in honor of New Orleans, Then There Were Three is a story all about growth and second chances. Ordinary women. Extraordinary romance. That’s what Harlequin Superromance is all about.

      I hope you enjoy Megan, Nic and Violet’s story of how they grow into a unique family unit all their own. I love hearing from readers, so please visit me at www.jeanielondon.com.

      Peace and blessings,

      Jeanie London

      Then There Were Three

      Jeanie London

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Jeanie London writes romances because she believes in happily-ever-afters. Not the “love conquers all” kind, but the “two people love each other, so they can conquer anything” kind. She lives in sunny Florida with her wonderful family—two beautiful daughters and her very own romance hero, who reads fantasy and watches football and doesn’t mind eating the same meal three nights in a row while she’s writing. And she loves to write! She has published twenty-five books in romance mass market, trade paperback and hard cover, winners of such industry awards as RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice, National Readers’ Choice, Holt Medallion, Reader and Bookbuyers’ Best, Venus Book Club and Waldenbooks’ Most Romantic Moment. As far as Jeanie is concerned, she has the very best job in the world.

      For everyone impacted by Hurricane Katrina.

       All those who lost their lives. All those who lost

       loved ones. All those who lost beloved pets,

       treasured homes and much-needed jobs.

       All those who were able to rebuild.

       All those who weren’t. All those who found

       hope and all those who brought hope.

       God bless you all.

      And special thanks to Maryam H.

       for your writer’s eyes. You are talented and

       creative and smart and generous

       and such a delight to know!

      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

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

      CHAPTER ONE

      “MOM WOULD KILL ME IF she knew where I was right now,” Violet Bell whispered, though no one was around to hear her. The words bubbled out of her mouth anyway as she ran across the street to change her hiding place for the zillionth time. The alley was the best place to hide, but then she couldn’t see the front of the building without being noticeable. She didn’t want to be noticed.

      Dashing into the alcove of a parking garage, she pressed against the wall and waited, straining to hear any sound from inside. The garage echoed like a cavern, so she’d hear an approaching car with lots of time to get out of the way before the door opened.

      Violet knew the drill by now.

      Daring a glance, she shifted her gaze from the locked doorway of the brick condo building across the street—she’d already tried to get in—to the garage entrance.

      Nada. Not a soul in sight.

      She swallowed a laugh. Hysteria, probably, because she felt really bad. She wouldn’t lie. Mom and GigiMarie would be having total cows right now, not knowing for sure where Violet was. Mom was insane about that kind of stuff on a normal day. And GigiMarie, who called herself Violet’s honorary grandmother, wasn’t much better. They were on a whole different continent today, which was hardly normal.

      Or maybe Violet was distracting herself from how badly she needed to pee. She’d been stalking this building ever since the taxi had dropped her off around two o’clock this afternoon.

      It was after ten now.

      The only thing saving her was that she hadn’t had anything to drink in forever. On purpose. Earlier there’d been places open with bathrooms. She’d found a bunch of art galleries and a kids’ museum in one direction. But she couldn’t get in without paying admission and she hated wasting Mom’s money on something so stupid. Not on top of everything else she’d been spending.

      The tire place a few blocks in the other direction had been perfect. She pretended to belong in the customers’ waiting area. Someone’s kid killing time in front of the TV while the car was serviced. That had worked until the tire place closed.

      Violet hadn’t taken one sip of water since. Of course, she’d barely been able to choke down the crumbled granola bars that had made up one very crappy dinner, but she’d been starving so, oh, well.

      And now that he’d come home she wasn’t moving from this spot. He’d been driving an unmarked police cruiser. She’d only caught a glimpse of him through the windshield—the only window that wasn’t too darkly tinted to see through—before