A Virgin River Christmas. Робин Карр

       Praise for RITA^® award-winning author Robyn CARR

      The American Library Association’s Booklist names Virgin River one of 2007’s top ten romances.

      “The Virgin River books are so compelling—I

      connected instantly with the characters and just

      wanted more and more and more.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

      “Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!” —New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

      “Robyn Carr writes a beautiful romance entangled

      with passion and intrigue.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler

      “Jennifer is a beautifully drawn character whose

      interior journey is wonderful to behold.”

      —RT Book Reviews on Runaway Mistress

      “This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”

      —Book Reviewer on Blue Skies

      “Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful,

      thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”

      —Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley

      “A remarkable storyteller.”

      —Library Journal

      “A warm, wonderful book about women’s

      friendships, love and family. I adored it!”

      —New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street

      “A delightfully funny novel.”

      —Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party

      Dear Reader,

      It was such an honour to be asked to create a Christmas story that would take place in Virgin River, especially because, in my mind, the miracle of Christmas is synonymous with that special town. Virgin River seems to be a place of kindness, friendship, love and miracles.

      In this story you’ll meet Ian and Marcie, two courageous people who have weathered too many storms in their young lives. Both of them need two things to help them get to a place of peace and happiness: namely, faith and love. Between them they have a lot of history but, at the same time, they’re just getting to know one another. And what they find in their renewed relationship could bring them closer to the peace and serenity they both need so much.

      The Virgin River novels are part of an ongoing series, and A Virgin River Christmas is a special addition to that series. While many of the well-known Virgin River characters are present in this book, you don’t have to read the first three in the series to feel at home here. But for those of you who have started at the beginning, and have waited patiently for this next book, let me put you in the time frame. A Virgin River Christmas takes place just a few weeks before Christmas—right in the middle of Whispering Rock, the third book in the continuing series.

      Christmas can mean many different things to each of us. For Marcie and Ian, I’ve tried to create a special time for two people who couldn’t be more deserving.

      It was a privilege to create this story. I hope you’ll treasure it.

      My best wishes to you and yours,

       Robyn Carr

       A Virgin River Christmas

       Robyn Carr

       www.mirabooks.co.uk

      A Virgin River Christmas is dedicated to Kris and Edna Kitna, with deep gratitude for your help, your incomparable hospitality and your friendship.

       Prologue

      Marcie stood beside her lime-green Volkswagen, shivering in the November chill, the morning sun barely over the horizon. She was packed and ready, as excited as she was scared about this undertaking. In the backseat she had a small cooler with snacks and sodas. There was a case of bottled water in the trunk and a thermos of coffee on the passenger seat. She’d brought a sleeping bag just in case the motel bedding wasn’t to her standards; the clothes she’d packed in her duffel were mostly jeans, sweatshirts, heavy socks and boots, all appropriate for tramping around small mountain towns. She was itching to hit the road, but her younger brother, Drew, and her older sister, Erin, were stretching out the goodbyes.

      “You have the phone cards I gave you? In case you don’t have good cell reception?” Erin asked.

      “Got ‘em.”

      “Sure you have enough money?”

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “Thanksgiving is in less than two weeks.”

      “It shouldn’t take that long,” Marcie said, because if she said anything else, there would be yet another showdown. “I figure I’m going to find Ian pretty quick. I think I have his location narrowed down.”

      “Rethink this, Marcie,” Erin said, giving it one last try. “I know some of the best private detectives in the business—the law firm employs them all the time. We could locate Ian and have the things you want to give him delivered.”

      “We’ve been over this,” Marcie said. “I want to see him, talk to him.”

      “We could find him first and then you could—”

      “Tell her, Drew,” Marcie implored.

      Drew took a breath. “She’s going to find him, talk to him, find out what’s going on with him, spend some time with him, give him the baseball cards, show him the letter, and then she’ll come home.”

      “But we could—”

      Marcie put a hand on her older sister’s arm and looked at her with determined green eyes. “Stop. I can’t move on until I do this, and do it my way, not your way. We’re done talking about it. I know you think it’s dumb, but it’s what I’m going to do.” She leaned toward Erin and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Erin, so sleek, beautiful, accomplished and sophisticated—so nothing like Marcie—had been like a mother to her since she was a little girl. She had a hard time leaving off the mothering. “Don’t worry—there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be careful. I won’t be gone long.”

      Then she kissed Drew’s cheek and said, “Can’t you get her some Xanax or something?” Drew was in med school and, no, he couldn’t write prescriptions.

      He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight for a moment. “Just hurry up and get this over with. Erin’s going to drive me nuts.”

      Marcie narrowed her eyes at Erin. “Go easy on him,” she said. “This was my idea. I’ll be back before you know it.”

      And then she got in the car, leaving them standing on the curb in front of the house as she pulled away. She made it all the way to the highway before she felt her eyes sting with tears. She knew she was worrying her siblings, but she had no choice.

      Marcie’s husband, Bobby, had died almost a year ago, just before Christmas, at the age of twenty-six. That came after more than three years in hospitals and then in a nursing home—hopelessly disabled and brain damaged, with injuries incurred as a marine serving in Iraq. Ian Buchanan was his sergeant and best friend, a marine Bobby said would do twenty. But Ian exited the Marine Corps shortly after Bobby was wounded and had been out of touch ever since.