Her Best Friend's Baby. Vicki Lewis Thompson

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      From Megan Maitland’s Diary

      Dear Diary,

      I can’t believe Mother’s Day is right around the corner. Obviously we cherish the holiday at Maitland Maternity, but Mother’s Day holds special meaning for me this year. My firstborn son is alive! As a mother, I’m overjoyed that Connor is here in Austin, but I tremble to think of the ramifications for my family and Maitland Maternity when the truth comes out.

      Still, I’m a lucky woman to be able to enjoy all my children. Some aren’t as lucky. My heart still aches for Mary-Jane Potter. She was so excited to be the surrogate mother for her best friend’s baby, and now that woman will never see her child. What a tragedy!

      News like that reminds me to count my blessings. Even my darling Jake is back in town, although in typical Jake fashion, he’s come bearing trouble. I suppose he wouldn’t be Jake otherwise. The fact is, I wouldn’t change a thing about any of my children. They weren’t put on this earth to make my life easy, but every day they fill my heart with love.

      Dear Reader,

      There’s never a dull moment at Maitland Maternity! This unique and now world-renowned clinic was founded twenty-five years ago by Megan Maitland, widow of William Maitland, of the prominent Austin, Texas, Maitlands. Megan is also matriarch of an impressive family of seven children, many of whom are active participants in the everyday miracles that bring children into the world.

      When our series began, the family was stunned by the unexpected arrival of an unidentified baby at the clinic—unidentified, except for the claim that the child is a Maitland. Who are the parents of this child? Is the claim legitimate? Will the media’s tenacious grip on this news damage the clinic’s reputation? Suddenly, rumors and counterclaims abound. Women claiming to be the child’s mother materialize out of the woodwork! How will Megan get at the truth? And how will the media circus affect the lives and loves of the Maitland children—Abby, the head of gynecology, Ellie, the hospital administrator, her twin sister, Beth, who runs the day care center, Mitchell, the fertility specialist, R.J., the vice president of operations—even Anna, who has nothing to do with the clinic, and Jake, the black sheep of the family?

      Please join us each month as the mystery of the Maitland baby unravels, bit by enticing bit, and book by captivating book!

      Marsha Zinberg,

      Senior Editor and Editorial Co-ordinator, Special Projects

      Her Best Friend’s Baby

      Vicki Lewis Thompson

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      A Note From The Author

      I remember my first pregnancy as a time of great anticipation. My husband and I painted the nursery, bought baby furniture, debated names. My changing body was a source of wonder to us both.

      Mary-Jane Potter has none of that, because she’s carrying a baby for her best friend. No nursery plans, no name discussions and worst of all, no sweet man to rub her aching back. I found myself becoming very emotionally involved with Mary-Jane’s plight. I was immensely relieved when it looked as if she might have the support of a wonderful man, after all.

      Morgan Tate’s that special kind of guy—a man who loves children. Plus, he’s a pediatrician, so Mary-Jane’s in good hands. Very good hands. Add to that deep brown eyes and great buns, and you have the perfect antidote to pregnancy doldrums. Yes, Mary-Jane will be just fine….

      To every waiter or waitress who has ever warmed up my coffee, made sure the food was cooked right, cautioned me about a hot plate and smiled no matter what.

       Please know that along with my tip, I leave my gratitude for a job well done in a world that doesn’t always notice.

      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 ONE

      TWO WHOLE DAYS OFF.

      “Freedom!” Mary Jane Potter closed the door of her rented town house and danced a little jig in the foyer. “You and me, babe.” She gave her tummy a pat. “We’re gonna pamper ourselves, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

      Pulling off the scrunchy that held her hair, she toed off her sneakers as she walked toward the answering machine on her writing desk. “Sleeping in, reading trashy magazines, and then, if the urge moves us, we’ll row around Town Lake, or maybe drive out in the country to see what’s left of the bluebonnets.”

      She punched the message button to rewind the tape on the answering machine. “One thing we’re definitely not doing is anything that involves standing, or catering to people who think they’re God’s gift. Not that a lot of folks do that at the diner,” she added, not wanting the baby to absorb a poor impression of Austin Eats. No telling how much information got through to the kidlet, but lately she’d started playing classical music when she was home. Couldn’t hurt.

      Right at the moment, though, she was in the mood for the Smashing Pumpkins. The doctor had warned her that she’d have some mood swings, and lately she’d been a wee bit depressed. She didn’t do depressed, which was why she intended to have some fun in the next couple of days. Careful fun, of course. Nothing to jeopardize this baby girl she was carrying next to her heart.

      The answering machine finally stopped rewinding and clicked to play.

      Hey, girlfriend.

      Mary Jane smiled. The sound of her good buddy Lana’s voice could always lift her spirits.

      We just got a new shipment of baby duds at the shop. I know you’re scheduled for some days off. Come on by and take a look. You’ll positively drool. If it’s not too crazy around here, maybe we can do lunch.

      Lunch sounded great to Mary Jane. She’d turned into a