Single With Twins. Joan Elliott Pickart

      

      The twins were becoming very fond of Mack very quickly.

      They didn’t want to lose him, the way they’d lost the father they had never known. They wanted their mommy to tell them they could keep Uncle Mack forever, and that yearning had to be nipped in the bud. She didn’t want her daughters’ hearts broken when Mack left Tucson.

      And your heart, Heather? she asked herself. When she’d hugged Mack to thank him for the beautiful vase, she’d been struck by a sense of being where she belonged, encircled in his strong, protective arms. And she’d felt the raging, burning heat of what she knew was desire, of a woman wanting a man, wanting to make love with that man.

      Stop it, she admonished herself. This was ridiculous. She hardly knew Mack Marshall. Desiring him, wanting him was terrible, frightening and—

      It had been many years since she’d been made to feel special and pretty and feminine….

      Dear Reader,

      It’s the little things that mean so much. In fact, more than once, “little things” have fueled Myrna Temte’s Special Edition novels. One of her miniseries evolved from a newspaper article her mother sent her. The idea for her first novel was inspired by something she’d heard a DJ say on her favorite country-western radio station. And Myrna Temte’s nineteenth book, Handprints, also evolved in an interesting way. A friend received a special Mother’s Day present—a picture of her little girl with finger-painted handprints and a sweet poem entitled “Handprints.” Once the story was relayed to Myrna, the seed for another romance novel was planted. And the rest, as they say, is history….

      There are plenty of special somethings this month. Bestselling author Joan Elliott Pickart delivers Single with Twins, the story of a photojournalist who travels the world in search of adventure, only to discover that family makes his life complete. In Lisa Jackson’s The McCaffertys: Matt, the rugged rancher hero feels that law enforcement is no place for a lady—but soon finds himself making a plea for passion….

      Don’t miss Laurie Paige’s When I See Your Face, in which a fiercely independent officer is forced to rely on others when she’s temporarily blinded in the line of duty. Find out if there will be a Match Made in Wyoming in Patricia McLinn’s novel, when the hero and heroine find themselves snowbound on a Wyoming ranch! And The Child She Always Wanted by Jennifer Mikels tells the touching tale of a baby on the doorstep bringing two people together for a love too great for either to deny.

      Asking authors where they get their ideas often proves an impossible question. However, many ideas come from little things that surround us. See what’s around you. And if you have an idea for a Special Edition novel, I’d love to hear from you. Enjoy!

      Best,

      Karen Taylor Richman, Senior Editor

      Single with Twins

      Joan Elliott Pickart

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For Josh who has learned how to smile

      JOAN ELLIOTT PICKART

      is the author of over eighty-five novels. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, gardening and attending craft shows on the town square with her young daughter, Autumn. Joan has three all-grown-up daughters and three fantastic grandchildren. Joan and Autumn live in a charming small town in the high pine country of Arizona.

      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

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      The air was thick with smoke from the burning buildings and had an eerie orange cast. It even tasted strange, like dirt, charred wood…and fear.

      Bullets thudded into the low, block wall with a maddening tempo as Mack Marshall crouched next to the old man and woman who were clinging to each other, trembling with fright.

      “Hang on,” Mack said. “The good guys know we’re pinned down back here. They’ll get us some cover fire and we’ll make a run for it.”

      The couple stared at Mack with wide, terror-filled eyes. Their expressions told him they hadn’t understood a word he’d said.

      Damn, Mack thought, he’d really done it this time. All the other photojournalists had pulled back. But him? Hell, no, not Mack Marshall. He had to get closer, to go for a few more pictures that no one else would get, to push his luck right to the edge. Luck, which was obviously running out very, very quickly.

      He could die here. He could actually get shot full of holes and die in the dirt in this godforsaken place, his lifeblood seeping into the ground to be trampled by strangers’ feet and forgotten, as though it had never been there. As though he had never existed.

      Damn, he could die here…and no one would cry because he was dead.

      Mack shook his head slightly in self-disgust at his depressing thoughts, but there was nowhere to escape from the chilling truth. Yeah, sure, he had friends scattered around the world who would feel badly that Mack Marshall had finally pushed his luck too far, once too often, and had bit the big one.

      Mack was a helluva photojournalist, they’d say as they raised drinks in a final tribute to the reckless man who had never been without a camera around his neck and dynamic words to describe what he had seen.

      Mack deserved all those awards he’d received over the years, they’d decide, filling their glasses again, but…by the same token…he sorta deserved his come-uppance too because he continually pushed his luck to the point of ridiculous and had finally paid the piper for the risks he’d taken.

      Here’s to Mack. Drink up, boys… The king is dead and which one of us will be the next king? Here’s to Mack…what was his last name again?…oh, yeah, Marshall. Mack Marshall… Did you notice there was no family at the memorial service for Mack?

      No one.

      There was nobody there who cried.

      A bullet zinged through the air above Mack’s head and he ducked even lower, cursing under his breath as he was pulled roughly from his dreary, mental ramblings.

      The old couple gripped each other tighter, closing their eyes, their lips moving with whispered prayers.

      “No,” Mack said, shaking the man’s shoulder. “Stay alert, be ready to run. Don’t give up now. How are you going to see the terrific pictures I took of you two if you quit on me now?

      “Never let it be said that Mack Marshall didn’t take the extra step to get the perfect photograph, the one that puts him a cut above the herd. The picture that this time just might be the one that got him killed.”

      The old man and woman bobbed their heads in jerky motions, willing to hang on to the sound of Mack’s deep voice, grasping at anything that hinted at hope.

      Mack stiffened suddenly and narrowed his eyes.

      “That’s it. Hear it?” he said. “That gunfire is from the good guys. Yeah, I can see them up on that rise, and they’re giving us cover. This is our last chance.” He crept behind