The Marine's Babies

How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? His lazy Southern drawl wasn’t helping much, either.

Beatrice grew fidgety.

Emma moved to get her, but Jace beat her to it. “You’ve had them all day,” Jace said. “Let me handle this for you.”

He held the baby awkwardly at arm’s length.

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Let me.”

When the baby was quiet, she said, “You asked what you should do. For starters, you need to not be so afraid of them. They won’t break.”

“Who said I was afraid? I fight wars.”

“Great. As a U.S. citizen, I’m in awe of your sacrifice, but Jace, we’re not talking about battle, but babies. Here—”

She handed Bea right back to him.

Dear Reader,

My parents thought sixth grade was a little young for romance, but from my very first Harlequin novel, I was hooked on love! Real boys were okay, but they didn’t compare to Argentinean ranchers or Greek tycoons. In my teens I realized that not all real romances or jobs end happily ever after, which is why to this day Harlequin books are a staple in my life. The characters my favorite authors create might experience rough patches, but in the end, love sees them through.

From my first read, I dreamed of becoming a Harlequin author, and I proudly hang each new cover on my office wall. Though I started out devouring Harlequin Romance and Presents, I found my home at Harlequin American Romance after reading Elda Minger’s Teddy Bear Heir. American Romance has changed through the years. Fanciful paranormals and princess tales paved the way for the family stories that make up the line today. While the topics might have changed, thankfully the one constant at the heart of each Harlequin novel has remained the same—love.

Happy sixtieth birthday, Harlequin! You don’t look a day over twenty-nine!

Laura Marie

Laura Marie Altom of Tulsa, Oklahoma, is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than two dozen books. Her works have made several appearances on both the Barnes & Noble and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. This mother of two boys and a girl—all currently in their “terrible teens”—has spoken on numerous occasions at both regional and national conferences, and teaches art at a local middle school. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for twenty years.

Terry, with all my heart I love you!

As for your noisy guitar… Just kidding! Thanks for an amazing twenty years. Here’s to many, many more!

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

“This is a joke, right?” Captain Jace Monroe of the United States Marine Corps made a visual sweep of the pine forest flanking the main entrance and guard post of Olive, Alabama’s Camp Morgan. No lurking video crews from Punk’d or Candid Camera. In fact, for only six on a Monday night, the place was inordinately quiet, which made Jace all the more suspicious. “Whatever Granola paid you, I’ll double it if you’ll help flip this back around on him.”

“Granola?” The vaguely familiar blonde wrinkled her nose.

Two identical babies in carriers at her feet whimpered. Females, judging by the pink blankets, hats and miniature sandals.

“Don’t act like you don’t know him,” Jace said with a chuckle, glancing over his right shoulder to see if the guard on duty was having a good laugh. Oddly enough, the guy had missed the whole bit, focusing instead on paperwork. Whatever. Despite his pal’s best efforts to up him in the practical joke department, Granola had failed. Everyone knew if no one witnessed the stunt, it didn’t count.

“Jace?” The woman slid her oversized black sunglasses down her narrow nose. Eyes red and skin blotchy, she asked, “Don’t you remember? Our night in Mobile? How we ended up at that motel overlooking the bay? How you told the manager we were honeymooners, and he gave us a suite for no extra charge? Remember the Jacuzzi tub? The minibar? The chaise lounge out on the balcony?”

Lord, what a night. Heat roared through him like a well-aimed missile.

Air.

Where was all the damned air?

“V-Vicki?”

She exhaled sharply. “Thank goodness, you do remember.”

“Um, yeah,” he said, simultaneously shifting his weight from one leg to the other while running his hands over his buzzed hair. As an AH-1 Cobra pilot, his specialty was multi-tasking. What he wasn’t so great at was dealing with women, which was no doubt why his mouth was dry and his pulse was pounding harder than it had on his last combat run. “We halved an order of spaghetti and meatballs at like 2:00 a.m. I remember because you hogged all the garlic bread. I love garlic bread.”

Her faint smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “Yes, well, I wish all we had to discuss were your food preferences, but at the moment, there’s something more pressing on your proverbial plate.”