Lily Palmerâs To-Do list
âGet Dr Cullen Dunlevyâs houseâand foster kidsâunder control
âStop the children from creating âpotionsâ in the bathroom and putting rubber snakes in my candy
âBake Christmas cookies togetherâas a family
âStop thinking about CullenâsâI mean, Dr Dunlevyâsâsexy dimples ⦠and how cute he is with his children
âHang the mistletoeâright where Cullen can see it â¦
âDecorate the tree with the kids to create the best holiday ever
âHave a forever family with the manâand familyâof my dreams â¦
***
Celebrations, Inc: Letâs get this party started!
Award-winning author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, âWhat? I wasnât doing anything.â Itâs no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting âjust the factsâ bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books âfunny, smart and observant.â She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When sheâs not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.
Chapter One
Cullen Dunlevy had never begged for anything in his adult life, but right now he was desperate. âIâll pay you triple your salary if youâll stay for two more hours, Angie,â he said. âAnd you donât have to clean up after the kids.â
âDr. Dunlevy, there isnât enough money in the world to make me stay.â Unmoved, the housekeeper brushed past him. She paused at the top of the stairs. âCall me when you find a home for them.â
A home for them? Theyâre kids, not stray animals.
Cullen glanced down at ten-year-old Megan Thomas. All the color had drained from her already pale cheeks. Then his gaze found its way back to the hall-bath toilet, which was overflowing with some kind of expanding blue goop that seemed to be growing exponentially. The prank had been the final straw, the reason for Angieâs noon phone call to Cullen at the hospital, informing him he had exactly one hour to get home because she was fed up and leaving.
What happened to the theory âit takes a villageâ?
Couldnât Angie have a little heart? Sure, the four of them were unruly, but anyone with an ounce of compassion could see their disobedience stemmed from grief.
The kids had lost both their parents in a car accident. Their dad, Greg Thomas, had been Cullenâs lifelong friend. Given the lingering sting of his own grief, he couldnât imagine what the kids must be going through. They were homeless and alone in the world except for each other. And they were at the mercy of the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.
A pang of guilt coursed through Cullen. He had room for them in this big, empty house, but was that enough? Didnât kids deserve two loving parents? He was married to a job that demanded sixteen-hour days. He worked and slept, only to get up day after day to repeat the routine. He didnât know anything about raising kids. Hell, heâd thought he was doing the right thing by leaving them with Angie.
Obviously that had been a colossal mistake.
Standing there, alternating glances between Megan and the creeping blue foam, Cullen realized if he were any further out of his element he might sprout fins and gills and start flopping on the tile.
He swallowed an expletive and reminded himself that he might not be the best candidate to parent his friendsâ children, but the one thing he could do to honor Greg and his wife, Rosa, would be to make sure the kids stayed together. The kids would live with him until he found the right family that would take all four of them.
In the meantime, he needed to convince Angie to stay just a little longer.
The kids ranged in age from five to ten years old. They were relatively self-sufficient. In other words, Angie wouldnât be warming bottles and changing diapers. Just one more hourâgive or take a few minutesâduring which she could go on about her usual housecleaning duties, toilet-clogging blue foam exempted, while he interviewed Lily Palmer, the nanny candidate. At least Lily had agreed to change her schedule and move up their interview to one oâclock that afternoon.
Until heâd explained his dire straits, she hadnât been free until the end of the week. At least she was flexible. Of course, heâd cushioned the story, telling her that his temporary child care had fallen through and he was in a pinch. There was no way he was going to scare her off with the gory details of pranks and temper tantrums. He prayed to God that she was right for the kids and available to start immediately.