Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets
She went to bed single… And woke up married!Detective Reed Barelli doesn’t quite know how he ended up married to Norah Ingalls. An instant family wasn’t exactly what he’d planned… Yet the thought of just walking away is unimaginable.
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She went to bed a single mom of triplets...
And woke up married!
Blame it on the spiked punch, or on the legend of Wedlock Creek Chapel. But Norah Ingalls is now Detective Reed Barelliâs wife. The lawman certainly didnât intend to marry the gorgeous mom of three infant babies; an instant family wasnât in his plans. Yet just walking away was unimaginable. In this brand-new Wyoming Multiples romance, marriage is just the beginning...
MELISSA SENATE has written many novels for Mills & Boon and other publishers, including her debut, See Jane Date, which was made into a TV movie. She also wrote seven books under the pen name Meg Maxwell. Her novels have been published in over twenty- ive countries. Melissa lives on the coast of Maine with her teenaged son, their sweet rescue Shepherd mix, Flash, and a lap cat named Cleo. For more information, please visit her website, www.melissasenate.com.
The Baby Switch!
As Meg Maxwell
Mommy and the Maverick
Santaâs Seven-Day Baby Tutorial Charm School for Cowboys The Cookâs Secret Ingredient The Cowboyâs Big Family Tree The Detectiveâs 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise A Cowboy in the Kitchen Little Black Dress Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-07785-9
DETECTIVE BARELLIâS LEGENDARY TRIPLETS
© 2018 Melissa Senate
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a âLicensed Deviceâ) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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Dedicated to my darling Max.
Contents
The first thing Norah Ingalls noticed when she woke up Sunday morning was the gold wedding band on her left hand.
Norah was not married. Had never been married. She was as single as single got. With seven-month-old triplets.
The second thing was the foggy headache pressing at her temples.
The third thing was the very good-looking stranger lying next to her.
A memory poked at her before panic could even bother setting in. Norah lay very still, her heart just beginning to pound, and looked over at him. He had short, thick, dark hair and a hint of five-oâclock shadow along his jawline. A scar above his left eyebrow. He was on his back, her blue-and-white quilt half covering him down by his belly button. An innie. He had an impressive six-pack. Very little chest hair. His biceps and triceps were something to behold. The man clearly worked out. Or was a rancher.
Norah bolted upright. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He wasnât a rancher. He was a secret service agent! She remembered now. Yes. Theyâd met at the Wedlock Creek Founderâs Day carnival last night andâ
And had said no real names, no real stories, no real anything. A fantasy for the night. That had been her idea. Sheâd insisted, actually.
The man in her bed was not a secret service agent. She had no idea who or what he was.
She swallowed against the lump in her parched throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut. What happened? Think, Norah!
Thereâd been lots of orange punch. And giggling, when Norah was not a giggler. The man had said something about how the punch must be spiked.
