Her Mistletoe Miracle

“I want us to be married beforeyou have the baby.”

“Mick, that’s not possible.” Hana tried to sit up, but a nurse pressed her back.

“Hana, listen to me. If we’re married, the baby has my last name. The birth certificate will say Callen. This baby will be ours – yours and mine. I’ll be the one, the only, father.”

Hana’s tear-swollen eyes sought the doctor. “Is it crazy or is it possible? I’d like that…a lot.” With her free hand she touched her stomach.

Dr Walsh shrugged. “It’s crazy, all right. You’d need a licence and that takes time…”

“We have our licence. They processed it today. It’s…uh, at the house.”

“Then we can do it,” the doctor said. “Somebody find the hospital chaplain and get him up here at the double. Mick, you run home and get the licence.”

Mick nodded, then slid his hand up to cradle the back of Hana’s head. “I know this isn’t the way we planned it…” He grinned. “But at least we’ll have a Christmas wedding.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roz made her first sale to the Romance line in 1989 and sold six Romance titles, writing as Roz Denny. After transferring to the Superromance series, she began writing as Roz Denny Fox.

Roz has been a RITA® Award finalist and has been placed in a number of other contests; her books have also appeared on the bestseller lists. She’s happy to have received her twenty-five-book pin and would one day love to get the pin for fifty books.

Roz currently resides in Tucson, Arizona, with her husband, Denny. They have two daughters.

Dear Reader,

When I first thought of writing a story that centred on twins who fly mercy flights in a wilderness area, I imagined it as two stories in one book. But I hadn’t even finished the synopsis of Marlee’s story before I realised her brother Mick needed a life, a love, a book of his own. My editor agreed.

Mick had been wounded in Afghanistan, healed, and had rebuilt his grandfather’s charter flight service to what it had once been. Mick Callen enticed his sister to come home, only to have her leave again when she found her true love. The twins’ grandfather died over the summer. I just couldn’t leave Mick alone and lonely.

Certain books come together more easily than others, and Mick and Hana’s story was one of them. I love both of these characters. Plus I like writing about families who face the challenges real people face in real life.

I hope you enjoy reading this book. The men and women (and the various organisations) who make mercy flights accessible to people in remote sites share a unique strength and compassion. I admire them one and all. However, Mick’s story, like his sister’s, is pure fiction and not patterned on any of the many real mercy flying services.

Roz Denny Fox

PS I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at PO Box 17480-101, Tucson, AZ 85731, USA or via e-mail at [email protected].

ROZ DENNY FOX

CHAPTER ONE

MICK CALLEN MOVED a step higher on the twelve-foot ladder that was propped against the battered Huey. It was the only helicopter in a fleet of three aircraft belonging to Cloud Chasers, Mick’s company, which delivered freight throughout remote northwest Montana.

He stretched to dab lubricant on the far side of the rotor pitch. The pain in his hip at the movement was a sharp reminder that he’d reached too far for the titanium socket a surgeon had installed a year ago. He adjusted his weight and breathed more easily. Damn, how long would it be before he’d remember he didn’t have the same range of motion anymore? But setting limits wasn’t easy for a man who, at thirty-five, ought to be in the prime of his life.

Frustrated, he raised a greasy hand to swipe a stubborn lock of hair out of his eyes, then caught himself and first rubbed the grease down his coveralls so he wouldn’t have a black streak through his blond hair. Mick shifted again and rested the can on the top rung. From this vantage point he could see a row of white-capped peaks in the distance. A slice of the Rocky Mountains.

Intent on servicing the Huey, Mick hadn’t noticed the added nip in the morning air until this minute. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue. Pappy Jack would’ve said it was a perfect day for cloud chasing. Hence the name of their company.

A pang seared Mick’s chest. This pain wasn’t related to the injuries he’d sustained in the military when he’d been shot down during his last mission in Afghanistan. Nor was it the result of the many subsequent surgeries. Mick recognized this ache. He’d diagnosed it weeks ago as he tinkered with his plane engines. This pain struck each time he left the house to work solo.

Since mid-May he’d shopped solo, cooked solo, ate solo, flew solo and walked Wingman, his mutt, solo.

Here it was, already late October. It had been six damned months and he still expected to see his grandfather moving around the property. Pappy Jack Callen, Mick’s mentor and grandfather, had always been the real heart and soul of Cloud Chasers.