Oh! Could Christmas love Be âround the bend For this lovelorn motley crew? A blossoming happy family Would make holiday dreams come true!
In less than two weeks heâd be gone ⦠forever. There could be no happily-ever-after with this man.
And that was just fine with her.
Rachel waited until he shut the trunk, then she kissed him. Right out in the parking lot for anyone to see.
Surprise lit his eyes, even as a pleased smile lifted his lips. âWhat was that for?â
âDoes there have to be a reason?â
âAbsolutely not. But letâs go home. With Mickie not there,â Derek said, âitâll be a good time to get her gifts wrapped.â
âIf we have time. We might be too busy.â
âWhat else would we be doing?â
âNo child in the house. The two of us alone.â She gazed at him through lowered lashes. âYou do the math.â
Dear Reader,
Sometimes the idea for a bookâs story line is so strong, the book practically writes itself. That was the case with In Love with John Doe, book two in the RX FOR LOVE miniseries. The Christmas Proposition took a little longer. When I first started writing it, I went in one direction then quickly realized I didnât like that path. So, I reined myself in, made some changes and let the characters take control. I have to say, I never envisioned matchmaking kids or that Mary Karen and Travis would be such strong secondary characters. So strong, that Iâm hoping my next book out will be their story.
Anyway, back to this book. Iâm really pleased with how it turned out. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it!
Warmest regards,
Cindy Kirk
CINDY KIRK has loved to read for as long as she can remember. In first grade she received an award for reading one hundred books. Growing up, summers were her favorite time of year. Nothing beat going to the library, then coming home and curling up in front of the window air conditioner with a good book. Often the novels she read would spur ideas, and sheâd make up her own story (always with a happy ending). When sheâd go to bed at night, instead of counting sheep, sheâd make up more stories in her head. Since selling her first story to Mills & Boon in 1999, Cindy has been forced to juggle her love of reading with her passion for creating stories of her own ⦠but she doesnât mind. Writing for the Mills & Boon>® Cherish⢠series is a dream come true. She only hopes you have as much fun reading her books as she has writing them!
Cindy invites you to visit her website at www.cindykirk.com.
One of Derek Rossiâs earliest memories was throwing a Wiffle ball to his dad. Since that day heâd pitched in more baseball games in his thirty-two years than he could count. Surprisingly, heâd never been hit. Until today.
He didnât even see the ball which dropped him to his knees. One minute he was talking with the coordinator of the Pitching and Catching Workshop, watching the boys and girls leave the Jackson Hole Indoor Sports Facility. The next, his head was pounding like a son of a gun. Derek blinked, trying to clear his suddenly blurred vision.
As if by magic a blond-haired blue-eyed angel appeared and knelt before him, her brows furrowed in concern. She smelled like vanilla and the bright lights in the gym gave her an ethereal glow. It didnât seem right to be on his knees before such a creature. He tried to stand, but she grabbed his arm and held on tight.
âSit down.â The warmth of her touch jolted him back to reality and told him this was no apparition. âI need to make sure youâre okay before you start moving around.â
The beating of the bass drum in his head nearly drowned out her words. Derek struggled to focus. âAre you a doctor?â
âEmergency room nurse.â She held up her left hand. âHow many fingers am I holding up?â
He squinted and the hand came into focus. âTwo.â
Her gaze met his and for a second he found himself floating, drowning in the azure depths ⦠Until he became conscious of the noiseâand the peopleâmoving closer, encircling him, suffocating him.
The woman must have sensed his sudden distress because her voice rang out above the conversational din. âEveryone, back up.â
âCome on, folks, move along,â a manâs voice echoed. âHeâll be fine.â
The crowd dispersed and Derekâs panic subsided. Chatter turned to a distant hum. Ron Evans, one of the eventâs coordinators, stepped in Derekâs field of vision. But the older manâs focus was on the nurse. âDo you think we should call an ambulance?â
âNo ambulance,â Derek answered for her. The last thing he needed was more publicity. Besides, he felt okay. Or he would if his head would quit pounding.
âI donât think an ambulance is necessary, Ron. But an ice pack and some Tylenol would be helpful.â The nurseâs lips lifted in a rueful smile. âIâm afraid I locked up the first-aid kit a little too quickly.â