The Majors' Holiday Hideaway

The Majors' Holiday Hideaway
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The ultimate Christmas house swap!While on a Christmas house swap, Major India Woods discovers the hottest local attraction – Major Aidan Nord – lives right next door! Until India discovers Aidan’s a dad. After a lifetime of globe-trotting, India wonders if this little family could be her biggest adventure?

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Swapping houses for Christmas vacation

Brought a gift she never imagined

While Fort Hood, Texas, isn’t exactly the City of Lights, Major India Woods discovers its hottest attraction—Major Aidan Nord—lives right next door! And they happily enjoy a little no-strings mischief under the mistletoe. Until India discovers Aidan is seeing other women—his adorable twin girls, that is! After a lifetime of globe-trotting, India wonders if this little family could be her biggest adventure.

Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate, army officer and Fortune 100 sales executive, CARO CARSON has always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. As a RITA® Award-winning Mills & Boon author, Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two chil-dren in Florida, a location that has saved the coaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.

Also by Caro Carson

The Captains’ Vegas Vows

The Lieutenants’ Online Love

How to Train a Cowboy

A Cowboy’s Wish Upon a Star

Her Texas Rescue Doctor

Following Doctor’s Orders

A Texas Rescue Christmas

Not Just a Cowboy

The Maverick’s Holiday Masquerade

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Majors’ Holiday Hideaway

Caro Carson


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07833-7

THE MAJORS’ HOLIDAY HIDEAWAY

© 2018 Caroline Phipps

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 “Licensed Device”) 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.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This story about a family is dedicated to my family.

Many military families must spend some holidays

apart. I know I’m very lucky to have never spent a Christmas apart from Richard, Katie and William.

May all your Christmases be bright.

Chapter One

It began with the note taped to her door.

Or rather, the note was the end.

Major India Woods, US Army, stood in the hallway outside her apartment in Belgium and read the note. Her feet were killing her after a ten-hour day in black, high-heeled pumps, but the note was taped right at eye level, so she read it on the spot.

Her boyfriend, Gerard-Pierre, had very neat handwriting. His words, lovely loops of black ink that formed perfectly parallel lines across the white paper, spelled the end of their relationship.

He just didn’t know it.

He’d written in French, of course, although his English was nearly as good as hers. Ostensibly, he preferred to use French when communicating with her because she’d once said it was her weakest language and he was, therefore, helping her. Considering her English, German, Dutch, Flemish and Danish were better than his, she believed he preferred to use the one language that made him superior—but she’d known that for almost as long as she’d known Gerard-Pierre. It wasn’t the language in which he’d written that signaled the end of their relationship.

They needed to talk tonight, Gerard-Pierre had written. He had to work late, but he’d be home after dinner. This was Europe; after dinner could mean ten or eleven at night. India was an American and an army officer to boot; her workday started as early as six in the morning, something Gerard-Pierre had always considered uncivilized. His schedule as a university teaching assistant might be more sophisticated than hers, but expecting her to wait up for him tonight was a thoughtless way to treat a woman who had to get up before dawn to run three miles with her military unit.



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