The Sheriff's Christmas Twins
Holiday Baby BlessingsConvinced that Allison Ashworth deserves better, Sheriff Shane Timmons has always tried to remain aloof around his childhood companion. But with Allison in Gatlinburg for the holidays, insisting on caring for two motherless babies, Shane feels obliged to help her. How can he keep his distance when she and the children are quickly becoming the family he never dared to wish for?As a girl, Allison was drawn to the wary yet handsome Shane, who never seemed to look her way. But in spending time with him and two sweet babies, she might yet find a chink in the confirmed bachelor's armor. Every shared moment gives Allison hope that this Christmas, her dreams of motherhood—and a life with Shane—may finally be coming true.
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Holiday Baby Blessings
Convinced that Allison Ashworth deserves better, Sheriff Shane Timmons has always tried to remain aloof around his childhood companion. But with Allison in Gatlinburg for the holidays, insisting on caring for two motherless babies, Shane feels obliged to help her. How can he keep his distance when she and the children are quickly becoming the family he never dared to wish for?
As a girl, Allison was drawn to the wary yet handsome Shane, who never seemed to look her way. But in spending time with him and two sweet babies, she might yet find a chink in the confirmed bachelorâs armor. Every shared moment gives Allison hope that this Christmas, her dreams of motherhoodâand a life with Shaneâmay finally be coming true.
He touched her shoulder, and she whirled on him.
âI have to be honest, Shane. I hate that you see me as a burdensome child. Every time you sigh and huff and roll your eyes, Iâm tempted to throttle you.â
He stared at her. âIâm sorry.â
He was sorry that he wasnât a different man, one who knew how to trust and love and have normal relationships. He was sorry he hadnât done a better job of hiding his unease around Allison.
She began to dig in her reticule, her frustration evident. He pulled the key from his pocket and held it up.
âLooking for this?â
When she went to snatch it from him, he held it out of reach. âFor the record, I donât see you as a burdensome child.â
âOh?â Her chin jerked up, her hair gleaming in the night. âHow do you see me, Shane?â
He strove for a rare moment of honesty between them. The fact she couldnât see his face helped. âAs an intelligent, caring, gorgeous woman who makes me wish I was a better man.â
KAREN KIRST was born and raised in East Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. A lifelong lover of books, it wasnât until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
âRomans 8:38â39
To Teresa Bensch, sweet cousin and friend.
And to editor extraordinaire Emily Rodmell.
Your guidance makes all the difference.
Contents
December 1886
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
âWe have a situation at the mercantile, Sheriff.â
Shane Timmons set the law journal aside and reached for his gun belt.
The banker held up his hand. âYou wonât be needing that. This matter requires finesse, not force.â
âWhatâs happened?â His chair scraped across the uneven floor as he stood and picked up his Stetson. âDid Quinn catch a kid filching penny candy?â
âI suggest you come and see for yourself.â
Unaccustomed to seeing Claude Jenkins flustered, Shaneâs curiosity grew as he shrugged on his coat and followed him outside into the crisp December day. Pedestrians intent on starting their holiday shopping early crowded the boardwalks. Those shopkeepers who hadnât already decorated their storefronts were draping the windows and doors in ivy and holly garlands. On the opposite side of the street, they passed a vendor hawking roasted chestnuts, calling forth memories of bitter Norfolk, Virginia, winters and a young boyâs futile longing for a single bag of the toasty treat.
Shane tamped down the unpleasant memories and continued on to the mercantile. Half a dozen trunks were piled beside the entrance. Unease pulled his shoulder blades together as if connected by invisible string. His visitors werenât due for three more days. He did a quick scan of the street, relieved there was no sign of the stagecoach.
Claude held the door and waited for him to enter first. The pungent stench of paint punched him in the chest. The stove-heated air was heavy and made his eyes water. Too many minutes in here and a person could get a headache. The proprietor, Quinn Darling, hadnât mentioned plans to renovate. The first day of December and unofficial kickoff to the holiday fanfare was a terrible time to start.
His gaze swept the deserted sales counter and aisles before landing on a knot of men and women in the far corner.
âWhy didnât you watch where you were going? Where are your parents?â
