When the editors at Love Inspired approached me about
participating in a miniseries for the Christmas season working with two very talented authors, Patricia Davids and Lee Tobin McClain, I didn’t have to give
it a moment’s thought before I said yes.
For one thing, I adore everything
about the Christmas season, from the carols and Christmas spirit to the Baby in the manger. Plus, the
editors handed me the perfect trifecta where my brand is concerned—Christmas,
Texas (read “Broody Cowboy”) and of course, and adorable set of twins. Add to
that a bright, bubbly heroine and you have the makings of a great holiday read.
Here’s the Back Cover Copy to spark your interest:
Christmas on the Ranch
Miranda Morgan’s Christmas will be twice as busy now that
she’s guardian of her sister’s sweet twin babies. But the celebrity
photographer is happy to trade a glamorous LA lifestyle for motherhood in her
small hometown of Wildhorn, Texas. Unfortunately, the twins’ handsome
godfather, Simon West, is unconvinced. The brooding rancher isn’t thrilled
about letting sunny, spontaneous Miranda into his carefully managed world.
Though they disagree on almost everything, Simon and Miranda discover common
ground as they work to make the twins’ first country Christmas cozy and bright.
Could this holiday transform Miranda and Simon’s tentative friendship into a
forever love?
Want to read the first few pages? Did I
hear a yes? Why, here they are…
Miranda Morgan wouldn’t even know what hit her.
He was here in front of her cabin,
preparing to make certain of that. After he was through with her, the powers that be would
want to name a tempest after him.
Hurricane
Simon.
It didn’t matter that
he hadn’t seen Miranda since high school, or even, as his best friend Mason’s
kid sister, that she’d bared the occasional brunt of his pranks and mean jokes.
In another situation, he might be considering how to make amends and not
additional strife. He was a new man, a man of faith. The Lord had changed his
heart, and now Simon’s goal was to change his life to match what had happened
internally.
But try as he might, he
fell short of being able to forgive Miranda for ignoring her responsibility to
the sweet nine-month old twins now in her care.
If this was a spiritual
test, a trial in his bumpy new Christian life, it was a doozy.
Miranda was an
eminently successful celebrity photographer. But he couldn’t care less about
movie stars and the la-di-da lifestyles of the rich and famous. He was a simple
ranch owner and dog trainer and he liked his solitary country life.
What he didn’t like was Miranda. She
couldn’t even be bothered to fly home to Texas long enough to attend her own
twin niece and nephew’s christening, and she was not only Hudson and Harper’s
aunt, but had also been named their godmother.
And yet she hadn’t
managed to spare even one weekend for them.
Even Simon had been in
church that day, though at the time he hadn’t been a churchgoing man. He
remembered feeling uncomfortable, but he’d been there. Simon was the twins’
godfather, and to him, it was a big thing, a sacred duty, a promise that he’d
always be there for Hudson and Harper in any way they needed.
Obviously, Miranda didn’t
feel the same way. Family obligations clearly meant nothing to her.
And now, through a
cruel twist of fate, Miranda had been named the twins’ permanent legal
guardian.
How could that even be? The very thought
of it was both confusing and infuriating.
It was painful enough
that Mary, Mason’s youngest sister, and her husband John had been taken from this world
prematurely by the merciless act of a drunkard who’d made the deadly choice to
drive while intoxicated.
But for Mary to name
self-serving, high-flying Miranda
as the twins’ legal guardian, even after all she had done, or not done, for Mary
and the babies—
Well, that made less
sense than putting a Border collie in a room full of cats and expecting him to
herd them.
What had Mary been thinking? How could she have
considered her sister a worthwhile guardian, one with whom she could entrust
innocent children? What kind of mother would a woman like Miranda possibly be?
Inconceivable.
Why hadn’t Mason and his wife, Charlotte, been named the
twins’ guardians? They already had four children of their own with a fifth on
the way. They were wonderful, experienced parents who had been there for Mary and the twins
during every stage of their lives.
Mary might have sincerely believed that two more children
would have been too much of a burden on Mason and Charlotte, and that they had
their own family to think of and provide for.
But choosing Miranda?
Mary might have been sincere, but she’d been sincerely wrong.
However the future played out now that Miranda was the
twins’ legal guardian, Simon’s determination to be a positive influence in his
godchildren’s lives hadn’t changed one iota. They had
always been a priority with him, but even more so now.
If Miranda was anything like Simon imagined her to be,
Harper and Hudson would need all the protection and stability they could get.
He was going to step up
for those two precious babies.
Unfortunately, that
also meant he would, by default, be in contact with Miranda. She would have to
let him into her world, whether she liked it or not. And likewise, he’d have to
learn to work with her. They didn’t have to be friends, but they would have to
get along.
For the
twins’ sake, he reminded himself as he removed his brown Stetson,
combed his fingers back through his thick blond hair and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” he heard Miranda call from somewhere inside
the cabin, her voice muffled and distant.
Feeling awkward at having to let himself into a cabin he
was unfamiliar with, he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn’t
immediately see Miranda, or the twins, either, for that matter.
His attention was instead captured by the insane display
of Christmas decorations, red and green, silver and gold, everywhere his gaze
landed.
An enormous eight-foot Christmas tree stood in one
corner, the flashing angel topper just barely clearing the ceiling. Presents
wrapped in colorful aluminum paper were piled high underneath the tree.
She’d arranged a large Nativity set, complete with a
stable and an angel proclaiming Peace on Earth, on the end table.
Shiny red and gold garland adorned every wall, with
evergreen garland gracing the fireplace where the stockings were hung with
care, as the poem went. Homemade
stockings, with Hudson and Harper’s names written in flourishes of red and
green glitter glue.
This woman was clearly obsessed with Christmas.
And apparently, shiny things.
It took him a moment to focus and find Miranda.He supposed he’d
expected to find her changing a diaper or two, or feeding the twins their
bottles—or whatever it was that nine-month-old babies ate—as the reason she
couldn’t answer the door. Instead, she was right there in the middle of the
living room, stretched out on her stomach underneath a card table that she’d
draped with sheets, holding a flashlight she was beaming on a picture book as
Harper and Hudson cuddled on either side of her.
Of all the crazy, unexpected scenarios, this one took the
cake.
Or the Christmas fruitcake as the case might be.
The tent was ingenious. She’d used stacks of hardback
books to fasten the edges of the sheet to the sofa on one side of them and an
armchair on the other, with the card table holding up the structure in the
middle.
Lying on her stomach, jammed under a table only a few
feet high, couldn’t possibly be comfortable for her, with her tall, lithe frame,
and yet she had an enthusiastic smile on her face and didn’t look the least bit
put out by the awkward position. He suspected her feet might be protruding out
the back, although he couldn't confirm that from his current vantage point.
She shined the flashlight at his face, momentarily
blinding him, and he held up a hand to block the light.
“Simon?” she questioned, surprise lining her tone. “Simon
West?”
He was astonished she recognized him. He’d added a few
inches to his frame in the years since they’d seen each other last, not to
mention a few pounds. He'd stayed
at the outskirts of John and Mary's funeral and hadn't spoken to anyone but
Mason and Charlotte.
“Uncle
Simon,” he corrected her tersely, nodding toward the twins. “It’s an honorary
title.”
Of which he was very, very proud.
“Well, Uncle
Simon, you’re more than welcome to join us.” She shifted
herself and the twins to the side to make room for him in the tiny, strung-up
tent.
“I’m welcome to—” he repeated. He’d walked into her house
out of the blue. She had no idea why he was here, and yet she’d immediately
offered him the opportunity to join in their…adventure.
"What are you doing here, by the way?" she
asked curiously.
"I--er--"
Her offer completely threw him off his game, and for a
moment he was fairly certain he was gaping and couldn't remember his own name,
much less why he had come.
Eventually, he shook his head. There was no way he was
going to get his large frame under that small table, no matter how hard he
squeezed. And honestly, he didn’t even really want to try.
“We can make it work,” Miranda insisted, clearly not
taking no for an answer. “I’m sure the twins will love spending quality time
with their uncle Simon.”
She couldn’t possibly know it, but she’d just touched on
his weak spot. He hadn’t been spending as much time as he should have with his
godchildren. If she’d been trying to give him a guilt trip, those words would
have done it, especially given the reason he was here.
“Grab another sheet from the linen closet in the hallway,
and grab a few more books from the shelf,” she instructed. “Oh, and get a chair
from the kitchen. Drape the end of your sheet across the card table and onto
the chair. That’ll give us all a bit more wiggle room. Believe me, these two
are regular squirmy wormies.”
By the time he’d followed all her instructions and
lengthened the makeshift tent, she was fully absorbed reading the twins their
book. He stood before them, wondering how he was going to get where Miranda
wanted him to go.
She flashed the cover of the book at Simon, as if finding
out what she was reading would somehow convince him to crawl in.
“We’re reading Little Red Riding Hood. Hudson
likes the wolf, don’t you, buddy?” she asked the baby, making a growling sound
and tickling his tummy.
Hudson squealed and giggled happily.
“Tell Uncle Simon you want him to come on down,” she said
to Harper, giving her the same affectionate tickling treatment Hudson had just
received. “I think he’s being a little bit stubborn, don’t you?”
Simon balked at her words. He wasn’t being stubborn. He
was being practical.
And this was definitely not how this confrontation was
supposed to go. He hadn’t envisioned anything of the sort when he’d first
knocked on her door, but then, how could he have? This whole scenario was
mind-boggling.
He was losing his momentum by the second and he couldn’t
seem to do anything to stop it.
“But this is—” he started to say.
Ridiculous.
Humiliating.
Mortifying.
She raised a jaunty, dark eyebrow. There was no question
about it. She was outright daring him to make a fool of himself with the
twinkle in her pretty hazel eyes.
This was nuts. He was crazy just to be thinking about it.
There was no way he was going to get out of this with his
dignity intact. But he’d never been the type of man to walk away from a
challenge.
Not now. Not ever.
Grumbling under his breath at the ignominy of it all, he dropped onto his belly to army crawl into the mixed-up files of
Miranda’s imagination makeshift dwelling.
Does this sound fun or what? Babies, puppies and conflicts abound!
I'm excited to share that Texas Christmas Twins is available TODAY at a store near you wherever Harlequin books are sold.
Prefer to read on your favorite eBook reader? Preorder now for delivery December 1st.
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