A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER by Kay Stockham

MARLEY ENTERED her parents’ house and listened intently. How could anyone be that quiet?

“Mama, you home?” She walked through the foyer and into the kitchen, carrying the miniature sunflower she’d bought at the nursery.

It had been a successful trip, not as expensive as she’d thought it would be, so she hummed as she searched the cabinets for a plastic plate to go underneath the pot. She found what she needed in her mother’s old entertaining stash gathering dust in the pantry. At the sink, a quick flip of the tap watered the dry soil.

Marley smiled down at the bright flower, amazed how something so simple could cheer her up on just about any given day. There was something about growing things, nurturing them from seeds and watching them blossom into something beautiful.

Please let her like it.

“What are you doing?”

At the edge she heard in the softly spoken query Marley froze, then pasted a smile back on her lips before turning to face her mother. She was still in her housecoat, the burgundy and black colors fading her already pale complexion to ghostlike extremes. At forty-five, Donna Pierce appeared older, the lines and grooves around her mouth and eyes telling a traumatic story.

“I, um, dropped by to bring you this.” She forced into her tone a cheeriness she didn’t feel. “Isn’t it beautiful? I thought you’d like the reds and oranges, and the pot matches the kitchen. Can’t beat that, right?”

Her mother didn’t move, much less look at the pot. “It’s very nice, Marley, but you shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Oh, it was no bother. I thought you’d like it so I--”

“You know how forgetful I am these days. It won’t get watered properly and then you’ll have wasted your money.”

So much for being appreciative. Strained, Marley glanced around the immaculate kitchen and noted that the housekeeper had come recently to clean. “Um... Have you eaten lunch? I thought we could--”

“Roberta is dropping by soon,” her mother said with a glance at her watch. “I need to get dressed and... She said we have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I could get lunch and bring it back for u--” She broke off when she spied the look of utter panic flickering across her mother’s face. “I guess not.” Marley wet her dry lips. “Mama, are you ever going to feel comfortable having me around your friends again?”

Her mother wrung her hands. “I don’t know what you mean. If you want to stay, Marley, stay.”

Now that was a warm invitation. Marley shook her head, an attempt to fend off the hurt threatening her. Dwelling on it only made it worse. “You know what, forget it. I’ve got a lot of work to do today and you don’t see your friends that often. Just forget I asked.”

Her mother padded over to the cabinet and after retrieving a glass, she poured herself some water. Her hands trembled as she pulled a small, brown bottle from her pocket and shook out a tiny white pill.

Marley stepped closer, watching her. “Are you sick?”

“No. It’s just—it’s just something Dr. Bourke gave me to calm my nerves when... when I get upset.”

Like when I’m around? Marley fisted her hands and refused to give in to the tears stinging her eyes. She had to stop reading things into her mother’s comments, but how could she not after “the incident”? “Dr. Myners was your doctor for years. Why did you switch?”

Casual conversation was good. They needed to stick with it. Build a bridge over the past since they couldn’t seem to wade through it no matter how hard she tried to make up for embarrassing her mother with a teenage pregnancy.

“I still see him.” Her mother placed the pill on her tongue with the delicateness of a Duchess at tea and swallowed, taking a drink before setting the cup aside.

Desperate, Marley stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her mom, but the moment she did she felt the tension, the awkwardness, and her hopes fell as they always did. Five years and counting and her mother still hadn’t forgiven her. “I love you, Ma.”
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From the book A Christmas To Remember by Kay Stockham Harlequin Superromance ® November 2007, ISBN 978-0373714537, ©2007 Dorma Kay Stockham.
Cover Copyright ©2007 Harlequin Enterprises Limited ® and T are trademarks of the publisher. The excerpt published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com

HIS PERFECT WOMAN by Kay Stockham

His small-town practice would be heaven if it weren't for the women hounding Dr. Bryan Booker. Tired of playing games and dodging passes, the handsome doctor is resigned to staying single. Until he's guilted into hiring a new office assistant, and she makes him consider changing his mind.

Melissa York is a big surprise. Despite all she's been through, she's tough, bold and beautiful. But can the town's most-sought-after bachelor persuade the survivor who thinks she's damaged goods that when he looks at her he sees his perfect wife?

A beauiful, touching story about life after cancer by Kay Stockham.

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

Melissa locked the front door to the practice that evening and forced herself not to drop her head to the surface with a groan.

“It wasn’t what you thought.”

Tensing, she squared her shoulders. Smiling was more difficult, but she managed a weak attempt. “Your sex life is none of my business.”

“I didn’t have sex with her in the exam room.”

“Sneak her into your office instead?” Shut up, shut up, shut up! “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” She didn’t look at him as she stalked over to the desk.

“For the record, I didn’t invite her into my office or anywhere else in the practice for a quickie. I don’t sleep with married women.”

Relief poured through her at his words. “Good for you. Especially if you’re serious about this fund-raiser. A big no-no is sleeping with the mayor’s wife. People have a tendency to frown on such things, and he won by a landslide.”

“Amanda was a mistake I made when I first moved here. I ended it right afterward, but she hasn’t taken the hint and comes back periodically to try again.”

“I’m sure the mayor appreciates that.” Melissa yanked open the drawer that held her purse. She was going home. Then maybe to the B and B. Some time spent baby snuggling would surely lower her BP, and right now it had to be sky-high. Not woman enough?

It didn’t take a woman to sleep around or cheat on a husband. In her opinion, it took one not to.

“Melissa.” Bryan turned her to face him. “I’m sorry she took her anger with me out on you.”

“Forget it.” She pulled away. “I know exactly what I am, and she’s right.”

“Right in what way?”

“Oh, please, isn’t it obvious? You practically made a puddle right there on the floor when she flashed her cleavage at you! And that remark about being woman enough? It takes more than playing the sex kitten to be ‘woman enough.’”

“Then we agree, but how is she right?”

“Because it’s also normal to think a female with bib boobs and a decent set of features is attractive, married or not, and that’s how she’s right—because men have brainwashed women to measure their worth through the size of their breasts, and regardless of my history and what people know about me, I’m woman enough to realize that isn’t true.”

“What if I told you it’s not just women who can make the distinction?” he argued. “What if I said guys like more than breasts in a woman?”

She raised her brows high and her arms crossed over her front—her flat front. “I’d say you’re wrong. There’s no need to lie or sugarcoat the obvious. Guys like breasts. Her comment didn’t hurt me, what hurts is the fact that the general population thinks the same way she does.”

“Why do you think that?”

Swallowing, she rolled her eyes, her anger surging up with tidal-wave strength and gushing out of her. “The first thing guys notice is a woman’s breasts, the bounce, the jiggle, whether or not their shirt is see-through. But if a woman doesn’t have the necessary body parts or, let’s say she does and they’re not to the guy’s satisfaction, then lo and behold, he suggests augmentation. It comes down to this—guys can be less than impressive, but heaven forbid a woman doesn’t have a body like a model, the breasts of a porn star or the sex drive of a teenaged boy because that upsets them! Men have no idea what real women are like—and neither does Amanda Warner.”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “You can’t lump men into a single category. Not all of us are obsessed with breasts.”

She snorted. What did he know about not being perfect? “Yeah, well, argue all you want, but when faced with someone like me in bed I’d bet you’d be all talk and no action.”

Silence.

Melissa stared up into Bryan’s face, her heart pounding so rapidly she actually saw spots in front of her eyes. Had she really just gone off on Bryan like a bitter, breastless shrew? He was her boss! Her words had come out like a challenge. Like she begged him to–

Whirling, breathless, Melissa grabbed her purse and ran for the back door, well aware Bryan’s eyes bored a whole into her back. What had she done? What had she said?

She’d never be able to face Bryan again.

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HER BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER by Kay Stockham

How could this have happened?

They had one night. That's all Shelby Brookes would allow herself to indulge in with Luke Tulane. Yes, he's gorgeous and yes, he's the greatest guy she knows, but he's her best friend's brother for crying out loud! And she's pretty sure there are rules against sleeping with friends' brothers.

Then Shelby discovers she's pregnant. And Luke's determined to do the right thing - down to the bended knee proposal and the meeting at the altar. As tempting as his offer is, Shelby's convinced she's not the marrying kind. She's bound to hurt him and that's definitely against the rules of friendship. Still, she doesn't count on how persuasive Luke can be when he really wants something...her.

This book in Kay Stockham's Tulanes of Tennessee Series was chosen an RT Top Pick and given 4 1/2 stars.








Excerpt

Tossing one’s cookies on gorgeous Italian leather shoes had a way of ruining a girl’s day.

Shelby Brookes gasped for air and glared down at the offending footwear, glad she knew better than to spend her hard-earned cash on overpriced shoes that wore the same as the regular-priced ones. But Luke Tulane had been raised with the best of everything and he obviously didn’t realize no woman liked seeing a man wearing better shoes than she owned herself.

“Sorry.”

The word came out as a gasp. A choked, oh please, not again, groan of undisguised misery as her stomach muscles flip-flopped like circus clowns on a trampoline. This could not be happening.

“Bad day?”

Her head whirled, the ground jiggled in strange, wavy patterns, but the anger in his tone registered. The why-didn’t-you-just-pick-up-the-freaking-phone-and-return-my-messages-the-five-times-I-called-you snap of a bruised male ego. Can you blame him?

As Shelby swallowed and tried to hold onto what was left of her lunch, thoughts filed through her head in rapid succession. Luke had flown home to Beauty, Tennessee, to attend the first family wedding back in June when his older brother, Garret, had married Darcy Rhodes. Now it was nearing the end of August and Luke had flown home again, this time because his twin brother, Nick, had found love with Jennifer Rose.

But instead of avoiding Shelby like any normal person would do in such an awkward situation, Luke had repeatedly sought her out--because of what had taken place between them behind the scenes after Garret and Darcy’s rehearsal dinner.

You brought this on yourself, you know. You kissed him, not the other way around. You weren’t complaining then.

Maybe not, but she regretted it. Didn’t that count for something?

She’d tried to do the right thing by keeping her distance and avoiding him. It was after the fact, sure, but she’d tried. Yet here Luke stood toe-to—knee, and--there was no ducking him now.
I puked on your shoes. Your shoes! Haven’t you had enough?

“Last night catch up to you?”

Oh, of all the— Even though she’d felt like she could’ve used the fortification, she hadn’t had a single drink last night, knowing her twelve hour shift would be hard enough to handle given the huge possibility she’d run into Luke. Besides, she never drank much when she did occasionally indulge, having seen how alcohol influenced her mother’s behavior. Following in her mother’s footsteps wasn’t Shelby’s idea of a good time. It was bad enough her mother gave the town gossips so much fodder, Shelby wasn’t about to add to it.

You mean like now?

She didn’t raise her head, not when the slightest movement made the waves of nausea buffeting her that much worse.

How much worse could it be? You’re on your hands and knees at the man’s feet!

Yeah, well, if embarrassment killed, she would’ve been dead a long time ago. Growing up with a mother who played the drama queen to the hilt at every opportunity would’ve seen to that.

“Come on, I’ll help you inside.”

Inside? To gossip-central? No thank you. “G-go away.”

“Shelby, I can’t leave you here like this.”

He had to. She didn’t want him laughing at her misery because he was angry with her. And why wouldn’t he be when she was so upset with herself? How could she have been so stupid? Shagging her best friend’s brother? That ranked right up there with—with— Well, she didn’t quite know what but it was huge! “Cont-tagious.”

She had no idea if she was contagious or not, but she’d tell Luke she had the Bubonic Plague before she’d allow him to drag her anywhere, much less into the wedding reception. The wind created by the gossips’ mouths flapping would blow the roof off the building.

Shelby inhaled and got a nose-full of roses and wild onions from the woods nearby. Oh, help me.

The smell had her stomach rolling again and she struggled to hold back a moan.

A white silk handkerchief appeared before her eyes. “Here. Take it.”

When all she did was stare, Luke released a long-suffering sigh, a noise she’d heard him issue many, many times over the years. Usually it was in respect to his sister and her best friend, Alex, though. Not her.

“Quit being so stubborn. Take it.”

Since it boiled down to using either the handkerchief, her shirt, or the country club’s crested employee jacket, she let go of her death grip on the manicured lawn and accepted the pristine material, finding perverse pleasure at wiping her mouth on the length.

Cheese Curls and silk—what a combination.

Another wave of nausea flooded her at the thought of her favorite snack and Shelby clamped her mouth shut, afraid she’d embarrass herself even more than she already had.

“I’ll go get Ethan.”

“No.” She prayed to disappear. Where was a sinkhole when a girl needed one? “I’m f-fine.”

Oh, what a whopper that was. Her arms hurt from holding herself up, geeky-sexy Luke Tulane stood over her watching—and all she could see in her mind was how he’d looked naked.

You are so screwed up.

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Shelby scrambled for a comeback and called herself lame when nothing came to mind. “Something’s been g-going around. A twenty-four hour thing.”

“Shelby--”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t make a fuss. Mr. Long is watching me like a hawk.” Or a buzzard. Which one had the long beak of a nose? Focus. “It took me three interviews--” Oh, those onions were awful! “--to get this job.”

And she knew why she’d succeeded. Luke’s parents and grandmother had gone to bat for her. There was no other explanation.

And you repaid them how?

She ignored the snippy voice in her head shaming her for her jumping Luke’s bones, and concentrated on feeling better. “I can’t lose it.” Mr. Long was a fountain of restaurant managerial experience, something she needed to soak in like a sponge. Getting fired was not an option.

Luke squatted down beside her, well out of range, and placed his hand on her back. “What can I do? Would you like something to drink?”

She nodded, willing to agree to just about anything to get him away from her. That night in June she’d considered Luke the perfect person to distract her from her horrendous day. But now what she needed was someone who’d distract him. “A-a soda.”

“You shouldn’t drink that stuff. It’s not healthy.”

Shelby rolled her eyes and regretted the movement because of the pain it caused in her pounding head. He’d told her that more than once but she happened to like caffeine and sugar.

"It settles my stomach.”

The air from his gusty sigh cooled the sweat on her neck. “I hate leaving you here. The least I can do is help you to a--”

“Don’t touch me!” Weren’t his shoes enough? “Luke, just go.” She sounded desperate, close to pleading, but she was. What woman wanted to do this in front of--

An amazing one night stand?

Uncomfortable, I-can’t-believe-we-did-that memories filled her head, but thankfully her order to leave worked because Luke’s footsteps faded away. Feeling better now that she was alone, Shelby lifted her head and watched as Luke disappeared around a statue. When he was out of sight, she slowly pushed herself upright and sat back on her heels.

The boxwood hedges provided a nice shield from prying eyes, but how long would it be before someone came for a stroll? The gazebo in the center of the garden had been a trysting place for more than a few couples over the years. Rumor even had it Luke’s grandmother, Rosetta Tulane, had conceived one of her children there.

Imagining a younger version of Luke’s spunky grandmother getting it on in a public place brought a smile to Shelby’s lips despite the nausea still churning her belly. Seconds passed, and little by little she felt more human. Until she spied her uniform pants. “No! Oh, no. Oh, crap!”

They were ruined! Why on earth would anyone choose white linen as the required uniform for the working class?

Because hugging the grass and hurling isn’t in your job description?

Shelby groaned and ignored the quivering inside her body. She grabbed her purse and shoved herself onto her wobbly legs, moving like a hundred twenty-eight year old instead of twenty-eight, which gave her plenty of time to take in the bright green stains decorating both knees.

“Fifty bucks down the drain.”

Maybe she could have the pants altered and convince Mr. Long to let her wear them as elegant summer shorts? Hearing his clipped, British response in her head, she brushed the grass blades sticking so stubbornly to her clothing and waited for the world to stop spinning. She couldn’t worry about her pants now. She had to get out of there before Luke came back and things got…sticky.

They were hot and sticky that night and you didn’t seem to mind.

Shut. Up!

She’d walked that embarrassingly painful mental path every day since they’d slept together, asked herself why repeatedly. Why hadn’t she gone home and taken her upset and frustration out by baking? Why hadn’t she done something constructive that would’ve helped her meet her goal? Why had she made such a horrendous mistake with her best friend’s brother? Why, why, why?

Because you liked it, her mind taunted, you really liked it.

Her entire body flushed with heat. Yeah, she’d liked it—until it was over and the consequences of her actions had walloped her a good one upside the head. Alex would be beside herself if she found out. Her best friend was most protective of Luke, closer to him because of the divide that had developed between Luke and his twin, Nick, growing up. But while Luke might have updated his geeky glasses to the kind worn by business studs photographed for magazine ads and lost the boring shirts his mother had always bought for him, Luke was still Alex’s favorite brother because Alex claimed he was more sensitive than the rest, more caring and astute than the siblings Alex sometimes referred to as ‘blockheads.’

Shelby stumbled across the grounds around the backside of the club, trying ineffectively to shove the memory of doing Alex’s favorite brother from her mind. It was over. Done. A mistake that would not be repeated. It was past time to stop worrying about something she couldn’t change and just put the incident behind her. She couldn’t let what happened cloud her thinking--or make her so nervous she got sick. As soon as she got home she’d…call Luke and apologize?

Swear him to secrecy? Beg him to keep his distance?

How about all of the above?

Shelby made her way to a pea-gravel path, her heels sinking with every step. It would’ve been a lot quicker to have traveled straight through the middle of the country club, but she chanced running into Luke or Alex, or worse yet, Mr. Long. Throwing up at home was bad enough, but in public wearing full makeup?

Her foundation was probably gone, her eyes raccooned. Plus her stomach was still rolling like a fun park coaster.

“Just keep moving.” The thought of Luke behind her, closing in and demanding to talk to her now made her put one foot in front of the other. She didn’t want a scene, couldn’t risk someone overhearing Luke demanding answers for her behavior or her having to tell him she’d do anything to take it all back. The night had been wonderful. Perfect. It was the fact that it was Luke that bit the big one.

Shelby rounded the corner of the club and continued downhill to the employee parking lot. She’d almost made it to her car when her three-inch heel skidded on a rock. “Ow! Oh, ow.” Just what she needed. What else was going to happen?

She hobbled the rest of the way and fell inside, absurdly thankful that the pain helped clear her head. Hurry. She had to hurry. She’d practically lived with the Tulanes growing up. If they found out she’d kissed Luke in places his mama hadn’t seen for nearly thirty years, nothing would ever be the same.

Shelby fastened her seatbelt and took the exit farthest from the clubhouse, checking her rearview mirror for any sight of Luke’s tall form and rubbing at the mascara smeared down her cheek.

All she wanted to do was go home, get out of her icky clothes, take a quick shower and--strangely enough--eat more cheese curls.

Copyright ©2008 Harlequin Enterprises Limited ® and T are trademarks of the publisher. The excerpt published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com

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