Patchwork Family. Judy Christenberry

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Judy Christenberry has been writing romances for fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers. Judy quit teaching French recently and devoted her time to writing. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two daughters. Judy’s a native Texan, but now lives in Arizona.

      Who’s Who in Tyler

      Quinn Spencer—His prowess in the courtroom is rivaled only by his skill in the bedroom.

      Molly Blake—Her new Breakfast Inn Bed caters to lovers—but her own bed is empty….

      Sara Blake—She wants a daddy for Christmas….

      Martha Bauer—A master quilter with a sweet tooth…and a soft heart.

      Ursula Wilson—Nothing gets past this old biddy, on Ivy Lane…or anywhere in Tyler, for that matter.

      Emma Finklebaum, Tillie Phelps, Bea Ferguson, Merry Linton and Lydia Perry—Tyler’s Quilting Circle—they sew the most beautiful quilts…and matchmake the most unlikely couples.

      Marge Phelps—The proprietor of Marge’s Diner, where good food is served up along with plenty of gossip.

      Kaitlin Rodier—The keeper of Kaity’s Kids, Tyler’s premier day care center.

      Elias Spencer—This patriarch watches after his sons…but has a wandering eye for the ladies.

      Brady Spencer—He doctors broken bones and broken hearts…all except his own.

      Seth Spencer—The first of the Spencer brothers to fall… Will he be the only one to wed?

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Blood pumped through Molly Blake’s body as she raced across the town square of Tyler, Wisconsin.

      “You’re being ridiculous!” she panted to herself as she ran, but she didn’t slow down. Instead, her mind listed the reasons for panicking.

      Thank God, it wasn’t a large town square. It wasn’t a large town, for that matter. But if she’d had to run any farther, she might have collapsed.

      She leaned for only half a second by the discreetly lettered brass plate that read Trask and Spencer, Attorneys-at-law. With a prayer of hope, she drew a shuddering breath and shoved away from the red-brick wall of the building and slammed back the door to the law offices.

      Warmth flooded her. After all, it was winter in Wisconsin, the beginning of December. Every occupied building had its heat on full blast. And she was still wearing a knitted cap over her messy long braid, still had her navy pea jacket wrapped around her, her gloves on her hands, boots on her feet.

      She shivered. The cold was coming from deep within her. From her fears. From—

      “May I help you?” a pleasant woman asked.

      In the almost shadowy interior of the building, Molly hadn’t really seen her.

      Gasping for air, Molly got out, “I need to see Mrs. Trask, at once. It’s—it’s an emergency!”

      With the calm precision of someone who loves routine, the woman asked, “Are you a client of Mrs. Trask’s?”

      Molly wanted to leap over the desk and yank the woman to her feet by the elegant lapels of her gray suit, even though she couldn’t blame the secretary for her lack of enthusiasm. Molly knew she wasn’t at her best.

      She’d run a few brief errands at the post office and the grocery, after dropping off her child at day care. She’d planned to hurry home to continue refinishing one of the wooden tables she’d bought for the dining room. The stained sweat suit beneath her coat wouldn’t do her any favors in the impression department, either.

      “Yes!” she said, drawing out a hiss as she fought to control her temper.

      “Your name and the nature of your business?” the secretary prodded.

      Dear God, she might throttle the woman yet. “Molly Blake. And I’ll explain the nature of my business to Mrs. Trask. Just tell her I’m here and it’s an emer—”

      “I can’t do that, Ms. Blake.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because she’s out of the office.”

      “What?” Molly

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