Moonlight And Mistletoe. Dawn Temple

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       “I swear, Kyle, sometimes you’re so charming I think you must be part Southern.”

      “It’s not charm. It’s the truth.” His hand tenderly captured hers, his thumb tantalizing her palm. “And for the record, Southern men don’t have a monopoly on complimenting smart, beautiful, giving women.”

      Was it possible for bones to actually melt? Sure seemed like hers were. Even knowing it was a bad idea, Shayna couldn’t seem to keep her hand from flipping over, her fingers tangling with his. “I think the wine might be going to our heads.”

      “I’m dead sober and dying to kiss you.” His voice was so strong and deep, Shayna felt the words all the way down to her toes.

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to Land’s Cross! You’ve picked a wonderful time for a visit. Christmas means the Noël Festival: parades, parties and people donating their time to make the season brighter.

      But this year, the holiday season also brings trouble for our friend Shayna Miller. Her birth father surfaces, offering her a million dollars to publicly endorse his version of their history. Problem is, his version isn’t the truth. Worse yet, the truth could damage her “daddy’s” reputation.

      Personally, attorney Kyle Anderson doesn’t agree with his client’s plan, but until he makes partner, he doesn’t have the luxury of walking away from this case. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Shayna’s backbone—not to mention just how strong her convictions are!

      I really enjoyed playing with the notion of what a person wouldn’t do for a million dollars.

      Here’s hoping life blesses us all with convictions and memories we wouldn’t trade for any price!

      Wishing you laughter and love,

       Dawn

      Moonlight and Mistletoe

      by

      Dawn Temple

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About the Author

      DAWN TEMPLE was born in Louisiana and, despite having now lived more than half her life in Texas, in her heart, she still considers the Bayou State home. Everything about the South appeals to her: lazy days, nosy neighbors, old buildings and ancient trees. But the best thing is the people. In fact, her favorite part of writing is trying to honestly and emotionally capture that warm Southern spirit on the page. She loves to hear readers say they really connected with one of her characters—especially among the eclectic cast she uses to populate the background. Look closely. With any luck, you might recognize a few characters from your own life.

      Dawn lives in the Texas Gulf Coast region with her husband, twin sons and three neurotic dogs. Stop by for a bit of Southern hospitality at www.dawntemple.com where friends are always welcome.

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      Writing a book is like raising a child, and this baby has been blessed by many mothers. Thanks and hugs go to:

      —My own Thomas, Peake and Moore. You ladies helped conceive this story’s bare bones, and I hope you’ll be proud of how she’s grown.

      —Terri Richison, aka the Bionic Critiquer. You helped add life and love—not to mention blood, sweat and tears (literally). Friendship and support, above and beyond, on page and off. You rock!

      —Susan Litman, my generous, patient and awesome editor. You provided the structure and guidance every awkward girl needs to grow into a beautiful woman.

      Thanks for never giving up on me or this story.

      Chapter One

      Shayna Miller gritted her teeth as she grabbed a handful of threadbare red wool and yanked at the hem of her borrowed Ms. Noel costume.

      Good news—she managed to cover a bit more leg.

      Bad news—her boobs nearly popped out.

      Fearful any more tugging would shred the ancient fabric, she let the dress be and faced the mirror, frowning at the pregnant blonde reflected behind her. “This is going to be the first X-rated parade in the history of the Noel Festival.”

      “The dress isn’t that tight.” Lindy Monroe insisted. “Now, quit trying to change the subject. Tell me about Los Angeles.”

      Shayna had avoided her best friend—and this very conversation—since she returned to Land’s Cross two days ago. Judging by the stubborn tilt of Lindy’s chin, she wasn’t going to let the matter drop until Shayna spilled the beans about the reunion with her birth mother, Patty Hoyt.

      “It was horrible,” she admitted sadly. “A huge waste of time and money.”

      “Her letter said she wanted to make amends.” Lindy patted the bedspread near her hip. “So what went wrong?”

      A resigned sigh shuddered through Shayna as she sat. The frightened little girl still huddled in her heart had naively hoped for a loving reunion, for answers to years’ worth of unanswered questions. So much for childish wishes.

      “Patty’s still hustling the next big score. She only invited me to L.A. to talk me into helping with her current scheme.”

      “Which is…?” Lindy prompted.

      “Seems my biological father is a big-shot psychologist who’s been offered a ton of money to star in his own talk show.”

      “Wow. What’s his name?”

      “Steven Walker.” Just saying his name made Shayna feel sick to her stomach.

      “Ohhh. I’ve heard of him. He’s done guest spots on nearly every daytime talk show.”

      “Yep. Turns out they had an affair while he was married, but he dropped her when she got pregnant with me. She said he paid her a bundle to keep quiet,

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