The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!

The comment caused him to rear back in surprise—which wasn’t a good thing since he was teetering off balance in his chair. Morgan yelped when the chair tipped back and crashed to the floor—with him in it.

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to be writing my fourth romantic comedy because love and laughter are the perfect combination for a story. In The Family Feud, Jan Mitchell is trying to reconcile her middle-age-crazy parents, but her old flame, Morgan Price, lands right smack-dab in the middle of the family feud. Ignoring him is about as easy as ignoring a rumbling volcano. Jan doesn’t need a distraction during her family’s fiasco, but there’s Morgan, handsome and sexy as ever.

So what’s a woman to do but fall head over heels for the first love of her life and hope she doesn’t get her heart broken a second time.

Enjoy!

Carol Finch

Books by Carol Finch

HARLEQUIN DUETS

36—FIT TO BE TIED

45—A REGULAR JOE

62—MR. PREDICTABLE

SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION

1242—NOT JUST ANOTHER COWBOY

1320—SOUL MATES

HARLEQUIN HISTORICALS

592—CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed,

and our children—Kurt, Jill, Christie, Jon and Jeff—

with much love. And our grandchildren—

Blake, Kennedy, Brooklyn and Livia.

Hugs and kisses!

1

“SHE’S HERE, Morgan. I figured Sylvia would call her in to resolve the family crisis.” Grimly, John Mitchell stared out the hardware store window. “Damn it, I didn’t want my older daughter in the middle of this feud.”

Morgan Price strode down the aisle of his store to halt beside John, who was keeping surveillance on the dress shop directly across the street. It seemed to Morgan that John spent an excessive amount of time staring at Sylvia’s Boutique rather than simply hiking across the bricked street to work out his differences with his estranged wife. For Morgan, it was like being caught in the middle of a war zone during the Mitchell family feud, with one enemy camp keeping close observation on the other.

The Mitchell family feud had become the talk of this small hamlet of Oz that was located in the heart of Oklahoma’s peanut country. Naturally, Morgan’s mother, who delighted in being in the limelight every chance she got, wasted no time in fueling the fire by flirting outrageously with John.

Morgan’s thoughts scattered like buckshot when Janna Mitchell slid one well-shaped, hose-clad leg from the low-slung car and rose to full stature. Wow! The shy, plain-Jane teenager he remembered from high school had obviously been a late bloomer. She’d blossomed into a strikingly attractive, curvaceous woman. Sighing in masculine appreciation, Morgan pressed his nose to the window to thoroughly appraise Janna.

Her chestnut hair was knotted in a tight, sophisticated something-or-other—Morgan had no idea what names applied to feminine hairdos. Despite Janna’s streamlined navy blue silk business suit—that had expensive written all over it—Morgan could tell Janna had filled out in all the right places these past twelve years. The assertive way Janna held herself indicated she’d acquired the poise and self-confidence she’d lacked at shy, uncertain sixteen. That sweet, wide-eyed innocent teenager who’d been self-conscious about the metal braces on her teeth, and rarely smiled, had changed dramatically. She drew Morgan’s marveling gaze and his fascination like a magnet.

“Five’ll getcha ten that Janna hotfoots it over here to talk sense into me within fifteen minutes. Soon as Sylvia tells her twisted side of the story,” John Mitchell muttered resentfully.

“Here’s a thought,” Morgan supplied helpfully, without taking his fascinated gaze off Janna, “why don’t you hightail it across the street to intercept Janna and present your version of the feud first?”

John shook his head stubbornly. “Nope. I’m not going near that damn dress shop. I didn’t want Sylvia to buy it in the first place. She openly defied me and that was the beginning of our problems.”

Morgan slanted the older man a pointed glance. “That, and the fact that you purchased a Winnebago without consulting Sylvia first.”

John snapped his head around to stare belligerently at Morgan. “Well, I couldn’t let her walk all over me, could I? I’ve been giving in to my wife for thirty-three years. When I retired from teaching woodwork at the high school I decided my lifestyle and attitude were going to change.”

Morgan smiled in amusement when John refocused on the dress shop directly across the street. He’d lost count of the number of times the past month that John had stood as sentinel at the window, monitoring the comings and goings at Sylvia’s Boutique. Yet, when Sylvia appeared John commenced muttering and scowling.

Since John had come to work part-time at the hardware store, he and Morgan had become close friends. Therefore, Morgan was well versed in the squabbles that had caused John and Sylvia’s separation. As far as Morgan could tell, John had some legitimate complaints, but he suspected Sylvia had a few legitimate complaints of her own. However, according to John, there was supposed to be give and take in a marriage. John insisted he’d done the majority of giving for years—he, being the minority male in a household of a wife and two daughters. John had declared his independence now that he’d raised his family and put in his time teaching.

The feud was about to enter another dimension now that Janna Mitchell had arrived on the scene to resolve the rift between her parents. Morgan wasn’t sure it would be easy because John and Sylvia were both stubborn and set in their ways. John was dead-set on having his terms met. Ditto for Sylvia. This feud could get ugly, especially since Morgan’s mother had decided to work her wiles on John.

“I better round up the hardware I need for your mother’s new kitchen cabinets so I can get the hell outta Dodge before Janna comes gunning for me,” John grumbled as he glanced at his watch. “Soon as I get the door pulls, drawer sliders and hinges counted out and bagged up, I’m outta here.”

When John wheeled like a soldier on parade and marched toward the cabinet hardware section of the store, Morgan followed on his heels. “I’ll help you set Mom’s new cabinets in place when I get off work this evening.”

John smiled gratefully. “You don’t know how many times I wished for a son to help me with my moonlighting projects and to take my side against my wife and daughters. It would’ve evened the odds. If I could pick a son you’d definitely be him.”

“Thanks, John. The feeling’s mutual,” he said affectionately. “I would’ve liked having you for a dad.”

“You could’ve used one as a kid,” John agreed, then winked. “Maybe it isn’t too late to make that wish come true, if you know what I mean.”

Morgan didn’t reply, just scooped up cabinet door pulls and then crammed them in another sack. If his mother had her way, John Mitchell would become husband number four. John thought he had marriage problems now! Morgan inwardly winced at the prospect of John getting tangled up with Georgina Price and her ever-changing whims.

Although Morgan loved his mother he was aware of her flaws. She was fickle and flirtatious by nature and by choice and she’d yet to remain in a relationship for more than five years—she’d only lasted three years with Morgan’s dad. Marriage, as far as Morgan could tell, was worse than shooting rapids on a raging river. It was risky at best. He had firsthand experience at how divorce could cause upheaval in a person’s life, since he and his mother had been through three of them. Morgan wanted no part of it, and he sympathized with John’s emotional pandemonium.

“Hurry up and help me gather the rest of the stuff I need for your mother’s remodeling project,” John requested, casting a wary glance toward the front door. “I’m not in the mood to deal with Janna right now.”

Morgan quickened his pace, amused by John’s determination to avoid his older daughter. If Morgan didn’t know better he’d swear John was afraid Janna would grab him by the collar and drag him to the bargaining table to negotiate a compromise for the feud. Janna? That five-foot nothing of a female? Intimidating? Morgan couldn’t satisfactorily link that characteristic to the timid, unassuming teenager he’d known in high school.

THE MOMENT Jan Mitchell entered Sylvia’s Boutique her mother shrieked in delight and dashed forward to envelop her in a smothering hug. “Thank God, you’re here! I knew you’d come!” Sylvia gushed. “You’ve got to do something about your father. He’s driving me crazy and embarrassing me in front of my friends and customers.”

When Sylvia stepped back, Jan appraised her mother’s stylish linen dress and perfect hairdo. Except for the hint of tears in Sylvia’s striking blue eyes she looked as vibrant, sophisticated and youthful as ever. The only thing missing was John Mitchell at Sylvia’s side. Jan still couldn’t believe her parents had split up. It was inconceivable there could be trouble in paradise after three decades of marriage. How did this happen?

Sylvia grabbed Jan by the shoulders and spun her toward the door she’d just entered. “Get over to the hardware store and talk to your father,” she commanded. “He won’t be there much longer.”

“Why? Where’s he going?”

Sylvia shoveled Jan out the door. “He’s going out to Georgina Price’s house to remodel her kitchen. Or so he claims,” Sylvia said scornfully. “They’re having an affair.”

“What?” Jan chirped in astonishment.