Three Boys and a Baby

Three Boys and a Baby
Laura Marie Altom

Two's A Handful… Three's Trouble!Dr. Ella Garvey's eight-year-old twins loved to stir things up. But when they hatched a daring plan with her neighbor's son, Dillon, to keep a baby they'd found abandoned in the park, it was mischief times ten. The parents' frantic search for the runaways caused the normally take-charge pediatrician not only to fall apart, but also to start falling for Jackson Tate, Dillon's divorced dad. Ella wanted a fairy-tale ending.But then the firefighter's ex arrived on the scene, and now Dillon expected his father to turn back the clock. Of course, Ella loved the idea of sharing three boys and a baby. But when it came to the man she wanted to marry, it was strictly hands off!

“What about the baby?” Oliver asked. “We just can’t leave her here.”

“Dr. Shepherd wants to check her over at the hospital,” Ella explained.

“But I thought you were the baby doctor?”

“I am, sweetie, but Sheriff Hank figured I’d probably want to spend time with my own babies tonight.”

“I’m not a baby,” Oliver pointed out.

“I am,” Owen said. “I’m never running away—Hey, look! There’s Dillon’s mom. And she’s crying and hugging his dad. They getting married again?”

The polite thing would have been to grant them some privacy. So how come Ella couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of Jackson with his ex?

Dear Reader,

As an eighties teen, one of my fave movies was Three Men and a Baby—and of course the sequel! The concept of those three hunky, accomplished men falling to pieces while caring for that sweet little baby always makes me smile. Which is why, after seeing a late-night running of the film, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if three equally adorable little boys were to find themselves in a similar situation. Being kids, of course, their parents would have to be brought into the situation, and naturally, mayhem ensues!

Even before having a newborn thrust into their lives, Ella and Jackson both have plenty of personal issues to work through. Longtime acquaintances, the two find it all too easy to fall for each other over baby bathing and feedings. Trouble is, seeing how Jackson’s son has his heart set on a reunion between his recently divorced parents, this hunky fireman has no business falling for a pretty pediatrician!

Happy reading!

Laura Marie

Three Boys and a Baby

Laura Marie Altom

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys an almost glamorous lifestyle of zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out, and constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura is content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her kids and handsome hubby.

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail: BaliPalm@aol.com. Love lounging on the beach while winning fun stuff? Check out lauramariealtom.com!

For my new friend and partner in miscellaneous

mischief, Melinda Taylor. You’re a hoot!

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Cool! Can we keep it?”

Oliver Garvey, a full minute older than his identical eight-year-old twin, Owen, peeked into the basket and fell in love. The baby was a girl. He knew, because her blanket was pink. So were her pajamas, but the note that was safety-pinned to them was written on yellow paper. It read: Please take care of me. Since Oliver was oldest, and therefore smartest, he said, “Duh. Of course we’re gonna keep it. What kind of dummy are you?”

“Don’t call me a dummy,” Owen said, almost falling off the neighborhood park’s merry-go-round while making a fist.

“You’re a dummy.”

“Can I name her?” their seven-year-old neighbor and friend, Dillon Tate, asked. “I always wanted a baby, but Dad says they’re loud and smelly.”

“She doesn’t seem loud or smelly to me,” Owen said.

“Just wait till she poops.” Oliver sniffed the part of her blanket where the stinky stuff would be. “I saw in a movie one time where babies poop a lot. We’re going to have to find some diapers.”

“I bet Mom has some,” Owen suggested. “We’ll tell her to bring ’em home from the clinic.” Their mother was a kid doctor, so she always had kid gear around in case of an emergency. Lots of times they’d seen her do medicine stuff, so Owen was pretty much a doctor himself.

“No!” Dillon crossed his arms and stomped his right foot.