Family Of The Year

Family Of The Year
Patti Standard

FAMILY OF THE YEAREven after a home-cooked meal no hungry rancher could resist, housekeeper Maria Soldata was told to pack her bags, her kids and go home. But after long talks led to forbidden kisses with her handsome boss, the single mom knew this was home…and that she was needed in more ways than one….Single dad Ben Calder could barely handle his own child, let alone Maria's brood! And having sworn off marriage, he definitely couldn't handle how enticingly close the beautiful woman's bedroom was to his. She simply had to go. Thing was, for a man so sure he'd never win any father-of-the-year contests, Ben had somehow formed the family of the year….

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#u76b72696-0372-561e-af4d-86e2e50dea03)

Excerpt (#ue6de3377-a013-5ac7-b3da-547f18f815b3)

Dear Reader (#ucad9a7ba-5d18-5c61-8f5e-d44f254ddf1f)

Title Page (#ud24cf660-784d-5d70-bea6-daa00b1000d6)

Dedication (#ub19256a3-a08d-50e7-a0b7-84336d84bcd9)

About the Author (#u71091cbc-8aff-5048-9bc0-496006a6ffbf)

Chapter One (#u09f4b2fe-8c55-5b68-8f7f-029ac1b0a2d3)

Chapter Two (#ufa4ae913-1a99-5baa-9e0e-21deb0b78ff7)

Chapter Three (#ufaa98f89-ec50-5dd7-bc2c-9786d45b2d74)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Ben Calder had made her aware of his masculinity within minutes,

and had made Maria aware of herself, too. She’d forgotten what it was like to have her heart beat when she met a man’s eyes; she’d forgotten the way her skin could tingle when she stood close to a man. It felt strange to notice the hair on a man’s arms, the strength of his fingers as he’d twisted that jar lid, to notice the beginning of five-o’clock shadow on a strong chin.

Strange, but very pleasant. It had just been so long. So long…

Dear Reader,

What better way for Silhouette Romance to celebrate the holiday season than to celebrate the meaning of family….

You’ll love the way a confirmed bachelor becomes a FABULOUS FATHER just in time for the holidays in Susan Meier’s Merry Christmas, Daddy. And in Mistletoe Bride, Linda Varner’s HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS miniseries merrily continues. The ugly duckling who becomes a beautiful swan will touch your heart in Hometown Wedding by Elizabeth Lane. Doreen Roberts’s A Mom for Christmas tells the tale of a little girl’s holiday wish, and in Patti Standard’s Family of the Year, one man, one woman and a bunch of adorable kids form an unexpected family. And finally, Christmas in July by Leanna Wilson is what a sexy cowboy offers the struggling single mom he wants for his own.

Silhouette Romance novels make the perfect stocking stuffers—or special treats just for yourself. So enjoy all six irresistible books, and most of all, have a very happy holiday season and a very happy New Year!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Romance

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, OnL L2A 5X3

Family of the Year

Patti Standard

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To Jim VanPelt and Walt Disney. Jim’s class gave me the tools; Walt’s videos gave me the times.

And to Jean R. Ewing, a superb Regency romance author, Thanks for the sheep.

PATTI STANDARD

lives in one of the most beautiful spots in Colorado-but can’t seem to stay put. She loves to travel, and she and her husband leave their engineering firm and take off for parts unknown as often as they can get Grandma to baby-sit. With three children, an assortment of pets, a yard with a life of its own, and a home business where clients are forced to wade through the remains of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to get to the office door, Patti needs regular vacations to keep her romantic batteries charged. She’s a die-hard Trekkie with a mad crush on Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and the heroes of her novels are always bald in the first draft.

Chapter One (#ulink_8f1efc35-7c93-5830-b277-5b2e094e3e0f)

Benjamin Calder stood on the steps of the ranch house and looked down the driveway. He’d followed the roiling cloud of dust for the past few minutes, watching it turn off what passed for the main road and head toward the house. The cloud thinned and almost disappeared for a moment where the road ran through a stand of cottonwood trees down by the pond, only to reappear again near the fenced pasture. The billowing dust came close enough to separate out a car, something wide and vaguely green.

He looked at his watch, a wide silver band with an unpolished turquoise set on each side of the scratched face. It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon, just when she said she’d be there. Prompt. That was good. She must not have had any trouble on the way up from Phoenix. But Ben’s guarded satisfaction with his new housekeeper was shortlived. The old station wagon came to a gravel-crunching stop in front of him and he caught a glimpse of the car’s interior through the dusty windows. He was instantly wary. The driver, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, had her head turned and was talking and gesturing toward the seats in back—seats that were filled with rows and rows of heads.

Too many heads, Ben thought with a frown.

The engine tried to die, coughing and choking as if the long, gritty drive had robbed it of breath. Just as the last sputter sounded, the dented door at the rear of the station wagon swung open and out tumbled two dark-haired, wide-eyed little girls. The doors in the middle opened and a dark-haired boy ran to join them. From the other side, he saw a young woman emerge, a bundle carefully balanced in her arms. She rounded the car to stand beside the children and Ben’s frown deepened as the bundle wiggled and a tiny arm began to bat at the air.

The passenger door opened next. An old woman, gray hair in a low bun, hoisted herself to her feet using the door’s armrest and a thick, carved walking stick for leverage. She was still shuffling slowly over to join the rest of the group when the driver finally got out, her back to him. She stretched, arching her slender back and then rounding her shoulders inward, twisting her head from side to side while she tucked the end of a yellow blouse into her jeans.

She turned to face him. Dark haired and olive skinned like the rest, slim, not much taller than the look-alike children, with brown eyes that took up her whole face, she moved to the front of the too-silent group. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She took on a dignity that belied the dented old car and the tired lines around those magnificent eyes.

“I am Maria Soldata,” she announced.