Never trust a Monroe—
Especially if she steals your heart!
To mayor and single dad Mitch Kincaid, Second Chance, Idaho, is something of a time capsule, and he wants to keep it that way. His problem? Gorgeous pregnant redhead Laurel Monroe, who, along with her family, now owns the town. But sometimes all it takes is an unexpected opportunity—and a snowstorm—to turn Mitch’s bad first impressions into a second chance at love!
“You’re bored here.”
“Incredibly.” Laurel leaned forward. “How could you tell?”
“Besides the fidgeting? Maybe because you’re butting into my business.” Mitch grinned.
She seemed to be studying his face. “I thought we were having a conversation about how to find some peaceful common territory.” She shook her head. “You know, when I was battling morning sickness you talked to me differently. But I guess that was before you decided I was Monroe-tainted devil spawn.”
“Let’s be honest...” Not completely honest. He wasn’t going to tell her he wanted to lean forward and kiss her sometimes. “I realize my daughter is going to leave Second Chance one day. But I’d like her to be happy here before she leaves. And people like you and your family are trouble, so—”
Laurel drew a sharp intake of breath.
There was something about this woman that reached around logic and reality, that reached a place few women had been able to touch, that shook him to his core.
Attraction, his brain whispered.
Annoyance, he corrected stubbornly.
Because Laurel stood for everything he’d run from in Chicago...
Dear Reader,
Guess who inherited a town from her grandfather? Laurel Monroe and her eleven siblings and cousins! What did Second Chance mean to Harlan Monroe? Why did he leave it to his grandchildren? His adult heirs are going to find out. And while they’re at it, they’ll get a second chance at love.
It’s a well-kept secret that Laurel Monroe sometimes stands in for her identical twin, famous actress Ashley. And usually it’s no harm, no foul. But there’s a reason Laurel is hiding out in Second Chance. She pretended to be her sister, and something went incredibly wrong. Pregnant. Fired. She needs a little TLC. She might not get it from single dad Mitch Kincaid, owner of Second Chance’s only inn. He’s not sure she’s a good role model for his precocious twelve-year-old daughter. And he can’t wait to get rid of her. Too bad the snow is so heavy all the mountain passes are closed...
I hope you come to love The Mountain Monroes as much as I do. Happy reading!
Melinda
Snowed in with the Single Dad
Melinda Curtis
Prior to writing romance, award-winning USA TODAY bestseller Melinda Curtis was a junior manager for a Fortune 500 company, which meant when she flew on the private jet, she was relegated to the jump seat. After grabbing her pen (and a parachute), she made the leap to full-time writer. Between writing clean romance for Harlequin and indie-pubbed romantic comedy, Melinda recently came to grips with the fact that she’s an empty nester and a grandma. Brenda Novak says Melinda’s book Season of Change “found a place on my keeper shelf.”
Books by Melinda Curtis
Harlequin Heartwarming
A Harmony Valley Novel
Dandelion Wishes
A Memory Away
Summer Kisses
Marrying the Single Dad
Season of Change
Love, Special Delivery
A Perfect Year
Support Your Local Sheriff
Time for Love
Marrying the Wedding Crasher
A Heartwarming Thanksgiving
“Married by Thanksgiving”
Make Me a Match
“Baby, Baby”
Return of the Blackwell Brothers
The Rancher’s Redemption
Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.
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Contents
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM ALMOST A BRIDE BY RULA SINARA
PROLOGUE
ONCE UPON A TIME, there were two little redheaded girls. Identical twins who lived in Hollywood, were best friends and wore princess dresses whenever they could get away with it.
Their parents were Hollywood royalty—a studio head and a talent agent. Said parents traveled, a lot. They entertained, a lot. But they also fought, a lot, which upset the girls.
Laurel was a girlie girl, in love with shoes and fabrics, hairstyles and makeup, peace and quiet. From an early age, she devoured fashion magazines and red-carpet shows. She begged the family maid to teach her how to sew, imagining a future where she created pretty dresses for celebrities. Making smooth, even stitches became a welcome escape from the household’s chaos. But sometimes, there was no escape.
As for Ashley... She might have watched too many soap operas and romantic movies while the maid taught Laurel to sew. Those hours in front of the TV gave Ashley a fascination with people, their emotions and how they expressed them. The slightest of smiles, the well of tears, the shudder of bent shoulders. Body language said so much without saying anything at all. And pretending to be a character on-screen? That was sometimes better than being Ashley Monroe.
Like many identical twins, Laurel and Ashley learned early on that one could easily be mistaken for the other. And like many identical twins, they learned early on to take advantage of their mirrorlike facades and implement what they called “The Twin Switch.”
The girls would have lived happily ever after in obscurity if not for their parents stumbling upon five-year-old Ashley reenacting a scene from a soap opera with what they said was amazing talent. Mama Monroe enrolled her in acting class, hired a writer to create a television series around her and devoted herself to making Ashley a star.
Which meant Laurel was often forgotten in her twin’s shadow.
Unless she was needed to stand in her place.
CHAPTER ONE
“DON’T ENCOURAGE THE MONROES.”
Standing in the kitchenette of the Lodgepole Inn, Laurel Monroe stopped steeping her tea bag, stopped mentally mending the tears in the fabric of her life and paused, trying to place that voice.
Masculine.
Three men were living or staying at the inn.
Authoritative.
Two were natural-born leaders.
Presumptuous.
Given her father wasn’t in town, that narrowed it down to one.
Mitch Kincaid, mayor of Second Chance, Idaho, and the man who ran the Lodgepole Inn. A month ago she’d thought Mitch had kind eyes. Three weeks ago he’d held her head when she’d been too weak to keep it out of the toilet. And then
last week he’d cast shade on her family, the wealthy Monroes, not once but three times!
“Dad.” A much younger, feminine voice reached Laurel.
“Gabby.” Masculine. Authoritative. Presumptuous. That was Mitch, all right, talking to his preteen daughter. “We’re not going to make friends with the Monroes. They need to leave town before it’s too late.”
Too bad for Mitch that the Monroes owned Second Chance. It was their town to ruin. Not that that was their plan. Not that they had a plan. Not that Laurel had a plan for herself, either. Not yet anyway. She’d make one after her doctor’s appointment two days from now.
But the town...
Laurel still found the ownership part hard to believe. Years ago her grandfather had bought Second Chance—every ramshackle cabin, every building housing an underperforming business, every plot of land—which might have been a smart investment if Grandpa Harlan hadn’t gone on to charge residents and those who ran businesses leases of one dollar a year.
Her beloved grandfather had left his hometown in better economic condition than he’d left his grandchildren. According to his will, the vast Monroe fortune was designated for Grandpa Harlan’s four sons, but only if they fired Harlan’s grandchildren, who all worked for the Monroe Holding Corporation, and evicted them from Monroe-owned residences.
Job? Gone. Rent-free condo? Gone. Trust fund? Never had one. And now she was pregnant? Don’t make friends with the Monroes?
What did Mitch have against the Monroes?
The Monroes were the reason struggling businesses like the Lodgepole Inn weren’t closed! The Monroes were the reason people like Mitch could make a living in the mountains!
“All I’m saying is I don’t want you hanging out with the Monroes, especially Laurel.” Mitch opened the door behind the check-in desk and saw Laurel.
Mouth dry, Laurel stopped dipping her tea bag.
They stared at each other in silence.
Mitch Kincaid carried himself like he should be wearing a suit and tie and standing in the corner office of a high-rise. Solidly built, tall and proud. Thick, dark hair cut short. Intelligent brown eyes that could easily read any situation.
But he wasn’t wearing a suit or surveying the world from a corner office. Mitch wore a navy cotton sweater over faded blue jeans and stood in an inn built entirely from logs. It was just that he wore the casual attire the same way he spoke. With authority.
Not that Laurel or her cousins acknowledged his authority as mayor. And maybe that was part of Mitch’s problem. He had no control over what happened in town next and that seemed to be making him cranky.
Case in point, he made a grumpy noise to acknowledge Laurel.
“Bad morning, Counselor?” Laurel returned her attention to her tea, stung that she was the villain in this scenario.
And Mitch? He could’ve acknowledged her testy greeting with a muttered apology. Or a cocky eyebrow quirk. Instead, he went for a repeat of the grumpy noise.
Laurel had a grumpy noise, too. But before she could use it, the aroma of bacon drifted from the plate Mitch carried, turning Laurel’s stomach—once, twice, a third time.
Baby doesn’t like bacon.
Which was a shame, because Laurel loved bacon. Maple bacon. Smoked bacon. Crispy bacon with burnt edges.
Laurel disposed of the tea bag and willed her stomach to stop doing barrel rolls. “Are you going to eat that? As in immediately?”
“Is that Laurel?” Gabby poked her young face around Mitch’s wide chest, lisping slightly from her new retainer. “Hi!” Gabby’s smile was bright. Her intelligent dark eyes and quick wit seemed to be a gift from her father. Presumably, her long, straight strawberry blond hair was a gift from her mother, who wasn’t around and apparently never had been. “Ignore him, Laurel.” Gabby poked her father in the ribs. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
“So you keep telling me.” Laurel tried to discount the way nausea crept up her throat. “Are you going to eat all that bacon?”
“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Mitch was no longer looking at Laurel or he might have noticed her green pallor. “Did you want some? I made plenty.”
“No.” Laurel took a step back and breathed shallowly.
Baby definitely doesn’t like bacon.
Despite Laurel’s best efforts, the aroma of greasy bacon filled her nostrils. Her stomach took a nosedive. “Could you...eat a little quicker?” She waved her hand in the air, trying to encourage Mitch to eat up.
Mitch gently pushed Gabby back and closed the door in her face, eliciting a muffled, “Da-ad.”
“Ignore me and my bark, darling daughter.” Mitch went to the check-in desk and deposited his plate there, sparing Laurel a half grin. “How are you this morning?”
If you smile at me like that any longer, I might forget you consider me and my family the plague of Second Chance.
People rarely considered Laurel trouble, if they considered her at all. She averted her gaze. “If you’re asking, did I upchuck in my room last night? The answer is no. If you’re asking if I might lose it now, well... Baby is undecided.”
“Ah.” Mitch bit into a piece of bacon and chewed slowly. He slid Laurel a look that said many things.
Thank heavens this Monroe won’t try to snatch my bacon.
Thank heavens this Monroe didn’t get sick in the bathroom I have to clean later.
Thank heavens this Monroe isn’t bringing up the conversation she just overheard.
Laurel wasn’t about to let Mitch get by on that last one. “Is there something you want to get off your chest?”
Your very tall, broad chest.
Baby was undercutting Laurel’s perspective when it came to men.
Really, Baby was only undercutting Laurel’s perspective when it came to this man. There was a handsome cowboy sitting in the common room recuperating from a nasty broken leg. Laurel’s imagination didn’t stray across appropriate lines when it came to Zeke. Nope. It was just Mitch who got under her skin.
“Off my chest?” Mitch took another bite of bacon. “Not a blessed thing.” When it came to repartee, Mitch was a worthy adversary. Not surprising, given he’d been a defense attorney before he decided innkeeping was his calling.
“Dad, be nice,” Gabby shouted through the closed door.
“I am.” Mitch grinned like the evil overlord he probably thought he was. He turned back to Laurel, black hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Are you going somewhere?”
“No.” Laurel took a sip of her tea, breathing in the clean scent that masked the bacon. “Didn’t you tell me the roads wouldn’t be open until tomorrow?”
Second Chance was one of the snowiest places in America and was often isolated during winter. Outside, some drifts had to be at least eight feet tall.
“I don’t expect the snowplows to make it over the pass until tomorrow. But...” Mitch gestured to her attire with a burnt piece of bacon. “You’re dressed to go out on the town.”
Silently cursing bacon, Laurel glanced down at her black geometric V-neck tunic and silver leggings. One hid her growing topside and one was forgiving of her expanding waistline. And her black leather booties... What did he expect her to wear? Clunky snow boots?
“Counselor—” she’d taken to calling Mitch that when she was annoyed because he’d taken to calling her Miss Laurel, like she was high society and he was her chauffeur “—you may have noticed I like clothes.” Up until a month ago, clothes had been the way Laurel made a living—costuming actors for movies and styling her identical twin sister for the red carpet. “Dressing well isn’t a crime.”
It sometimes seemed it was around Mitch, whose plucky preteen daughter regularly wore ill-fitting, boy-cut blue jeans and T-shirts with iron-on transfers. Laurel would enjoy seeing the delicately blossoming beauty in a floral-print skirt and pastel blouse. No
t exactly appropriate attire for the mountains in winter.
“I love the sound of kindly people exchanging kindly greetings in the morning.” That was Zeke, recuperating cowboy and slinger of zingers.
“Good morning, Zeke.” To avoid the lingering smell of bacon, Laurel carried her tea upstairs. “Clothes aren’t evil. I’m not admitting defeat this round, Counselor.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less, Miss Laurel.”
If Laurel hadn’t been queasy, and bothered by her attraction to Mitch, she might have smiled.
The inn’s stairs creaked as she climbed. The hallway upstairs listed to one side and protested every step she took. The outer wall was made of thick, stacked logs with gray chinking in between. The inner wall was flat-sanded wood, stained the color of redwood. It was a far cry from the Hollywood mansion of her youth.
Sorry, Baby. Mama won’t be feeding you with a silver spoon.
Reality Check Number One. Laurel’s share of Second Chance wasn’t worth enough to buy silver spoons.
Take the Lodgepole Inn. It wasn’t a five-star hotel. If it had a website, which it did not, it would have touted itself as “rustic”—code for outdated.
She opened a warped door that stuck and entered her room. It had faded brown carpet, a bed covered with an artfully crafted sunflower quilt, a woefully small closet and an equally small bathroom appointed with pink fixtures. From what she’d seen, the rest of Second Chance was in the same—or worse—condition.
She sat on the edge of her bed and sipped her tea, staring at the pink rhinestone-studded evening gown she’d made for her famous twin’s latest opening night.
Ashley! Ashley! Look over here!
The flash of camera bulbs had blinded. The pop of those same bulbs had made ears ring. The cries of the photographers had been deafening.
Reality Check Number Two. Ashley had never worn that pink dress.
Laurel had stepped into her twin’s shoes, literally, and masqueraded as Ashley Monroe, up-and-coming starlet.
Laurel set her mug on the scarred bedside table and lay back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Her days being a double for her identical twin in Hollywood were coming to an end. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to fit into her sister’s clothes.
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