LITMIR.BIZ

      Leslie J. Wainger

      Executive Senior Editor

      Runaway Bridesmaid

      Karen Templeton

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      KAREN TEMPLETON’s

      background in the theater and the arts, and a lifelong affinity for love stories, led inevitably to her writing romances. Growing up, she studied art, ballet and drama, and wanted to someday strut her stuff on Broadway. She was accepted into North Carolina School of the Arts as a drama major but switched to costume design.

      Twelve years in New York City provided a variety of work experiences, including assisting costume designers at a large costume house, employment in the bridal department buyer’s offices of several department stores, grunt work for a sportswear designer and answering phones for a sports uniform manufacturer. New York also provided her with her husband, Jack, and the first two of her five sons.

      The family then moved to New Mexico, where Karen established an in-home mail-order crafts business that she gave up the instant the family bought their first computer. Now writing romances full-time, she says she’s finally found an outlet for all that theatrical training—she gets to write, produce, design, cast and play all the parts!

      To Gail Chasan, editor and friend, who refuses to believe me when I say “I can’t.”

      Acknowledgment

      To Wendy Wade Morton, DVM, whose veterinary advice—as well as her insight into daily life in the Auburn/Opelika area of Alabama—has hopefully prevented me from looking like a total fool.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      “Hey—what’s with the horse out in the waiting room?”

      At the familiar sarcastic drawl, Sarah Whitehouse glanced up from the examining table where she held an ill-tempered ginger tomcat in a hammerlock, treating it for ear mites. She allowed a beleaguered grin for her younger sister, Jennifer, who worked at the travel agency just up the street. “Ah. That would be Bojangles.”

      “Bo-what?”

      Sarah grimaced as she wrestled with the pissed-off cat. “Bojangles. Great Dane. Nine months old.”

      “Nine months?” Jennifer rolled her eyes, then shifted in the doorway, crossing her arms so that her engagement ring, modest though it was, twinkled brilliantly. “Hey, listen—”

      “Anybody else out there?”

      “Uh…oh, I don’t know….” Sarah caught the whiff of petulance in her sister’s voice. “Two more cats, maybe? At least, two more cat carriers. I can’t vouch for what’s in ’em. A collie, a Dobie…and some small fuzzy thing I’ll have to guess is a canine with indiscreet parents. Sarah—”

      “Damn. They must all be drop-ins. The Dane was all I had scheduled, which is why I let Jolene go off to lunch.” Sarah ignored the cat’s menacing growl as she swabbed his ear. “Anyone seem panicked? Bleeding? In labor?”

      Her sister considered for a moment, then shook her head, a half-can’s worth of Aqua Net prohibiting any individual movement of her shoulder-length waves. “Nope. Just the usual panting and get-me-outta-here whimpering and butt-smelling routines. Though one owner looks like she misplaced her Prozac—”

      “Could you tell everyone to hold on, I’ll get to ’em soon as I can?”

      With a telling sigh, Jennifer stuck her honey-gold head out the door and delivered Sarah’s message, then waltzed on into the examining room and plopped her handbag on a chair in the corner. By now she was pouting.

      Sarah got the message.

      “I’m sorry, honey…was there something you wanted to tell me?”

      Jennifer hesitated, then gave a short, dismissive wave of her hand. “It’ll wait. You’re busy.”

      “You sure?”

      “No point in talking to you if you’re not listening.”

      “I promise to give you my undivided attention just as soon as I’m finished….” The thing twisted out of Sarah’s grasp and spit at her.

      Her sister took a circumspect step backward, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “And what is our problem?”

      Sarah wrapped the cat’s leash around her palm, reined him back in. “I think we know that ear mites aren’t the only things being removed today.”

      “Oooh,” Jennifer said with a comprehending nod in the creature’s direction. The cat actually sneered at her as Sarah elbowed the thing into her chest and went after the other ear. “Heck, you ask me, it couldn’t happen to a better guy. Except maybe Bruce Miller. Did you know Abby’s pregnant again?”

      Sarah stifled her laugh. “Stop it, will you? I’m having enough trouble doing this.”

      “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah caught Jennifer’s

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