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       Bride Under the Mistletoe

      The Magic of a Family Christmas

      Susan Meier

      His Mistletoe Bride

      Cara Colter

      Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

      Jessica Hart

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

       About the Author

       Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Epilogue

       Under the Boss’s Mistletoe

       About the Author

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Epilogue

       Copyright

The Magic of a Family Christmas

      SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realized everything that had come before was only research! As one of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience watching romance blossom in unexpected ways. She lives in Western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com.

      For the people at Gardners Candies in

      Tyrone, Pennsylvania!

      Thanks for a great tour and your help with this story!

      Merry Christmas!

      For my mom, who was the inspiration

      For Harry’s Christmas cookie painting!

       PROLOGUE

      “I’VE hired a nurse.”

      “Really?” Wendy Winston tried to sound surprised by her next-door neighbor’s announcement, but she wasn’t. Betsy’s cancer hadn’t responded to treatment. Wendy had been able to help Betsy struggle through the aftereffects of the initial round of chemotherapy, but her friend needed real care now. Care beyond what a neighbor could provide.

      “I appreciate all the help you’ve given me over the past few weeks, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad for the break.”

      Fluffing the fat pillow before she slid it under Betsy’s head, Wendy laughed. “You think I’ll be glad to go back to an empty house?”

      Betsy frowned. “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t move back to your family in Ohio after your husband died.”

      She shrugged. “Memories mostly. It seemed too abrupt just to leave when he died. I needed time to process everything.”

      “It’s been two years.”

      “I also have a job.”

      “No one stays away from family for a job.”

      She grinned at Betsy. “Would you believe I can’t sell that monstrosity I call a house?”

      Betsy laughed.

      “One of these days I’ll have the kitchen and bathrooms remodeled and then I can put it on the market and go.”

      Even Wendy heard the wistfulness in her own voice so she wasn’t surprised when Betsy said, “It makes you sad to think of leaving.”

      “Four years ago I settled here with the assumption that Barrington would be my home. I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong. No matter how alone I am.”

      “Why didn’t you and Greg ever have kids?”

      “He wanted to be done with his residency before we even tried.”

      “Makes sense.”

      Wendy smiled sadly.

      “But it didn’t make you happy.”

      “If we’d done what I wanted and had a child I wouldn’t be alone right now.” She sighed. “Not that I only wanted a child to keep from being lonely. It was more than that. My whole life I longed to be a mom. But what Greg wanted always came first. Some days I struggle with that.”

      “That’s one of those tough choices that happens in a marriage. Nobody’s fault.”

      Wendy turned away. “Yeah.” She wouldn’t burden Betsy with stories of how her late husband had been so focused and determined that he frequently

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