The Man Under The Mistletoe

The Man Under The Mistletoe
Muriel Jensen

'Tis the season of hope…Rosie DeMarco is finally climbing out of the grief that locked her heart. Her brother, father and unborn baby died in the span of a week. And no one–not even her husband, Matt–could reach Rosie as she withdrew into darkness. But as her sister's Christmas wedding draws near, she's forced to face Matt again…eighteen months after he walked away.Matt knows he had to leave. The secret he carried would devastate Rosie. But now someone is out to kill his wife, and Matt wonders if it's time to reveal all. He can't bring back the people she loves, but maybe he can give her the gift of hope…and love's ability to heal.

“It’s time to look at things from a new perspective.”

“A lot of time has passed,” Rosie agreed coolly, “but my perspective remains the same. I lost my brother, my father and our baby in the space of a week, and you…” The anger turned to pain for an instant, but she tossed her head, seeming to shake it off. Being angry at him was apparently more comfortable than hurting. “You left me.”

“You drove me away,” Matt corrected.

“I had lost…three of the most important people in my life!” Her voice rose. “Did you expect me to be the same perky little debutante you married?”

“Of course not. I just wanted you to remember that I was there to offer support, comfort, a way back. But you didn’t want to come back.”

Dear Reader,

I’m a great lover of Christmas and all the warm and cozy rituals that surround it. This story incorporates them, but against a backdrop of old grief, the threat of danger and a husband and wife who loved each other more than anything until tragedy drove a wedge between them.

Even against those odds, love conquers all. And when this happens at Christmas, emotions are heightened and the joy is even greater.

Read all about it!

Happy holidays!

Muriel Jensen

The Man under the Mistletoe

Muriel Jensen

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

In loving memory of my brother, Matthew Charbonneau,

called home much too soon. I will always remember kitchen

chairs lined up in a row as we played Rocky Jones,

Space Ranger; Necco Wafers candies used for

Holy Communion when we played Mass; and, when I was

eight and he was twelve, flying down the Dean Street hill

on the handlebars of his bike in complete confidence that

he would get us safely to the bottom. Love you, Mattie.

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

PROLOGUE

ROSIE DEMARCO SAT opposite Jackie Whitcomb at a table for four in the Breakfast Barn’s meeting room. The restaurant was the heartbeat of Maple Hill in western Massachusetts. In this first week of December, a waitress and two busboys were hanging paper snowflakes from the light fixtures.

Also at their table were Molly Bowers, a florist, and Adam Bello, who owned Bello Automobile Agency.

“So that’s about it, Jackie.” Rosie pushed away her half-empty plate and consulted her notes one more time. “Maple Hill’s Industrial Growth Committee is officially reactivated, and all because Molly and Adam and I were at the same table at the fall festival dinner and got to talking about the health of business in this town. Molly has served on the committee before, but this is Adam’s first time.”

Adam smiled enthusiastically. He was young and personable. “We could use a little clean industry here to bring in jobs and give us more to depend on than tourism.”

Jackie, Maple Hill’s mayor and a descendant of one of the town’s founding families, was a lively redhead with a genuine devotion to the community. She spread her hands, her smile taking in everyone at the table. “That’s great news. And you think Tolliver Textiles is willing to try us again?”