Mission: Cavanaugh Baby. Marie Ferrarella. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Marie Ferrarella
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Cavanaugh Justice
Жанр произведения: Короткие любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781472015822
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      From beloved author Marie Ferrarella comes another Cavanaugh Justice book, and this time a baby’s in jeopardy…

      The only things Ashley St. James has ever allowed herself to love are her dogs. A child of the foster-care system, she never even knew her own birthday. When a dog in distress leads her to a brutally butchered woman whose baby was stolen, Ashley has a purpose—so she teams up with cop Shane Cavanaugh.

      Losing his fiancée only ripened Shane’s thirst for justice. But the closer he gets to Ashley, the more he wants to erase the tears she hasn’t managed to dry. If they can find the missing baby and nab a psychotic killer first.

      “Everyone deserves to be loved.”

      Shane looked at Ashley. He got the definite impression that she wasn’t talking just about the dog anymore. Did she identify with homeless, unloved creatures? He found himself more than a little curious about this pushy, headstrong officer.

      Looking at her, he wouldn’t have thought she was unloved at all. Quite the opposite. But then, he’d come to recognize that self-image had little to do with what a person saw reflected in their mirror in the morning.

      “After you lost your parents, did any of your relatives step up?” He saw a dark look enter Ashley’s eyes, a look that warned him to back off now if he knew what was good for him. But he was already in this.

      Her voice was a little strained when she finally did answer his question.

      Strained and distant.

      “They couldn’t determine who my parents were. The interior of the car had burned to a crisp, as had the two people in it. No identification of any kind was ever found.”

      Cavanaugh Justice: Where the law and passion collide....

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome back to the Cavanaughs. I am always being asked where I get my ideas from. My answer is always the same. Everywhere. The idea for this story initially came from a morning talk show. It featured a story about perfectly sane, ordinary women who had ordinary careers—and went through their days pushing strollers, changing diapers, carrying bundles of joy in their arms. The only difference between them and other mothers who were doing the same thing was that their babies were created in a factory. They felt real, smelled real, some had a “heartbeat,” others turned if you touched them a certain way. But, like Peter Pan, these babies never grow up. You take that extreme behavior, push it a little further, you could very well have a situation like the one I write about here.

      I’m very lucky in my profession. The stories are everywhere. I hope you like this one and that you enjoy your stay with the Cavanaughs enough to come back again next time. I promise you won’t be bored.

      As ever, I thank you for reading and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

      All my best,

      Marie

      Mission: Cavanaugh Baby

      Marie Ferrarella

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MARIE FERRARELLA

      This USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author has written more than two hundred books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com.

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      To

      Jessi & Nik,

      the two best things

      I ever produced.

      Contents

       Prologue

       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

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Excerpt

      Prologue

      She didn’t want to wake her babies.

      Stepping into the bedroom she had turned into a beautiful, fairy-tale-like nursery, the short, maternal-looking woman eased the door closed behind her, careful not to make a sound.

      Her deep-set brown eyes swept over all three of the delicate, snow-white, Angelina Six Leg cribs in the room, each placed against a different wall so that she had room to move around, room to scoop up whichever infant needed her at the moment. The cribs, with their hand-carved headboards were identical and very expensive, but nothing was too good for her babies.

      Tiptoeing over to the first crib, she looked down at Adele and smiled. Her eyes were closed. She was still asleep.

      Unable