Who Is This Wounded Warrior?
A man with secrets, ex-soldier Seth Hansen comes to the small town of Harland, North Carolina, to heal. The last thing he wants is to get involved—with the community, or with lovely waitress Lisa Sawyer, who has big dreams of leaving Harland. When a massive storm hits, it will take a dramatic rescue, and Lisa’s unshakable belief, to wake a part of Seth he thought he’d lost forever. Suddenly one reluctant hero finds himself captivated by Christmas spirit. If only he can help Lisa discover the place she really wants to be....
“Need some help up there?”
Hearing an unfamiliar drawl, Lisa Sawyer steadied herself where she was perched trying to string Christmas lights. The staff of Ruthy’s Place was in full-on holiday decorating mode. She wouldn’t mind a little help.
Turning, she found a man standing behind her who reminded her of a Greek statue. Maybe it was the granite-hard contours of his face. Maybe it was his razor-sharp crew cut, or the almost clear blue of his eyes. Or maybe it was the way his stained gray T-shirt rippled over muscles that ran from his shoulders to the tops of his paint-spattered work boots.
Wow, was the first coherent word that popped into her head. Since she couldn’t say that, she smiled. “Thank you—”
“Seth,” he said quietly. “Seth Hansen.”
“Oh, Ruthy’s nephew. She said you were coming to help out with some maintenance and stuff.” Reaching over, she held out her hand. “Lisa Sawyer.”
Considering how strong his grip must be, she was amazed by how gentle his touch was.
MIA ROSS
loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at www.miaross.com.
A Gift of Family
Mia Ross
MILLS & BOON
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Be strong and courageous.
—Joshua 1:9
For Ashley and Christopher—
the two best gifts I’ve ever gotten.
Contents
Chapter One
“Need some help up there?”
Hearing an unfamiliar drawl, Lisa Sawyer steadied herself against the bay window where she was perched trying to string Christmas lights. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the staff of Ruthy’s Place was in full-on holiday decorating mode. With the long cord in one hand and a dozen thumbtacks in the other, she wouldn’t mind a little help.
Turning, she found a man standing behind her who reminded her of a Greek statue she’d seen on the Travel Channel. Maybe it was the granite-hard contours of his face. Maybe it was his razor-sharp crew cut, or the almost clear blue of his eyes. Or maybe it was the way his stained gray T-shirt rippled over muscles that ran from his shoulders to the tops of his paint-spattered work boots. Instinct told her he hadn’t bought his ratty jeans that way. The way they bagged on his tall, lean frame made them look as if they belonged to someone else.
Wow was the first coherent word that popped into her head. Since she couldn’t say that without looking foolish, she smiled. “Thank you—”
“Seth,” he said quietly. “Seth Hansen.”
“Oh, Ruthy’s nephew.” Lisa filled in the blank with another, less impersonal, smile. “She said you were coming to help out with some maintenance in the diner and the apartments upstairs.”
“That’s me.”
Reaching over, she held out her hand. “Lisa Sawyer.”
Considering how strong his grip must be, she was amazed by how gentle his touch was. Careful, almost, as if he was afraid to hurt her. As the scent of fresh gingerbread wafted in from the kitchen, the ceiling speakers switched over to the opening chords of “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” While she held up one end of the lights and Seth pegged in a thumbtack every six inches or so, Lisa sang along with the lyrics.
“You sing it better than she does,” Lisa’s helper complimented her as he pinned the last length of cord into place on the other side of the diner’s glass-front door.
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The hard planes of his face creased into something