“I really had better run.”

      Tom had followed Suzanne to the door and now reached over her head to hold it open, which meant he stood so close to her she could feel the heat of his body. She knew if she lifted her gaze just a little, she’d see his mouth—which she’d never looked closely at before—and even the color of his eyes. Instead, she backed away without once letting her gaze rise higher than the strong column of his throat, stumbled over the doorjamb because she wasn’t watching where her feet were going, said, “Good night” and fled, her cheeks blazing.

      Grateful for the darkness once she’d left his front porch, she pressed her hands to her cheeks. What on earth was wrong with her?

      But the funny thing was, Suzanne was glad she’d gone. She thought he really might have been hurt if she hadn’t. He’d seemed genuinely interested in hearing about Jack and Sophia.

      And…she now knew something about him. Only a little, but it was a start.

      Of what, she didn’t let herself wonder.

      Dear Reader,

      Big sister Suzanne is at the heart of all three books in the LOST…BUT NOT FORGOTTEN trilogy. She’s closest to my heart (although I did love Gary in Lost Cause!), perhaps because I, too, was the child who always tried to shoulder responsibility for the happiness of everyone else in the family. I was the peacekeeper when anger fired, Miss Perky when I sensed tension brewing. To this day I have a hard time delegating any kind of responsibility, driven still on some level to make everything right all by myself.

      Suzanne has a better excuse than I do. Imagine being six years old and having your parents die. All you hear is your mom’s voice saying, “You’re the big sister. Take care of your little sister and brother.” Only, you can’t. They’re taken away and adopted out, seemingly forever beyond your reach. How could you help living with a powerful sense of failure?

      But because Suzanne is the responsible one, as an adult she takes action, tracking down her sister and brother. In Kids by Christmas, she realizes she’s fulfilled her lifelong goal and is disconcerted to find she still feels empty. It’s time she reached for happiness for herself, not for everyone else. Suzanne being Suzanne, though, she can only keep giving. But one of the miracles of Christmas is that usually when you give a gift, you get one in return. Suzanne’s just might be a real family.

      Merry Christmas!

      Janice Kay Johnson

      Kids by Christmas

      Janice Kay Johnson

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      The author of more than forty books, Janice Kay Johnson has written for adults, children and young adults. When not writing or researching her books, Janice quilts, grows antique roses, spends time with her two daughters, takes care of her cats and dogs (too many to itemize!) and volunteers at a no-kill cat shelter. Janice has been a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award four times.

      CONTENTS

      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 ONE

      SHE HAD NO REASON to be depressed. None whatsoever. Especially after having spent a nice Thanksgiving yesterday with her sister, Carrie, and Carrie’s family.

      Suzanne Chauvin pulled into her driveway, the trunk of her car full of groceries, but didn’t move even though she’d turned off the engine.

      It’s the gloom, she told herself. This was her least favorite time of year, with the days so short she left the house every morning in darkness and didn’t go home until after dark, too. And these past few weeks had been particularly rainy, even by Pacific Northwest standards. The drizzle and gray seemed unending.

      But Christmas was coming, Suzanne reminded herself, and it would be even better than Thanksgiving. This year would be special, even if she hadn’t heard from the adoption agency. Special because it would be the first Christmas spent with her sister and brother since she was six years old and their family had been torn apart after their parents were killed in a car accident.

      So there. She had every reason in the world to be cheerful. She’d found her younger brother and sister after years of searching, had reunited with them and liked them both, had rejoiced when in turn they’d both fallen in love. Carrie was married now, to the private investigator Suzanne had hired to find her, and Gary was planning a wedding right after Christmas.

      Suzanne’s business was going well, too. She’d opened a yarn shop in downtown Edmonds this past year, and despite her trepidation had been overwhelmed by support from area knitters. With Christmas shoppers in force today, her receipts had been the second highest since she’d opened.

      Maybe she was just tired. She was working six days a week, plus doing the books on her one day off.

      Once the agency calls me and I have a little girl or boy of my own, I’ll cut back, she promised herself.

      If they ever called.

      Chilly now after sitting so long in the car in her own driveway, Suzanne finally sighed, grabbed her purse and keys and got out.

      Forget adopting a child so that she finally had a family of her own. Her mood could have been improved by something a whole lot more modest—having an automatic garage door opener. And a garage that actually had room for her car to be parked inside it.

      Which only required the time to hold a garage sale, and the money to buy and have someone install the opener.

      For once, she didn’t give a thought to her next-door neighbor, even though she usually sneaked a glance at his house to prepare herself in case he was out front. Not that Tom Stefanec was stalking her or anything like that. He just made her uncomfortable. And she preferred to avoid him when possible. But he’d be eating dinner by now, not hanging around outside on a damp night.

      The little lever beside her seat no longer unlatched her trunk. Heck, she was lucky the car was still running. She went around back to manually unlock the trunk, hitched her purse over her shoulder and reached for the first bag.

      “Need a hand with those groceries?”

      At the voice from behind, she jerked her head up and rammed it against the trunk lid. Tears sprang into her eyes. Swearing, she let the grocery bag go and rubbed the bump she could already feel rising.

      “I’m sorry,” Tom said, stepping closer. His voice had roughened in contrition. “I startled you. Are you okay? I can get you some ice….”

      Suzanne blinked away the tears. “No, I’ll be okay. I just didn’t see you.”

      A big, powerfully built man, he had a rough-hewn face that wasn’t ugly but was far from handsome. The combination of porch light and streetlight cast shadows on his face, accenting cheekbones and a nose that looked like it had been broken at some point.