LYRICAL PRESS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Copyright

      Lyrical Press books are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by Maggie Wells

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

      Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

      First Electronic Edition: August 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0351-5

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0351-3

      First Print Edition: August 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0354-6

      ISBN-10: 1-5161-0354-8

      Printed in the United States of America

      Dedication

      For my parents, who didn’t have to tough it out alone - they had a lot of gin on hand.

      Foreword

      I’ve wanted to write a stories about single dads ever since I married one. Not long after that, one of my brothers became the custodial parent to his three daughters. Between the two of them, I discovered that society seems to acknowledge and sympathize with the struggles many single mothers face, but you don’t often hear about the men who are on the job all on their own. Single parenthood presented a number of unique issues for my husband. For example, many of my step-daughter’s friends had parents weren’t comfortable letting their daughters stay the night in a house with a single man. Understandable, given the horror stories we hear on the news, but still heartbreaking for him and for her.

      I want to thank Kensington Publishing and Lyrical Press for allowing me the opportunity to write these books. Each and every one of them contains a little bit of my heart.

      Acknowledgments

      Enormous thanks to Martin Biro and Marci Clark for saying yes to this series. It’s been a joy working with you over the years! A powerful *fist bump* goes out to Sara Megibow. Your positivity, encouragement, and steely-eyed determination make me HUNGRY! I love working with you. Finally, to my friends and family. Those who have known me long enough to bust any Facebook game I try to participate in, the Super Cool women who shoved me off onto this iceberg we call a writing career, then jumped on board with me, and my always incredible critique partner extraordinaire, Julie Doner.

      Finally, I have to thank my husband, Bill. Not only does he provide fodder for funny tweets, Facebook antics, and fits of giggles, but in this case, my Fodder has truly provided the fodder for my writing, I thank God every day that my name got drawn out of that hat!

      Chapter 1

      Rosie Herrera turned into the parking lot at Trident Security and smiled at the long, lanky figure trying to make himself small in the face of the winter wind. James Harper stood outside the darkened office door, the amber security light adding a golden burnish to his auburn hair. She shook her head at the hatless figure hunched into a Patagonia parka. Temperatures had been brutal all week, but James was standing outside. Typical James.

      He’d left his vehicle in the Trident lot, taking a Ryde car to his appointment. Parking in the Streeterville neighborhood was either abysmal or expensive, so a cab or shared ride made sense. What was completely baffling was why one of the owners of the company couldn’t let himself into the secured building to wait for her to return with his vehicle and its precious cargo.

      Rosie shook her head in dismay. “He forgot the alarm code…again.”

      For some reason, she found his inability to keep up with quarterly changes to the alarm system codes charming. Trident was a consulting firm specializing in security issues. Alarm systems were bread and butter in their business. And yet, he was standing there, freezing his tuchus off outside of the building he partially owned because he couldn’t keep up with five measly digits.

      The SUV’s thermal seats and blasting heat made her feel smug and superior. Glancing back at the redheaded twins strapped into their booster seats, she slowed to a crawl as she cruised past the entrance.

      “Look, boys, there’s a stray daddy roaming around our parking lot,” she called over her shoulder. “Shall we take him home with us?”

      “Yeah!” Jamie and Jeffrey chorused, right on cue.

      She wheeled James’s car into the first non-handicapped parking spot in the small lot. Putting the SUV in park, she gathered her purse and unclipped her seatbelt. When she heard the shussh of nylon parkas shifting behind her, she shot a quelling glance