“Whew,” Sarah said, drawing out the chair opposite Heath’s.
Her pale complexion was flushed and the afternoon’s heat had dampened the tendrils hugging the nape of her neck where she’d pulled back her hair. “That was tough,” she added.
“I’d have thought you’d be an old pro at a simple lunch,” Heath said.
“Oh, sure,” she replied. “I just didn’t get much rest last night. But now that my right-hand person has finally gotten here, I’ve got time for a breather.”
After a few moments of awkward silence, he leaned forward, toying with his blue napkin. “Not that it’s my business, but why’d you get a lousy night’s rest?”
“Why do you care?”
“No reason,” he said. “Sorry I asked. I was just trying to make small talk, but maybe my question came out as invasive.”
“No,” she said, staring at Heath straight on, and then sighing. “Truthfully, I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night for a fairly simple reason—you.”
Dear Reader,
On the topic of twins, seeing as how I have a set of my own, I’m a bit biased. I love twin stories, which is what makes Heath and Sarah’s tale extra dear to my heart.
I suppose my fascination with twins started with Disney’s The Parent Trap (both the Hayley Mills and Lindsay Lohan versions). The whole concept of being able to exchange lives with someone is very intriguing! Alas, unless Mom and Dad are hiding a deep family secret, I’ll never get to discover how much fun this could actually be. And seeing as I was blessed with boy/girl twins, there won’t be any switcheroos going on at our house. Meaning my only shot for twin mayhem is in the pages of my books.
I so hope you’ll enjoy taking Heath and Sarah’s wild ride with me as they both try to convincingly fill their twins’ shoes—usually failing miserably in every area but love!
Best,
Laura Marie ;-)
The Right Twin
Laura Marie Altom
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.
When not immersed in her next story, Laura enjoys an almost glamorous lifestyle of zipping around in a convertible while trying to keep her dog from leaping out, and constantly striving to reach the bottom of the laundry basket—a feat she may never accomplish! For real fun, Laura is content to read, do needlepoint and cuddle with her kids and handsome hubby.
Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail: [email protected]. Love lounging on the beach while winning fun stuff? Check out www.lauramariealtom.com.
Books by Laura Marie Altom
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1028—BABIES AND BADGES
1043—SANTA BABY
1074—TEMPORARY DAD
1086—SAVING JOE*
1099—MARRYING THE MARSHAL*
1110—HIS BABY BONUS*
1123—TO CATCH A HUSBAND*
1132—DADDY DAYCARE
1147—HER MILITARY MAN
For my precious Hannah—you asked for it, you got it!
P.S. Buddy Love, you get the next one!
Contents
Prologue
Thursday
“Pop quiz. What’s the difference between Italian meringue and standard?” When Sadie Connelly’s sister Sarah’s only reply was a deer-in-the-headlights stare, her stomach fell more sharply than a jostled soufflé. “Sweetie,” she said with a moan, “this is elementary stuff. If we’re to have a chance at pulling this off, you’ve got to pay attention.”
“I am,” her twin said, fidgeting in her seat in the Blueberry Inn’s sumptuous dining room. A gleaming maple floor inlaid with cherry was softened in spots by colorful Persian rugs. Walls covered in a navy-and-white toile were accented by Sadie’s extensive collection of Blue Willow china and her nineteenth-century pastoral prints. Tall windows draped in navy velvet brought in the midspring morning sun and the heady scents of a freshly watered garden that was already riotously in bloom. In the distance, Blue Lake shimmered with the breeze.
All her life Sadie had dreamed of running such a fabulous inn. Maybe the desire had arisen from watching too much of that old nighttime TV soap Hotel, but years later, when their grandmother died and left Sadie the means to not just work in a country inn but actually own one, she’d jumped at the chance.
And jumped and jumped to restore the faded Queen Anne property to its former glory. Five long years later, sweat equity had turned the inn, an hour south of St. Louis, into the ultimate in refined elegance.
“All right then,” Sadie said, not sure her sister Sarah realized the gravity of this situation. “If