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A Man for Mom
A Man for Mom
A Man for Mom
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A Man for Mom

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Parenting a teenager was trouble enough, but when the teenager turned matchmaker, it added up to hormone overload. Chelsea Brennan was satisfied with her life as a single mom. Her days were spent in Hot Stuff, her shop of classy lingerie, and her nights...well, she liked sitcoms. Only the summer separated Chelsea's seventeen-year-old daughter from a college far from home. Three short months to set her mom up with Mr. Right. Enter Mark Harrison--via the back door at midnight. When he showed up on the doorstep with teen Colleen, Chelsea nearly blew a gasket. Of course this hunk was too old for her daughter, but was he the man for Mom?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherLinda Wisdom
Release dateSep 30, 2014
ISBN9781311982568
A Man for Mom
Author

Linda Wisdom

Linda Wisdom has published more than 70 novels with 13 million copies sold worldwide including traditional, paranormal, humor, action/adventure romance, and romantic suspense. Her bestselling books have been nominated for Romantic Times awards and the Romance Writers of America Rita Award. She lives with her husband in Murrieta, California.

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    Book preview

    A Man for Mom - Linda Wisdom

    A Man for Mom

    By

    Linda Wisdom

    A LINDA WISDOM CLASSIC ROMANCE FROM JOYRIDE BOOKS

    * * * * *

    PUBLISHED BY:

    Joyride Books

    A Man for Mom

    Copyright © 2014 by Linda Wisdom

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

    * * * * *

    A Man for Mom

    Chapter One

    Okay, start talking.

    Her glare the picture of righteous motherly wrath, Chelsea Brennan regarded her errant daughter, Colleen, who stood on the front doorstep at 1:22 a.m. on Friday the thirteenth.

    The girl's initial bravado was rapidly disappearing. Even in skimpy silk pajamas that barely covered her feminine curves, her mother looked intimidating as hell.

    To the man who stood behind Colleen, however, the lady looked just plain sexy.

    Colleen winced, ineffectually crossing her arms to conceal the black sequined dress that barely covered her to mid-thigh. I have a feeling you won't like it.

    Chelsea's gaze flickered from her daughter to her companion. Oh, Lord. The man was definitely too old for a seventeen year old girl. Besides, Colleen had supposedly gone to the movies with her friend, Elaine.

    Colleen sighed, envisioning being grounded until she was thirty.

    I suggest you begin by explaining what you're doing with this...gentleman, Chelsea prompted her.

    It's not what you think, the man started to explain.

    Chelsea's hazel eyes snapped to the left. Exactly who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter? An unsettling thought occurred to her. Are you a police officer? Her eyes flicked suspiciously over his attire. Did undercover policemen wear jeans that tight and sexy leather jackets and have rugged good looks that spelled male in capital letters?

    No, I'm not a cop. The name's Mark Harrison. In turn he looked her over with a thoroughness most inappropriate for the mother of the teenage girl he was so tastelessly escorting.

    She spoke crisply to deflect his brazen gaze. All right, Mr. Harrison, if it's not what I think, as you so quaintly put it, what exactly is it you're doing with my daughter? And to think she'd complained about Colleen's last date because the boy had worn an earring!

    I brought Colleen home to keep her out of trouble, he explained, looking all too self-assured for Chelsea's peace of mind.

    Oh? she said frostily, disbelief dripping from the single frozen syllable.

    He rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands jammed in his pockets, his eyes blazing meaningfully into hers. So you can't believe I was just being an all-around nice guy?

    Not at all.

    Mom, I'm freezing, Colleen complained as she pushed past her mother and entered the house.

    Chelsea opened her mouth to protest as the cradle-robber who called himself Mark Harrison boldly followed Colleen inside and closed the door. Too late. He was already in her living room. Well, she supposed she ought to hear his side of the story, too. She tightened the sash of her robe and marched after the twosome.

    Mark prowled around her living room, touching a vase here, running a finger over a framed photograph there. Looking altogether too much at home, he sprawled loosely on the couch.

    Chelsea pulled in a deep breath. All right, will somebody please explain what the hell is going on here?

    Colleen winced. Mom tends to get emotional about certain things, she explained to Mark as she sat in an easy chair, oblivious to the way her already short skirt rode up her slender thighs. Her mother noticed and was silently relieved that Mark didn't seem to pay the least attention to the exposed young flesh. Instead, he gazed up gravely in her direction.

    Well, you knew Elaine and I had plans for tonight, Colleen began.

    Yes, you told me you were going to the movies. Naturally, every teenage girl wears an eight hundred dollar dress to the mall multiplex.

    Mark's deep brown eyes widened. Eight hundred dollars for that little scrap of material? He pointed at the strapless creation Colleen wore. You're kidding, aren't you? I mean, no one pays eight hundred dollars for something like that, do they? I mean, she's only a kid. I wouldn't let my kid go out looking like that. Eight hundred bucks? he repeated in outraged awe.

    A kid? Colleen yelped, sitting forward.

    Mark ignored her outburst and glared at Chelsea as if she were somehow to blame for his shock.

    Chelsea spun on him. All right, Mark Harrison, we've ascertained that you're not a cop, but you still haven't explained what you are. I'd like to know who I'm going to have arrested call it an idiosyncrasy of mine, she said sweetly.

    I told you, I'm Mark Harrison. I'm also your daughter's savior. I protected her endangered virtue from a drunk hassling her at the club, he explained. For all the thanks I get, he added, grumbling.

    Chelsea gasped. Club? What club? What on earth happened?

    Colleen rolled her eyes in disgust. Mom, it was no big deal. Mark just makes it sound like one. The other guy didn't touch me. Well, okay, he touched me, but not the way he wanted to. Well, what I mean is, he was drunk, and I doubt he could have done all that much in his condition, no matter what he thought.

    Chelsea groaned, unsure whether to laugh hysterically or cry. Closing her eyes, she collapsed on the couch. This is a nightmare. All I have to do is wake up and everything will be fine, right?

    Mark found his gaze riveted on the distraught mother of the adventurous minor. And why not? Talk about the kind of woman any man wouldn't mind having around late at night. Her honey brown hair was tousled, as if she'd just climbed out of bed. Considering what she was wearing, that was more than likely. Bed the perfect place for a woman like her. Her cinnamon silk robe had slipped open just enough to reveal a slippery camisole and matching boxer shorts. While some men wouldn't consider glasses sexy, the tortoiseshell specs perched atop her honey colored waves somehow added to her angry, offbeat allure.

    Wait. If she'd been in bed reading, waiting up for her daughter, had she been alone? If so, where was Colleen's father who would be, dammit, Chelsea's husband and why wasn't he here ready to turn Mark into mincemeat?

    Mrs. Brennan... he began.

    Ms. Brennan, Colleen corrected smartly, then added, Chelsea. Chelsea glared at her.

    So, the lady was single, Mark reflected. The evening was looking up. The evening. He abruptly remembered why he was here. Let me make a long story short, Ms. Brennan.

    Please do. Her sarcasm was palpable.

    Colleen was down at Rick's Cafe with a friend. He held up his hand when Chelsea snapped forward, looking ready to kill anyone in her path, him first. Some guy'd had a bit too much to drink, and when Colleen refused to dance with him, he made a fuss. She was smart enough to leave, but he was stupid enough to follow her out to the parking lot. I saw what was going on and guessed there might be a bit of trouble. I went outside just in time to prevent the guy from losing his chance to father children as Colleen and Elaine defended themselves. Since he was still a lot larger than they were, I stepped in to even the odds.

    He paused, glancing briefly at Colleen. I followed Elaine's car to her house to make sure the guy wouldn't try to tail them, then brought Colleen on home. She said she didn't think you'd be in yet, so I wanted to make sure she’d be all right.

    Chelsea arched a disbelieving eyebrow. Sure. And pigs fly.

    He ignored the sarcastic remark. Look, I didn't have to do this, but she seemed like a nice kid, and I didn't want to see her get hurt.

    Chelsea stood. That's true, you didn't have to do anything. After all, chivalry died ages ago, and men like you don't drive young girls home unless you feel certain said girl's parents aren't around and you'll have the opportunity to receive a proper thank you.

    Mom! Colleen was shocked. Are you kidding? He's old!

    I don't have even one foot in the grave yet, he said wryly. And as for you, Ms. Brennan, you're too cynical for your own good.

    She stood her ground. He might be the best looking man she'd seen in a long while, but he had a healthy dose of arrogance to go with the attractive package. And she didn't like his telling her what was wrong with her. Maybe I have good reason to be.

    He got to his feet. Maybe you do. So don't trouble yourself with a thank you. Besides, even with the heavy makeup and he winced eight hundred dollar dress, Colleen is underage and could have gotten the club owner into a lot of trouble, even though she did drink just club soda. Why she was at Rick's is no business of mine. I'd say that was more her mother's department. But Rick is a friend of mine, and Colleen seemed like an okay kid, and I just saw no reason for the situation to get any worse.

    Chelsea's eyes remained icy cold. How commendable.

    Mark didn't flinch. He merely gazed suggestively at Chelsea's long, sexy legs peeking out from the folds of the robe. Look, Ms. Brennan, how you raise your daughter is no concern of mine. I only came in to explain.

    Stung, Chelsea straightened and dismissed him with a chilly, Thank you for bringing Colleen home, Mr. Harrison.

    He headed for the door. Remember what I said, Colleen. You stay out of places like that until you're of age, he said over his shoulder.

    What, and deprive heroes like you of the chance to rescue the sweet young things? Chelsea couldn't resist sniping as she followed him out.

    He turned and faced her squarely. I seldom explain myself to anyone, Ms. Brennan, but since you insist on being so wrongheaded about my supposed decadence, allow me to enlighten you. I don't hit on jailbait, and I don't hang out in singles bars. But since Rick is a friend of mine and is rarely able to leave during operating hours, it's usually the only way I get to see him. If I were you, I'd be damn grateful that creep hadn't gotten his hands on Colleen. Otherwise, it would have been the police, not me, coming here to see you.

    Chelsea watched the front door close behind Mark Harrison. She didn't move until she heard his car back down the driveway and roar off, unwilling to admit that his words had struck a painful chord deep inside her. Worry that something would happen to her precious daughter dogged her steps even more now that Colleen had suddenly reached the threshold of womanhood.

    She took several deep breaths before turning back to her daughter. Would you like to give me the whole story now? she said with dangerous calm.

    Colleen winced. It's not what you think.

    Oh, really? What am I thinking?

    You're thinking that Elaine and I went there to pick up guys.

    If you didn't go there to pick up guys, why did you go?

    Colleen shifted uneasily in her chair. Would you believe to research a psychology report on the mating habits of today's singles?

    Not a chance. School doesn't start until next week. How did you get the dress?

    Elaine and I stopped by the shop. I'll pay for the lingerie, she hastened to add. And I'll have the dress dry cleaned. After all, Mom, you never sell the samples. That's why I took this one. I figured you'd prefer my taking a sample than something off the rack.

    Chelsea raked her hair with her fingers, dislodging her reading glasses, which tumbled, unheeded, to the carpet. From the day you were born you never gave me a minute's trouble, she sighed. You slept all night, suffered from colic only twice, and you didn't even go through the terrible twos that so many other mothers moaned about. Even puberty, with all those hormonal changes, was a breeze. Are you trying to make up for lost time now? Her voice rose with her agitation.

    Colleen stood up sensing she was going to need every advantage she could get. We just wanted to see what Rick's was like. We weren't out for trouble.

    Chelsea was unmoved. Try again.

    Okay, Elaine and I made a mistake in going there. But we were curious. You know, to see if singles places are like they show in the movies. That's all! Colleen insisted.

    Chelsea searched her daughter's features. She had always been grateful that Colleen never lied to her. She sincerely hoped the girl wasn't beginning now. All right, go on up to bed, she said finally. "I'm not forgetting about this, though. From now until I say differently, you work at the shop every day until school starts to pay for what you took. When school starts next week, you can come in

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