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    True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes
    True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes
    True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes
    Ebook120 pages1 hour

    True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes

    By Mimi Riser

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    About this ebook

    Love, laughs, ghosts, and muffins! A double-genre collection – four short romantic comedies plus twenty recipes (because nothing says lovin’ like something from the oven). Includes two historicals, “Wedding Bell BOOs” and its sequel “Hooray for the Red, White & BOO!” and two spirited contemporaries, “Marrying Mona” and its sequel “Seducing Sophia”...

    “Wedding Bell BOOs” (Victorian romance): Forced to accept a job as governess in the home of Ian Armstrong, the impeccably proper Miranda is determined to resist her devilish employer, while Ian is just as determined to make Miranda his wife. Neither expects to be bushwhacked by a snarky ghost who seems determined to kill them both... Miranda and Ian are in for a very surprising night.

    “Hooray for the Red, White & BOO!” (the sequel to “Wedding Bell BOOs”): When Ian is clubbed and Miranda is kidnapped, Ian’s reckless sister Iris rides to the rescue, never dreaming she might fall (literally) into the arms of love.

    “Marrying Mona” (contemporary romance): Bad-boy Danny D’Leon is handsome and rich. And not the marrying kind—he thinks. Good-girl Mona agrees. She thinks he’s a louse, and not without reason. They both made a big mistake getting involved even briefly. But since they did, and that fateful fling left Mona in, shall we say, a compromised position, it’s time for Danny to grow up and make the marriage commitment, despite Mona’s resistance, his own doubts, and some dubious help from a clairvoyant grandmother... No, this is not going to be easy.

    “Seducing Sophia” (the sequel to “Marrying Mona”): Byron Sharpe doesn’t care about love; all he wants is MONEY. Sophia D’Leon is already rich; what she wants is ROMANCE. When the two are brought together by Sophia’s flamboyant and clairvoyant grandmother, they both get a lusty surprise and a lot more than they’re looking for. Let the games begin!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMimi Riser
    Release dateJun 9, 2016
    ISBN9781311864956
    True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes
    Author

    Mimi Riser

    Mimi Riser is a longtime author of fiction and nonfiction, including several series and spanning a variety of genres (with flavors ranging from sweet to spicy hot). Her books celebrate the upbeat, the offbeat, and “beating the odds.” She began life in the urban northeast, but now resides in the rural southwest with her best friend & husband Rob.

    Read more from Mimi Riser

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      Book preview

      True BOO (4 Tales) Romance & Recipes - Mimi Riser

      True BOO

      (4 Tales)

      ROMANCE & RECIPES

      Love, laughs, ghosts, and muffins! Four short romantic comedies plus twenty recipes (because nothing says lovin’ like something from the oven). Includes two historicals, Wedding Bell BOOs and its sequel Hooray for the Red, White & BOO! and two spirited contemporaries, Marrying Mona and its sequel Seducing Sophia.

      MIMI RISER

      www.mimiriser.com

      Smashwords Edition:

      Copyright © 2016 by Mimi Riser

      All rights reserved.

      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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      (Disclaimer: These stories are works of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.)

      <>*<>*<>*<>

      Chapter 1

      Wedding Bell BOOs

      Outside the Armstrong mansion a recent snowfall covered the Connecticut countryside with crystalline white. Inside, somber elegance reigned. Dark hued draperies and rich carpets muffled sound, and a broody hush haunted the rooms—except the middle room of the second floor.

      Miranda Scott stared in dismay at a nursery littered with toppled toys while two little brunettes in pigtails and pinafores stood in the center of the mess loudly lamenting the loss of a rosy pink velveteen rabbit they’d just destroyed in a tug-of-war.

      You killed Peter! Violet yelled at her twin sister.

      Did not! Daisy shouted. "You did!"

      And they went at it, slapping and clawing each other like a melee of mad kittens.

      Miranda glanced about for help, but the dour old housekeeper, Mrs. Grimp, who’d ushered her up here, had already retreated down the back stairs to finish whatever task it was that Miranda’s recent arrival had interrupted. Napping, possibly; the woman looked like a female Methuselah. In any case, the message was clear. The terrible twins were no longer Mrs. Grimp’s problem. As the newly hired governess, it was now Miranda’s job to keep the nursery and the six-year-olds in order.

      And she hadn’t a clue how to begin. Miranda hadn’t been bred for this sort of work—or any work really. The only child of upper crust parents, she’d been orphaned in infancy and become the ward of a wealthy uncle who’d raised her in genteel luxury and taught her to shun any endeavor that might sully her mind or soil her hands.

      What a shock then to discover upon his death that Uncle Oliver, so proper and pious at home, had squandered the entire family fortune in houses of ill repute.

      Well, at least it explained what he’d been doing on all those mysterious business trips he’d been wont to take. But it had also left Miranda penniless and forced to take the first paying position she was offered. Or the second anyway, the actual first being an offer of marriage and utterly out of the question considering who proposed it. Her current employer, ironically enough. The arrogant Mr. Armstrong, banker, widower, and father of the little hoydens before her—which rather accounted for their bad behavior. It was in their blood.

      The thought stiffened her spine as she marched toward the twins and pulled them apart by their pinafore strings. Enough! You will stop fighting and play nicely together, or I will make you both sit in a corner until you take root.

      You can’t make us do anything!

      You’re not our mother!

      No, but she could be, a low voice murmured from the doorway.

      Her breath caught as Ian Armstrong stepped into the room, looking as though he owned the place—which he did, unfortunately—looking handsome as the devil and just as sinful. Tall, dark, and dangerous.

      He smiled.

      She didn’t.

      My original offer still stands, Miss Scott, if you’d care to reconsider it.

      Miranda clamped her lips shut lest she say something unladylike. The nerve of the man. His original offer had, in fact, been made barely a week ago, on their first meeting, no less. They’d been introduced—at Ian’s request—by her late uncle’s attorney, and Miranda had disliked him on sight purely from the way he’d eyed her up and down as though appraising a side of beef in a butcher’s shop.

      Yes, I believe you’ll do, he had said.

      "For what, sir?" She had given him her frostiest stare.

      He’d ignored it. For my wife, Miss Scott. You need money. I need a mother for my children. Consider it a business arrangement—a marriage of mutual convenience, if you will.

      Deplorable.

      "But I will not. For you edification, Mr. Armstrong, I would consider such an ‘arrangement’ not only inconvenient but indecent. I hardly know you, sir."

      A moot point, miss. I understand your hesitance, but let me assure you that marriage is an excellent way to become acquainted. Give it a few months and you may even discover a certain fondness for me.

      Never.

      Don’t sound so sure, Miss Scott. He’d chuckled—a demonic sound, Miranda had thought. You see the truth of the matter is that your uncle died owing me a great deal of money, and you, as his sole heir, have inherited his debt. Marry me, and I’ll forgive it. Otherwise you’ll have to work it off as governess to my girls. And I shall you expect you to begin that employment by the end of the week.

      And so she had. Better Satan’s imps than Satan himself. Stepmother or governess, she would’ve had to deal with the girls regardless. This way at least she could avoid sleeping with their sire. Miranda didn’t intend to sleep much, period. She had other plans for her nights, after the twins were safely abed.

      Epic romance! The literary sort, of course, since no decent lady would pursue the reality. Writing one was another matter. Miranda had read scores of novels and often dreamed of penning her own. Now was the perfect time to try, if only because she had the perfect model for a villain before her. Besides which, if the book proved successful, she might earn enough to pay him off quickly. If not, she could still reap satisfaction from killing him slowly in poetic prose.

      Momentarily distracted by murderous musings, she scarcely noticed that Ian had gathered his daughters into a paternal hug. A tender sight, no doubt, but she’d been trying to decide whether to boil him in oil or have him torn apart by wild beasts…

      Papa, look what happened to Peter! Will you buy us another?

      Certainly, sugarplum. Don’t I always?

      Always?

      That got Miranda’s attention.

      No. If you buy them a new toy every time they break one, they’ll never learn to care for what they already have. Not that she was an expert on such matters, but it was only common sense. Right?

      Ian’s brows arched in seeming surprise. Apparently he hadn’t expected her to voice any opinion on the matter. Which made one wonder why he’d wanted her here in the first place. Weren’t governesses (and mothers, too) supposed to offer such advice? God knew Miranda’s old governess had. The sudden memory of that dear woman, so gentle but ever firm, told Miranda how to play this nursery game. If she’d felt clueless before, she was full of ideas now.

      Girls, fetch needles and thread. We’re going to sew Peter back together and re-stuff him. He’ll be good as new in no time.

      But we don’t know how to sew! Violet wailed. Or maybe it was Daisy. They both looked a lot like Ian and even more like each other.

      "You don’t? Miranda gasped in wide-eyed mock horror, which made the girls giggle. Than I shall show you how. And after we fix Peter, I can teach you how to make doll clothes. She smiled and was rewarded with a matched set of delighted grins. But first I think you had better teach me how I can ever be certain which of you is which."

      Oh, that’s easy. Daisy always wears a white ribbon, and mine is blue.

      Both girls turned about, displaying

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