© 1988

Dear Reader:

In a previous life, before the time of Plum, I wrote twelve short romance novels. Red-hot screwball comedies, each and every one of them. Nine of these stories were originally published by the Loveswept line between the years 1988 and 1992. All immediately went out-of-print and could be found only at used bookstores and yard sales. I'm excited to tell you that those nine stories are now being re-released by HarperCollins.

Thanksgiving is the sixth in the lineup, and it's presented here in almost original form. I've done only minor editing to correct some embarrassing bloopers missed the first time around.

When my kids were young we lived in northern Virginia, and Colonial Williamsburg was a favorite road trip. We'd visit the shops and eat in the taverns and sit on a bench and watch the ox cart rumble down the street. We especially loved to visit during the Thanksgiving and Christmas season when the restored houses were decorated with wreaths and the air had a chill to it.

Thanksgiving was inspired by these happy times spent with my husband and kids and often my best friend, Amy, and her son, Steven. It's a story about a fiery redhead, a cute pediatrician, and a matchmaker rabbit. It's filled with pumpkin pie, roaring fires, family, and newfound love.

Enjoy!

Megan Murphy scuffed through a thick layer of autumn leaves in her round – toed, black leather, gold – buckled shoes. Regulation colonial clodhoppers, she thought happily, bending over to pick leaves out of her buckles. Especially stylish with her blue – flowered thermal underwear and thick gray woolen socks. Yup, she was a real eighteenth – century sex goddess. But hey, it was cold out. Besides, what did the average slovenly trollop wear back then? Silk teddies and designer panty hose?