To Keep Her Baby

By: Melissa Senate

She was determined to transform herself.

But to him? She was perfect.


After Ginger O’Leary learns she’s pregnant, it’s time for a whole new Ginger. James Gallagher’s happy to help his aunt’s new student, but after years of raising his siblings, becoming attached isn’t in the plan. Yet neither is the way his heart soars every time he and Ginger match wits. What will it take for these two opposites to realize that they’re made for each other?





“You look great, by the way. Really, really great.”


Now she crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you paid to say that?”

“You can see for yourself that you look like the woman you want to turn into, Ginger.”

“Who—” she began, then bit her lip and glanced down.

Who died and left you king? was what she was going to say. “Sorry,” she said. “Now I’m being bossy. And a jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk. I’d rather you spoke your mind than didn’t.”

“But I don’t agree with you.”

“At least I know how you feel. And getting other points of view is good, especially from people you respect.”

She put her hands on her curvy hips. “Would you respect me if I didn’t look like a newscaster on her day off?”

He laughed. “Yes. Because you tell it like you see it. And you’re smart. It’s a good combo.”

“Stop making it hard for me to want to conk you on the head with a banana.”

* * *

THE WYOMING MULTIPLES:

Lots of babies, lots of love





Dear Reader,

With her heavy makeup, bleached-blond big hair, skimpy clothes and job as a barmaid, twenty-four-year-old Ginger O’Leary gets whispered about and put down. She’s used to that. Ginger is comfortable in her own skin and likes who she is. But when she discovers she’s pregnant and the baby’s rich father threatens to fight for custody because of how she looks, talks and acts, Ginger will do anything to keep her baby. Even if it means changing everything about herself.

So when she enrolls at Madame Davenport’s School of Etiquette in Wedlock Creek, Wyoming, she expects to become a person deemed worthy of being a mother. But with her teacher’s handsome godson, businessman James Gallagher, in her corner, Ginger and James both may discover more than they ever expected about acceptance, parenthood and love.

I hope you enjoy Ginger and James’s love story! I love to hear from readers. Feel free to visit my website and write me at [email protected]

Warmest regards,

Melissa Senate









Chapter One


“Miss O’Leary, please describe your goals if accepted as a pupil of Madame Davenport’s School of Etiquette,” Larilla Davenport said from behind her desk.

“Just look at me,” Ginger blurted out as she stood up. Her low-cut hot-pink tank top, size extra, extra small, showed the lacy tops of her leopard-print push-up bra. Babe was written in rhinestones across her ample chest. Her ruffled miniskirt, which came to an end just past her rear, was also extra small. Big was her platinum blond hair in “beachy waves” to her waist. Four-inch stilettos, a bunch of cheap bracelets and heavy makeup completed her usual daytime look.

The fiftysomething woman sitting across from her—so spiffy in an ice-blue sheath dress and matching jacket, her dark hair pulled back in one of those elegant buns at her nape—looked Ginger up and down. Yeah, she was used to that.

“My dear,” Madame Davenport said, “if you were just interested in changing your look, you could wash your face and buy a few new outfits. So why are you really interested in enrolling in my course?”

Because of last night. And this morning. Which felt like eons ago but had just been hours before. It started with the pregnancy test. The red plus sign appearing in the little window. Racing back to Walgreens for another test, which Ginger had taken in the bathroom at Busty’s, the “exotic dance saloon” where she worked as a waitress. Another plus sign. She was pregnant. Her, Ginger O’Leary. Someone’s mother?

The thought of it had knocked around in her head during her shift last night, serving the tap of the day and shots to leering customers. I’m pregnant? she’d kept thinking, setting down baskets of breaded mozzarella sticks and plates of loaded nachos on tables. Me?

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