Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Read online

  A roaring twenties runaway...

  A baby who needs a daddy!

  With the Chicago mob hot on her heels and her late best friend’s baby in her arms, Helen Hathaway hightails it to Hollywood. There she finds little Grace’s uncle, charismatic film producer Jack McCarney. She knows she should keep him—and Grace—at arm’s length; after all, they could be wrenched apart by Grace’s father’s return. But instead she’s falling for Jack, bonded by the baby who needs them both...

  Brides of the Roaring Twenties

  Finding husbands in Hollywood!

  Helen and Shirley are looking for a fresh start, and the bright lights of Hollywood beckon.

  They thought they’d left scandal behind them,

  but find plenty more adventure awaits them among the speakeasies, starlets and the silver screen.

  What they need are two handsome Hollywood bachelors to guide them through this dazzling new world—and down the aisle?

  Read Helen’s story in

  Baby on His Hollywood Doorstep

  And look out for Shirley’s story

  Coming soon!

  Author Note

  When given the option, I regularly choose books over movies; however, there truly is nothing like becoming engrossed in a movie while digging into a big container of warm buttered popcorn. It’s a pastime that formed solid roots during the 1920s and is still going strong today. The Roaring Twenties was a fascinating time for America and a time of great change around the world. Economies were thriving, cities were booming and industries were blossoming—including the movie industry. Americans had more leisure time than ever before and quickly fell in love with going to the movies. Stars of black-and-white films became household names as theaters popped up across the nation. By the end of the decade, movies had sound, color and even an array of special effects—not as we know them today, but each was a huge advance in its own right.

  The movie industry gave us something else—a place for young couples to go on dates. That’s where I went on my first date. Not with my hubby. He took me horseback riding. Stole my heart right then and there.

  In this story, Jack and Helen don’t go to the movies on their first date, either. Jack is the owner of Star’s Studio, and he has put his heart, soul and pocketbook into making his next movie. And Helen, well, she’s the woman who drops a baby off on his doorstep.

  I hope you enjoy their story, and their trials and errors as they journey to their happily-ever-after.

  Lauri Robinson

  Baby on His Hollywood Doorstep

  A lover of fairy tales and cowboy boots, Lauri Robinson can’t imagine a better profession than penning happily-ever-after stories about men and women who pull on a pair of boots before riding off into the sunset...or kick them off for other reasons. Lauri and her husband raised three sons in their rural Minnesota home and are now getting their just rewards by spoiling their grandchildren.

  Visit her at laurirobinson.blogspot.com, Facebook.com/lauri.robinson1 or Twitter.com/laurir.

  Books by Lauri Robinson

  Harlequin Historical

  Western Spring Weddings

  “When a Cowboy Says I Do”

  Her Cheyenne Warrior

  Unwrapping the Rancher’s Secret

  The Cowboy’s Orphan Bride

  Western Christmas Brides

  “A Bride and Baby for Christmas”

  Married to Claim the Rancher’s Heir

  Diary of a War Bride

  Oak Grove

  Mail-Order Brides of Oak Grove

  “Surprise Bride for the Cowboy”

  Winning the Mail-Order Bride

  In the Sheriff’s Protection

  Brides of the Roaring Twenties

  Baby on His Hollywood Doorstep

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To my only sister, Cheri. An amazing woman.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Reunited with His Long-Lost Cinderella by Laura Martin

  Prologue

  Chicago, Illinois, 1925

  She’d done it!

  Helen Hathaway pinched the clasp on her purse, making sure it was securely closed. It was only a piece of paper, but that secretarial course certificate meant far more to her. It was her future.

  She already had a job!

  Would start tomorrow.

  The happiness of her accomplishment was overshadowed by worry of what her father would say about it all. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach while glancing at the back of his head in front of her. He was driving, her brother sitting next to him. The two of them were laughing about something. She hadn’t heard what. Hadn’t been paying attention.

  Her mind was on that certificate in her purse.

  She glanced at her mother, sitting next to her in the backseat. Mother was the only one who knew she’d taken the secretarial course. Who knew she wanted a job outside of the family business. One that would eventually get her out of Chicago.

  Far. Far away.

  A hint of guilt tickled Helen’s stomach. Not even Mother knew how far away she wanted to get.

  Offering her one of her secretive smiles, Mother nodded. “Ray,” she said while smoothing the cuff of the pink glove on her wrist. “Helen has something to celebrate tonight, too.”

  “She does?” Father answered.

  A ripple of excitement shot through Helen at the sound of enthusiasm in his voice. She bit back a smile, but it was to no avail. She couldn’t keep it hidden.

  Mother nodded again, and glanced toward the front seat.

  “Yes,” Helen said. “I got a job today.”

  “A job?” Junior, her brother twisted and lifted a dark brow as he looked at her over the seat. “Doing what?”

  He was only three years older than her, had just turned twenty last month, but acted far older and far more superior. As most of the men she knew did.

  She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “Typing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Typing what? Where?”

  “Helen completed a secretarial course, and today Mr. Stamper offered her a job at the laundry,” Mother said, giving Junior an eye that told him to keep any comments to himself. “It’s only a couple blocks away from the house, and will be something to keep her busy.”

  The smile tried to slip off Helen’s face, but she wouldn’t let it. Not while Junior was still looking at her. This job would do more than keep her busy, she’d show him. Show all of them.

  Junior snorte
d, and then turned around as father pulled the car into the lot near the restaurant. It was her uncle’s birthday. A big celebration. It was the first one like this that she’d been allowed to attend. She wasn’t overly excited about that. The less she had to do with the family, the more she liked it, but she was excited about her new dress. White with green stripes. The weather was warm, so she wasn’t wearing a jacket, but did have on a pair of pristine white gloves and matching shoes. Mother had helped her pick out the outfit and she would wear it again tomorrow, to her first day of work.

  That’s what she was really excited for.

  Father kissed her cheek as she climbed out of the car. “You want to work at the laundry?” he asked.

  Fearful that he’d deny her this, she nodded. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  He smiled and nodded. “All right, then.”

  Happiness fully engulfed her. She wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  He gave her a tight squeeze and then let her go to take ahold of Mother’s arm. Junior walked beside her as they all headed toward the restaurant. Junior gave her a questioning look, but she kept her eyes forward. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents and her brother, she just didn’t like who they were. Who she was. Now that she fully understood. The truth hadn’t shocked her, she’d always known they were different, that her father and brother didn’t have normal jobs.

  They were part of the Outfit. All of them. Her parents. Junior. Her. They were one of many families who lived two lives. An outside one, and an inside one.

  The noise inside the restaurant filtered out as Father opened the door and Junior held it as they all stepped inside. It was wall-to-wall people. Her uncle Vinnie, a formidable figure, stood on the far side of the room, surrounded by others, and waved at them as they entered.

  Mother took ahold of her arm. “Let’s go to the powder room while the men get a drink.”

  Helen caught glimpses of people she’d known her entire life, cousins, aunts and uncles as she followed her mother around tables and chairs toward the hallway at the back of the building. Most of them weren’t blood relatives, but were referred to as family because they were all part of the Outfit. Helen wondered if any of the others thought like her. Wanted out of this life before it was too late. That had resonated deep inside her when her cousin Amelia had been mugged by a member of the North End Gang.

  More than mugged.

  Mother stopped to visit, talking about the new dress she was wearing, and Helen, espying her cousin Karen, kept walking toward the hallway.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Karen asked, clapping her hands with glee. “Your first grown-up party?”

  Helen nodded, but kept her honest opinion about that to herself. “I got a job,” she whispered instead.

  Karen frowned. “Why?”

  Helen open her mouth to reply, but chaos struck just then. It was a moment before she realized what was happening. That the earsplitting rat-a-tat sound was gunfire. Tommy guns. Bullets were flying, glass shattering and people screaming, running, falling.

  “Run!”

  Someone grabbed her arm, she tried to shake it off, searching for her family, but there were too many people. Too many bullets.

  Chapter One

  California, 1927

  Helen tucked her chin into her neck in order to see over the top of her glasses and get a clear look at the building out of the car window. It wasn’t tall like the hundreds, maybe thousands they’d driven past, nor was it made of bricks or stone like so many of the ones that had taken up miles upon miles of the streets of Los Angeles. The city was larger than she’d imagined. That unsettled her and she hugged the baby sleeping in her arms a bit tighter while attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

  Made of wood, the building sprawled out along the street rather than upward like those downtown, and there were few windows, almost as if they didn’t want people looking inside. Several tall palm trees grew next to the building, and she had to wonder how trees could grow amongst so much concrete and traffic.

  “This is the address, ma’am,” the driver repeated.

  The streetcars didn’t come this far out, which is why she’d had to hire a taxi, yet there was plenty of traffic traveling up the road toward a gigantic white sign up on the hill. HOLLYWOODLAND.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Helen held it until her lungs burned. She checked the knot of the scarf tied beneath her chin, making sure it was tight, then picked up her purse and twisted to step out of the car without juggling Grace too much. Once on the curb, she shifted the baby farther into the crook of her arm in order to slip her purse onto her wrist under the baby so she could take the small suitcase the driver was fetching out of the black-and-green-checkered cab. That suitcase held all of her earthly possessions as well as Grace’s. A shiver rippled her insides, once again making her wonder if she could do this; yet she knew she had to.

  “Would you like me to carry this inside for you, ma’am?”

  Every nerve in her body was trembling. “No. No. Thank you.” Helen reached out, took the hard-sided case. “Thank you again for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am, and good luck to you.” He climbed back in the taxicab and pulled away from the curb.

  A horn honked as the taxi cut into the traffic and Helen’s stomach sank. Not in criticism of his skills, but at the departure itself. She was here. In California. Taking the last steps of the journey she and Grace had traveled. Once again, as she had a million times already, she wished there was another choice.

  There wasn’t.

  Her throat swelled up. Grace was such a good baby. Had barely fussed the entire train ride. Only whimpered a bit when she’d been hungry or needed a diaper change. She was adorable too, with her soft fuzzy blond hair and big dark eyes. The wave of sadness that engulfed Helen made her eyes sting.

  She approached the building with caution at first but, remembering that Grace would soon need to be fed, her footsteps grew more purposeful.

  It seemed odd that the address was for this—a building rather than a residence, a house or an apartment. But this is where Vera had mailed the letters to, so this is where they’d traveled to. She and Grace. All the way from Chicago.

  At the door, Helen paused. Star’s Studio was painted on the glass in sparkling gold paint. She had no idea what that would mean for Grace, and had to hope it would be good.

  She took another deep breath and grasped the handle.

  The door wouldn’t budge.

  She tried again. Jiggled the door.

  It was locked. Locked. In the middle of the day.

  She peered through the window, but it was too dark inside to see anything.

  Flustered she stepped back and glanced down at Grace. The baby was still sleeping, yet Helen whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t just leave you on the doorstep.”

  She wouldn’t, but she had prepared herself for this moment—the time where she would turn Grace over and walk away. It was going to break her heart, but the alternative was worse.

  The pain of losing her entire family in the raid by the North End Gang on the restaurant two years ago still lived inside her, as did watching Vera die only a few months ago. Pain like that was crippling, but she’d lived through it, and would this, too. Grace’s safety was far more important than anything else.

  “If I could keep you, I would,” she whispered to Grace. “But I can’t. You’ll never be safe with me. Never.”

  “Mr. McCarney isn’t booking any auditions right now.”

  Helen spun around and had to squint through the glasses she’d taken to wearing two years ago. They were part of her disguise, as was the dull baggy dress. Through the blur of the magnified glasses she didn’t need, she made out a woman walking toward her. She was dressed in a sleek, hip-hugging black-and-white-striped dress, complete with matching head scarf tied on the side,
and shoes that clicked against the concrete sidewalk.

  Another immense wave of everything from heartbreak to fear washed over Helen. “Mr. McCarney is here?” She glanced at the door. “Inside the building?”

  The woman stopped next to the door and frowned as her overly long and hard appraisal went from Helen’s toes to the top of her head before it settled on Grace. “Yes, he’s here, but he’s not taking auditions.” The woman inserted a key in the door.

  It took Helen a moment to find her voice. “I’m not here for an audition. I just—”

  “Whatever you are here for, Mr. McCarney cannot be disturbed.” The woman pulled the door open. “By anyone.”

  Despite the way her heart was breaking and her eyes burning, Helen knew she had to act now, or never might.

  “Here,” she said, handing Grace to the woman.

  Startled, the woman jostled slightly, but took Grace. Hurrying before she changed her mind, Helen set the suitcase on the ground and snapped it open. She pulled out the flour sack she’d filled with all of Grace’s things as the train had pulled into Los Angeles this morning. Then she reached in her purse and pulled out the bottle full of milk.

  Since the woman’s hands were full, Helen set the bag inside the door. Her throat was on fire and she had to fight hard to keep herself from crying. “Her clothes and diapers are in here, and another bottle and cans of milk.”

  “What? What are you doing?”

  Helen could no longer hold back the tears. They burned her cheeks as she set the bottle full of milk on Grace’s stomach and kissed her soft head one last time. “Her name is Grace and she’s a good baby.” Sobs were stealing her breath away. “A—a very good baby.”

  “What? No. Take her back!”

  The woman held Grace out, but Helen backed away. The pain inside her was so strong. Her heart was truly breaking in two. She shook her head. “She needs her father.”

  “I’m not her father!” the woman said.

  Helen grabbed the suitcase off the ground. “Mr. McCarney is.” She couldn’t see through the blur of tears, but she had to get away, so she ran. Ran. Like she had that night back in Chicago, when tommy guns had been spitting out bullets all around her.