âI wish you had told me I was making a mistake by marrying Josh. I would have listened to you.â
âBut would you have heard me?â Ericâs mouth slid into that endearing, lopsided grin. âCome on, MollyâIâve known you a long time. I know you have to make up your own mind.â
But could she? She already knew she wasnât getting married, but that was all sheâd figured out about her lifeâabout her future.
Molly forced a challenging smile. âAre you calling me stubborn?â
His grin widened. âI didnât say you were the only one.â
âIâm not. You did something none of us could talk you out of doing.â Enlisting in the Marines.
She fisted her hands as they began to tremble. Their other friends had always teased her that he was in love with her, but theyâd been wrong. If he had loved her, he wouldnât have left her when sheâd needed him most.
Dear Reader,
Writing Finally a Bride was bittersweet for me. While Iâve been anxious to tell Molly McClintockâs story ever since she ran out on her wedding in Unexpected Bride (February â08), her book is the conclusion to my THE WEDDING PARTY series for Harlequin American Romance. Molly, with her love of books and romantic nature, is a kindred spirit. Not just with me but with her best friend, Eric South. I hope you enjoy the story of the runaway bride and the man who has always been her hero.
Writing these books has been quite the challenge, as the four stories occur simultaneously. But itâs been a true labor of love. As Iâve finished each book, Iâve thought it my favorite, including Finally a Bride. Not only does Molly get her happy endingâbut so do several other residents of Cloverville, the small town in Michigan where Iâve spent so much time it feels real to me.
I hope youâve enjoyed the time youâve spent in Cloverville, too!
Happy reading!
Lisa Childs
Bestselling, award-winning author Lisa Childs writes paranormal and contemporary romance for Harlequin/Silhouette Books. She lives on thirty acres in west Michigan with her husband, two daughters, a talkative Siamese and a long-haired Chihuahua who thinks sheâs a rottweiler. Lisa loves hearing from readers, who can contact her through her Web site, www.lisachilds.com, or by snail mail at P.O. Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.
His hand shaking, Eric South replaced the cordless phone on the charger. She didnât do it. She didnât go through with it. He blew out a ragged breath of relief. Before he could draw another, a chime sounded. He reached for the phone againâit had been ringing off the hook all morning. But only a dial tone filled his ear.
The front door rattled as knuckles rapped hard against the wood, Ericâs visitor obviously giving up on the bell. He dropped the phone and headed from the kitchen across the small, square living area to the door. As he drew it open, his heart thumped hard once, then twice. She was so damn beautifulâeven in jeans and a gray zip-up sweatshirt. Her chocolate-brown curls had been tamed into perfect ringlets, held in position by the headpiece of her long white veil.
âYou didnât come to my wedding,â Molly McClintock said, her voice full of accusation, her wide brown eyes glistening with unshed tears.
âFrom what I hear, neither did you,â Eric murmured.
âEric!â She lifted her hands as if to strangle him, but instead she wrapped them around the nape of his neck and stepped into his embrace.
He was helpless to resist her, and his arms lifted almost as if of their own accord. He wrapped them tight around her, holding her as she sobbed into his shirt. She pressed close, crushing her breasts against his chest.
If she burrowed any closer, sheâd be a part of him. Hell, she already was; she had been since the second grade. That was why he hadnât been able to stand up at, or even attend, her wedding. How could he watch her marry another man when sheâd promised to marry him then, when they were both seven? But he couldnât hold her to a promise made almost twenty years ago.
She pushed against Eric, nearly knocking him off his feet.
He stumbled back from the doorway. âMollyâ¦â
âLet me inside, Eric, before someone sees me,â she pleaded, pushing harder.
He stepped back and she brushed past him, then closed the door, shutting them both inside his secluded log cabin. âMolly, my house isnât exactly on the main drag. No oneâs going to see you.â
âThey havenât called you?â
âWellâ¦â
âTheyâre already looking for me here.â Panic widened her eyes even more. âIâm going to have to find someplace else to go.â