A Wedding In The Family

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

little Heather said.

“No,” Angela responded with a soft laugh. “Mommy isn’t asking for a man in her life.”

“But you’ve been alone a long time. Wouldn’t you like somebody to keep you company?” the six-year-old persisted.

“I’m fine with just you and your brothers,” Angela told her small daughter. “Good night, sweetie.”

Angela closed Heather’s bedroom door and leaned against it. What would she do if someone like Adam Dalton entered her life now, threatening her newly found independence? She winced at the thought.

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered, half in humor and half in desperation, “please don’t send me another man…”

writes inspirational romance because, having been a Christian for many years, incorporating the element of faith in the Lord into a romantic story line seemed like a lovely and appropriate idea. After all, in a society where love for a lifetime is difficult to find, imagine discovering it, unexpectedly, as a gift sent from God.

Married to Kelly, her own personal love of a lifetime, Kathryn and her husband have one son, John, who is the proud owner of the family’s two house pests, Herbie the cat and Copper the dog.

Kathryn and her family have been members of their church for nearly five years, where she co-teaches a Sunday school class of active two-year-olds. She is now a stay-at-home mom who writes between car pooling, baby-sitting and applying bandages, when necessary.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

—Psalm 121:1-2

To Mom, for her love and unending encouragement throughout the years, and to Grandma, for everything, always.

The ringing doorbell awakened Angela, more from its persistence than from its volume. She sat up on the sofa she had occupied almost from the moment she arrived home from work, and pushed her hair back from her forehead.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called out with a cough to the unexpected visitor. The cold that had plagued her throughout much of the week had finally won the battle, forcing Angela to admit that she was sick and that, like it or not, she needed some rest.

The impatient ringing continued, even as she opened the front door.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked in a scratchy voice when she finally pulled open the heavy wooden door of her apartment.

“Mom?! Where were you?!” cried a little darkhaired girl who rushed immediately into Angela’s arms, burying her tearstained face in her mother’s soft sweatshirt.

“Heather? What’s the matter? What happened?” Angela quickly asked, looking from her six-year-old daughter into the frowning face of the tall, lean figure standing nearby. “What’s wrong with her? What did you do—”

“What I ‘did’ was bring her home safely to you.” His interruption was harsh, and his words spoken sharply. “I found her sitting on the curb in the dark outside the recreation center—all alone and crying. Is that your usual practice? To leave a little girl wondering if she’s going to have a ride home from her swimming lesson?”

“No, of course not,” Angela replied. “I couldn’t pick her up tonight because I’m sick, so I made arrangements—”

“Your ‘arrangements’ didn’t work out. No one showed up. I had just locked the office and was leaving for the night when I saw her sitting there, crying. Didn’t you notice it was getting late? Swimming lessons have been over for more than an hour. She should have been home long before this.” Eyes of gunmetal gray glared at her in bridled anger.

Who was this man who had delivered her child to her front door and now stood accusing her of negligence? Something about him seemed familiar.

“I was asleep…I’ve been sick—” Angela suddenly felt much sicker, realizing what might have happened to her daughter if this man hadn’t played the role of the Good Samaritan. And Eric—how could he forget to pick up his niece? She had asked him only hours earlier. “I did hear the phone ring a while ago, but I didn’t reach it in time. Maybe—”

“Don’t you own an answering machine?”

“Yes, but it’s broken. As of this morning.” When her son, David, had accidently knocked it off the microwave.

“Well, buy a new one. That call you missed was from Heather. I took her into my office to call you so she could tell you who was bringing her home. You know, it’s not a wise move to tell someone else’s kid to get into your vehicle so you can take them somewhere without the parent’s permission. I didn’t like the idea of the possible accusations you could bring against me if this whole thing ended in misunderstanding. If you’d had an answering machine on, she could have left a message—”