For a long time Dalton stood rightwhere he was, holding the baby, notsure whether to move or breathe.Then the coffeepot finished its cyclewith a final gurgle, popping Daltonout of his stupor. âHey, kid,â he said,thinking that would get the baby tomove.
But she only snuggled closer.
He turned to talk to her again, to tell her he was no one she wanted to get comfy on, but when he did he caught a whiff of her shampoo. A sweet, fresh scent, with a touch of something he thought was called chamomile.
Beneath his nose, her hair was as soft as feathers, tickling lightly against his skin. He paused, inhaling the baby-light scent, allowing himself that one second of pretending.
Pretending she was his. That he was Sabrinaâs father. He trailed a finger along the peachy soft skin of her cheek, the fantasy of this being his family, his life, continuing. He nuzzled Sabrinaâs soft head and imagined carrying her upstairs, putting his daughter to bed and then shutting the door. To cross the hall and join Ellieâ¦
Praise for Shirley Jump:
âBOARDROOM BRIDE AND GROOM is well plotted,
and all of the characters are beautifully realised. While itâs often humorous, keep some tissues handy too.â âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
About SWEETHEART LOST AND FOUND
âThis tale of rekindled love is right on target: a delightful start to this uplifting, marriage-orientated series [The Wedding Planners].â âLibrary Journal.com
About NYT bestselling anthology SUGAR AND SPICE
âJumpâs office romance gives the collection a kick,
with fiery writing.â âPublishersWeekly.com
New York Times bestselling author Shirley Jump didnât have the will-power to diet, nor the talent to master under-eye concealer, so she bowed out of a career in television and opted instead for a career where she could be paid to eat at her deskâwriting. At first, seeking revenge on her children for their grocery store tantrums, she sold embarrassing essays about them to anthologies. However, it wasnât enough to feed her growing addiction to writing funny. So she turned to the world of romance novels, where messes are (usually) cleaned up before The End. In the worlds Shirley gets to create and control, the children listen to their parents, the husbands always remember holidays, and the housework is magically done by elves. Though sheâs thrilled to see her books in stores around the world, Shirley mostly writes because it gives her an excuse to avoid cleaning the toilets and helps feed her shoe habit. To learn more, visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com
Dear Reader
I had such fun writing DOORSTEP DADDY! It brought back all those memories of having my children, of those early days when they were babies. Both the difficulties and the joys of raising little onesâ and especially those sleepless nights!
Like all new mums, I made lots of mistakes and had tons of joyous days. My favourite moments of all, though, were the quiet ones. The naps on the sofa, when the baby fell asleep on my chest and I could just watch her sleep, or feel the rise and fall of that little chest. The laughter of my son, who had this deep chortle that got me every time and made it impossible to stay mad at him for more than a split second, no matter what heâd spilled or painted or âfixedâ.
Every age has had its challenges and rewards. There were the bedtime stories and the kisses, the drawings and the basketball games, the road trips and the endless questions. My children have enriched life for my husband and I, and I canât imagine life without them. They make every day an adventure, and bring a dash of excitement to everything we do.
But most of all they are my heart, and though theyâre now way past the age of preschool and kindergarten, and closer to the age of sleepover camp and learning to drive, I still get teary on that first day of school and have a hard time saying goodbye. If I could, Iâd keep them close for ever.
Until then, Iâll just keep on trying to preserve every moment I can, and look forward to grandchildren!
Shirley
To my children. Every day with you is a precious gift,
and I thank God for blessing me with two of the most wonderful children in the world.
CHAPTER ONE
HE CREPT silently into the bedroom, his footstepsmuffled by the hearty drumbeat of a summerthunderstorm.
He raised the knife, pausing only long enoughto delight in the quick flash of lightning that illuminatedhis victimâs terrified face, beforeâ
âDalton, I need your help!â
Dalton Scott let out a curse. Then another one. His neighbor. Viola Winterberry, one of those people who needed favors like trick-or-treaters needed another chocolate bar, was somewhere downstairs.
Interrupting. Again.
âIâm working, Mrs. Winterberry. On the book,â he called down.
âI know,â she said, her voice rising in volume as she climbed the stairs toward his office, âbut I haveââ
âIâm on a deadline.â He shouted the words, heavy on the hint-hint.