A welcome moment of harmony. It felt like an oasis in the desert of this difficult journey. Neither of them spoke right away, as if they were both afraid another word would make the feeling break like a mirage.
âKittyââ
She held up her hand. âNo, itâs all right, David. I know itâs hard to accept. Hard to believe. And youâve got a lot of things to consider. Iâm sure youâll want to talk to your lawyer before youââ
âNo.â
She stopped cold. âNo?â
âNo. I donât need to talk to Colby. I donât want Colbyâs advice. I know what I want to do.â
She held her breath.
âI want to marry you.â
Dear Reader,
The last time you saw David Gerard, he wasnât a happy man. Heâd just been dumped by the woman heâd hoped to marry. But Belle Carson found her happily-ever-after with Matt Malone in For the Love of Family, the book I wrote for Harlequin Superromanceâs wonderful Diamond Legacy series. And that locked gorgeous David out in the cold.
Thanks to your emails and letters, I couldnât leave him there. Apparently weâre all die-hard romantics. We donât buy into the myth that nice guys finish last!
David doesnât take the easy road to true love. When he decides to tap into his inner bad boy, he makes some terrible mistakesâthe worst being a one-night stand with a green-haired bartender he meets in the Bahamas. Then Kitty Hemmings shows up pregnant, and David realizes itâs time to pay the price for being such a fool.
First thing to go? That level-headed life heâs worked so hard to build. Because Kitty is one lady who wonât be tamedânot unless this sensible guy is willing to go all out to win her heart.
I hope you enjoy their spark-filled journey toward becoming a family. I love to hear from my readers, so be sure to mail me at P.O. Box 947633, Maitland, FL 32794, or email me at [email protected]. Or letâs be friends on Facebook! See you online!
Warmly,
Kathleen OâBrien
Kathleen OâBrien was a feature writer and TV critic before marrying a fellow journalist. Motherhood, which followed soon after, was so marvelous she turned to writing novels, which could be done at home. She works hard to pack her backyard with birds, butterflies and squirrels. Indoors, her two cockatiels, Honey and Lizzie, announce repeatedly, if not humbly, that they are âpretty birds.â Her colorful Gouldian finch, who lives in her office, fills every day with music.
To Nancy, Kris, Leslie, Deirdre and Dawn,
the SHU buddies who have, over the past couple of years, added so much fun and focus to my writing!
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
SHE WAS GOING to marry him?
Kitty Hemmings stared at the cell phone and tried to process the words sheâd just heard on her voice mail. Surely her mother hadnât said marry. No matter how low the womanâs self-esteem had plummeted, no matter how desperately she needed a Y chromosome by her side, she wouldnâtâshe couldnâtâactually marry Jim Oliphant.
The beachside bar speakers launched into a steel drum version of âRed, Red Wine,â and the breeze, always warm here in the Bahamas even in November, gusted gently across her hot cheeks. Suddenly Kittyâs hands began to shake. She gripped the handle of the beer spigot for balance.
Lucinda Hemmings had pulled some pathetic stunts in her time. But marrying that bastard would top them all. Jim was a dozen years younger than her mother. He was slick and charming, but stone-broke, of course, just another barnacle trying to attach his empty wallet to Lucindaâs bank account.
Heâd hung around more than eight years, a record for any of her motherâs boyfriends. Kitty had been hoping, any day, to hear that heâd given up and gone away. Sheâd even dreamed about Lochaven last night, about the Virginia oaks covered in Spanish moss, and the red tile roof, and her own bedroom, where her poster of Johnny Depp still hung on the door. For the first time in eight years, sheâd let herself imagine what it might be like to live in a real house again, and not a crummy efficiency apartment or service-industry dorm.
But nowâ¦with Oliphant permanently installedâ¦
Her mother had sounded so happy. Kitty bit down on her lower lip, remembering the lilt in the voice, and the subtle slur that said Lucinda hadnât declined an extra flute of champagne with dinner. Of course not. Jim Oliphant didnât drink alone. âI know you donât like him, sweetheart, butâ¦â
Like him? Kittyâs lunch rose briefly into her throat, an acidic reminder of the mandarin oranges sheâd wolfed down between shifts. Like him? Who could like Jim Oliphant? He might be square-jawed and handsome on the outside, but on the inside he was what her father called âme de boue. Soul of mud.