hard as you and my mom worked on it,” he said, “it was guaranteed to be perfect.”
She blinked back tears at the fun she’d had planning the wedding with Roma. “Your mother is amazing.”
“She’s your mother, too, now,” he reminded her.
And the tears trickled out. “I feel that way.” That she truly had a mother now. “And my dad loves you like a son.” He couldn’t have been prouder than to have his daughter marry a hero like FBI Agent Brendan O’Hannigan.
“I’m glad,” Brendan said. “But right now I don’t want to talk about your dad or my mom.” He stepped closer to her, as if closing in on a suspect. “I don’t want to talk at all.”
Her tears quickly dried as she smiled in anticipation. “Oh, what would you rather do?”
“Get you the hell out of this dress,” he said as he stared down at the yards of white lace and satin.
With its sweetheart neckline, long sleeves and flowing train, it was a gown fit for a princess—or so his mother had convinced her. Josie was glad, though, because she had wanted something special for this special day. A gown that she could one day pass down to a daughter.
“Your mom told the seamstress to put in a zipper,” she told him. “She said her son was too impatient for buttons.”
He grinned and reached for the tab. The zipper gave a metallic sigh as he released it, and the weight of the fabric pulled down the gown. She stood before her husband in nothing but a white lace bra and panties.
“You’re the one wearing too many clothes now,” she complained and reached for his bow tie.
He shrugged off his jacket, and for once he wore no holsters beneath it. He carried no guns. When their honeymoon was over, he would, but as a supervising agent, he wouldn’t often have occasion to use them. He wasn’t going undercover anymore—except with her.
She pulled back the blankets on the bed as he quickly discarded the rest of his clothes. “In a hurry?” she teased.
“I don’t know how much time we’ll have before CJ shows up,” he admitted.
“His grandparents promised to keep him busy for the next couple of days,” she reminded him. “And he’s more fascinated with the royal babies right now than he is with us.”
Brendan grinned and reached for her.
“He wants one, you know,” Josie warned.
Brendan kissed her softly, tenderly, and admitted in a whisper, “So do I.”
She regretted all that her unfounded suspicions had cost him—seeing her pregnant, feeling their son kick, seeing him born, holding him as a sweet-smelling infant.
But she would make it up to him with more babies—and with all her love. She tugged her naked husband down onto the bed with her. “Then we better get busy …”
Building their family and their lives together.
Between walking her Jack Russell-Beagle mix, petting her two cats and driving her two kids all over creation, AMANDA BERRY writes contemporary romance novels (thanks to a supportive husband). A Midwest girl stuck in the wetlands of South Carolina, she finds inspiration in her small-town upbringing. A list of her current releases and backlist can be found at amanda-berry.com.
To my critique partners, Jeannie Lin, Shawntelle Madison, Kristi Lea and Dawn Blankenship, who helped me develop my idea and create a cohesive story and kept me sane. I’d be lost without them.
To Stephanie Draven, who helped me make my synopsis the best it could be.
To Maggie Mae who read through my entire first draft and gave me awesome advice.
To Missouri Romance Writers, who inspire me and provide a safe space for those of us with stories to tell.
To my agent Becca Stumpf and my first editor Patience Bloom who helped me finally find the right story to tell.
To my family for putting up with the craziness of a writer.
To my husband for allowing me to live my dream.
Eight years earlier
Brady Ward didn’t stir as the bed dipped and rose. Maggie’s bare feet slapped lightly against the wood floor. The sound of her gathering her scattered clothes from around his childhood room broke the otherwise silent morning. Even the old rooster hadn’t woken to greet the day.
The last few stragglers from Luke’s graduation party had left minutes before. The sound of engines starting had awakened him from the light sleep. Apparently, it had woken Maggie, as well. His side cooled where her body had been moments before.
Brady remained still so she could slip out of his life as easily as she had slipped into his bed last night. He could almost taste the potential in the air. That this could be more if they wanted it to be. If things were different, they could be more than just one night.
The metal rattle of his doorknob stopped suddenly and he swore he could feel her gaze on his bare back. As if giving him that final moment to reach out and welcome her back into his bed, give her the promise of something more. But he couldn’t give anyone that.
The light floral scent of Maggie drifted over him like a Siren beckoning. Her soft voice lingered in his mind—I don’t normally do this. Her rich, blond hair had felt like silk in his hands while her hazel eyes had made him feel like the only man in the world.
The door whispered open with a sigh, and she was gone.
Brady rolled and stared up at the ceiling. The graying plaster had cracked, and a daddy longlegs had taken up residence in the corner of his room. He rubbed the dull, familiar ache in his chest.
Last summer had been hard enough. He’d come home from college to help Sam with the farm and tried to keep Luke from getting into too much trouble. Burying the fact that without their mother and father, the three brothers weren’t as close a family as they once were.
No use pretending sleep would come. Brady rolled out of bed and pulled on some jeans before plodding down to the only bathroom in the house for a quick, cold shower.
As if he hadn’t been away at college for a full year, he fell into the rhythm of chores like he’d always done, because it was expected. Summer break didn’t mean he got to laze around the house all day.
By the time the cows were fed and
