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The
Prodigal Bride
Beth Cornelison
Table of Contents
About the Author
BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honours for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.
She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.
To Paul, who has been my best friend and my Valentine for twenty-five years.
Thanks to Rani Ogitani for lending her name—again—to the babysitter in this book, a character you first met in Tall Dark Defender. Rani won the auction for this opportunity through Brenda Novak’s Diabetes Auction, held each year in May. Keep an eye out at this year’s auction for your chance to be a character in an upcoming book!
Chapter 1
Pregnant.
Zoey Bancroft stared at the pink plus sign on the test stick, and her world tilted. She was going to have Derek’s baby.
“Leapin’ lizards,” she muttered, her favorite expression since she’d starred as Annie in her junior high school’s production of the musical. She sank onto the edge of the Las Vegas motel bathtub and pressed a shaky hand to her swirling stomach. So maybe her nausea wasn’t from a bad burrito after all. Sucking in a slow deep breath, she tried to wrap her brain around the truth.
Pregnant. Judging by the date of her last period, she had to be two months along. And how do you feel about this? she imagined her sister Holly asking her.
Stunned. Confused. Scared.
And alone. Derek had made a hasty retreat when she’d suggested she might be carrying his child. The jerk. She’d believed in him, sacrificed for him, shared herself with him. But when she needed him most, he’d left her, unwilling to take responsibility for his child.
The whoosh of blood filled Zoey’s ears. Again her world tipped, until it listed precariously over a black void. A flutter of panic beat its wings in her chest. She’d believed Derek was her future. She’d thought herself in love with him, an illusion that had begun cracking weeks ago. What she’d wanted to believe was love, she saw now, had just been a fantasy, just the latest wrong turn in her search for her place in the world. Derek had left her dangling over this fathomless pit of isolation and fear. How could she have been so blind?
Her father had been right about Derek. She’d argued with her father, severed ties with her family and defended Derek and her choice to travel the country with him as he competed in poker tournaments, hoping for his big break. Dejection and regret settled in her chest like a cold rock when she saw how wrong she’d been to trust Derek. He’d used her, strung her along, dumped her when her money ran out and the chips were down. Just as her father had predicted.
She frowned as she stared in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The green-eyed reflection gazing back at her sought answers she didn’t have. Her appearance wasn’t substantially different from normal. She didn’t look like she thought a mother-to-be should. Instead of a healthy glow, her freckled cheeks seemed pale in the harsh fluorescent light. But wan complexion aside, the auburn-haired woman who stared back at her was the same lost-and-searching soul who’d been looking for herself, auditioning different life roles for all of her twenty-four years. She huffed her disgust.
Another screwup. How typical of you.
Okay,
