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“You’re a hero, Daddy.” ABOUT THE AUTHOR Title Page 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 CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN Copyright
“You’re a hero, Daddy.”
Brittany held out a newspaper clipping. “This is what I brought for Show and Tell.”
Tyler frowned. In his daughter’s hands was a story of the airplane crash. The headline read: Local Man Is Hero.
“My teacher says you were very brave—the way you saved that lady” The child gazed up at him.
He shifted uneasily on the sofa “I’m not a hero, and the newspapers shouldn’t have said I was.”
Brittany’s face fell. “But my teacher said—”
“And your teacher’s right,” Tyler’s mother interjected.
“You father’s just being modest. He most certainly is a hero. Anybody who saves another person’s life is a hero.”
Brittany moved over to stand in front of Tyler. “Are you mad at me for bringing the newspaper to school?”
He gave her a squeeze. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. It was very nice of you to bring me for Show and Tell.” He gave her an extra hug. “I love you, Brittany.”
“I love you too, Daddy. And you are too a hero.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
You need two things if you’re going to survive winter in the Midwest—warm clothes and a sense of humor. Pamela Bauer possesses both. Thai’s why she often uses Minnesota as the setting for her romance novels. She believes there’s something special about this land of 10,000 lakes that makes it the perfect setting for stories about love and family. it also happens to be the place where she fell in love with her own real-life hero, her husband, Gerr.
Daddy’s Home is this award-winning author’s twenty-first romance for Harlequin. Not surprisingly, it too is set in Minnesota, and has a hero who knows how to warm a woman’s heart It’s a story full of Midwestern charm, which will leave you feeling good about love, about life and about family.
Daddy’s Home
Pamela Bauer
This book is dedicated to my father, the most
honest man I know.
Thanks, Dad, for showing me what a hero can be.
CHAPTER ONE
“DADDY’S HOME!”
Tyler Brant barely had the door open when his six-year-old daughter flung herself at him. If there was one thing he would never grow tired of, it was the feel of her small, warm body clinging to his.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, lifting her so that he could twirl her around in a circle. He gave her a hug before setting her down.
“I missed you, too, Daddy.”
“Why are you dressed like a squash, sweetheart?” Tyler asked, smiling at the face painted the same orange as the costume she wore. Covering her legs were bright green tights that matched the stemlike satin cap hiding her blond curls.
“I’m not a squash. I’m a pumpkin!” she said, shoving her hands onto a waist that was stuffed with padding.
“And a very pretty pumpkin at that. Did Gram make that for you?”
“Uh-huh. She sewed it on the sewing machine and sprinkled all the sparkly things on,” Brittany answered, wiggling in delight. “I get to be in the parade.”
“And what parade is that?”
It was Tyler’s mother who answered. “It’s the Anoka Pumpkin Festival on Saturday. They’ve invited Brittany’s class to ride on one of the floats,” Millie Brant explained, walking toward Tyler with a tape measure draped around her neck. She greeted him with her usual kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home.”
“Isn’t it a little chilly for a parade this time of year?” Automatically, his brow creased as he shrugged out of his topcoat.
“She’ll be dressed in warm clothes,” his mother replied.
“We get to throw candy to the little kids watching the parade,” Brittany added.
Tyler hid his smile.
“Are you going to come and see me, Daddy?” She looked at Tyler with big, round blue eyes so like the ones her mother used to flash at him. He saw Susan every time she batted those innocent eyes at him, and a pain caught somewhere between his heart and throat.
“I’d like to, but I’m afraid I have to work,” he answered.
The little face fell. “You always have to work.”
Guilt settled in Tyler’s stomach like a big old rock. It was true he put in long hours—longer than the average father, but he had responsibilities. Something a six-year-old didn’t understand. He looked to his mother for support.
She didn’t give it. Instead, she gave him a familiar look of reprobation. “You’ve just spent four days working away from home. Surely you can take a Saturday off.”
“Not this Saturday,” he responded soberly.
“But, Daddy, don’t you want to see me be in the parade?” Brittany asked.
“Of course I do. Let’s sit down. I brought
