A Hero to Come Home To (32 page)
Read A Hero to Come Home To Online
Authors: Marilyn Pappano
Tags: #Romance, #Family Life, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary, #Fiction
“You can’t do that!” Abby repeated, grabbing for the bra in Therese’s hand.
Therese shot her a look so hard that Abby should have fallen backward from the impact. Sullenly, she let her hand drop, then took a few steps away, her bottom lip poked out.
After a moment’s stare, Therese looked at the bra. Catherine hadn’t bothered with Victoria’s Secret, judging from the padded cups, red lace edging black satin and breakaway front clasp. She’d gone straight to Frederick’s of Hollywood. For her
thirteen-
year-old daughter! She dropped it into the suitcase, closed the flap and zipped it before reaching for the smaller bag.
Quivering with anger, Abby went to the closet. “You have to let me wear them.” She threw open both bifold doors, then clenched her fists. “I have nothing else. I left all my other clothes there because I knew you would do this. I told Mom so.”
She wasn’t exaggerating by much. Except for her school uniforms and the dresses she wore to church, her closet was practically empty. A few pairs of jeans, a couple of old T-shirts that had sentimental value but no fashion sense, two hoodies. There were gym shorts and underwear in her dresser, plus socks, but she’d taken practically everything else with her.
“You’d better call your mom and ask her to ship them back, then, or you’re going to get awfully tired of wearing the same things all the time.” Therese sorted through the second bag, confiscating three more pairs of ridiculous heels, two more bags of cosmetics and—she gulped silently—two of the skimpiest swimsuits she’d ever seen. She was surprised thunder didn’t roll across the plains from Paul’s roar of disapproval.
“I can’t do that because we threw them away.”
Therese hoped she was lying, but it sounded like exactly what she and Catherine would do. Catherine might be Abby’s mother, but she didn’t want to be. Occasional friendship without real responsibility better suited her nature, and conspiring with Abby to thwart Therese would be an easy way to cement that friendship.
“If that’s the case, you’ll have to buy new clothes from your allowance.”
She expected another roar, but the girl just stared at her. In that moment, there was nothing of Paul’s baby in her, just quiet fury. Malevolence. Sheer hatred. Her eyes were like chocolate ice, her rage unflinching, but when she spoke, her voice was far calmer than the shriek Therese was used to.
“You know, I don’t pray very much because I don’t think God really listens, but I do pray for one thing every night. I pray for you to die.”
Dear Reader,
When Sarah Osborne, the heroine of THE DUCHESS HUNT, entered my office for the first time, I thought she was a member of the janitorial staff and that she was there to clean.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m going to be working for a few more hours. Can you come back later?”
Her flush was instant, a dark red suffusing her pretty cheeks. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m not here to clean… I’m here as a potential client.”
Now it was my turn to blush. But you couldn’t really blame me—she wore a dark dress with an apron and a tidy maid’s cap. It was an honest mistake.
I rose from my seat, apologizing profusely, and offered her a seat and refreshments. When she was settled, and neither of us was blushing anymore, I returned to my own chair and asked her to tell me her story.
“I’m the head housemaid at Ironwood Park,” she told me. Leaning forward, she added significantly, “I work for the Duke of Trent.”
I’d heard of him, and of the great estate of Ironwood Park. “Go on.”
“I want him,” she murmured.
I blinked, sure I’d missed something. “Who?”
“The Duke of Trent.”
“You are the
housemaid
.”
She nodded.
“He is a
duke
.”
She nodded again.
I shook my head with a sigh. The housemaid and the duke? Nope. This wouldn’t work at all. The chasm between their classes was far too deep to cross.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Osborne,” I began, “but—”
Her dark eyes blinked up at me and she held up her hand to stop my next words. “Wait! I know what you’re going to say. But it’s not as impossible as you might think. You see… I am His Grace’s best friend.”
I gaped at her, for that was almost more difficult to believe than the thought of her being his lover. Dukes simply didn’t “make friends” with their maids.
“We have been friends since childhood. You see, the duke’s family is quite unconventional. The dowager raised me almost as one of her own.”
Now this was getting interesting. I cocked my head. “Do you think he would agree with your assessment?”
“That the House of Trent is unconventional?”
I chuckled. “No. I know the House of Trent has been widely acclaimed as the most scandalous and shocking house in England over the past several decades. I meant, would he agree with your assessment that you are his best friend?”
She folded her hands in her lap, and her dark brows furrowed. “If he was being honest?” she said softly, and I could see the earnest honesty in her gaze. “Yes, he would agree.”
I leaned back in my chair, drumming my fingers on my desk, thinking. How intriguing. Friends to lovers, to…
love
. What a delightful Cinderella story this could make.
My lips curved into a smile, and I flicked open the lid of my laptop and opened a new document. “All right, Miss Osborne. Tell me your story. Start with the story of the first time you laid eyes upon the Duke of Trent…”
And that was how my relationship with the wickedly wonderful family of the House of Trent began. I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with them, and I hope you enjoy Sarah and the duke’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please come visit me at my website,
www.jenniferhaymore.com
, where you can share your thoughts about my books, sign up for some fun freebies and contests, and read more about the characters from THE DUCHESS HUNT and the House of Trent Series.
Sincerely,
Dear Reader,
One of the questions authors get asked most is, “Where do you get your ideas?” I’ve gotten inspiration from everything—music, news stories, locations, weather, simple thoughts or emotions, from events going on in my own life or someone else’s, from dreams, wishes, hopes, fears.
Some ideas take a tremendous amount of work to come together. I don’t work on them continuously but rather sporadically while they percolate in the back of my mind. Some never come together.
And then there are the thank you! stories: ideas that come fairly complete with characters, location, and plot. A HERO TO COME HOME TO was definitely one of those.
For some time, I’d been thinking about doing a series with a military setting (my husband is retired from the Navy, and our son was in the Army), but it wasn’t on my mind at all one summer day when I watched a news segment about military widows. That evening I saw another news segment about a woman who’d thought her dreams had ended when her military husband died in the war, only to find a new love.
By the time I got up the next morning, I knew the seven widows from the Tuesday Night Margarita Club, as well as Dane, the soldier who would restore Carly’s dreams, and Dalton, the rancher who’d lost his wife to war as well. I knew the setting, too: my home state of Oklahoma. Of all the places we lived on active duty, Oklahoma is my favorite. I took time off from the book I was writing and wrote the first few chapters, then sent it off to my agent.
The Department of Defense really nailed it a long time ago when they came up with the slogan that “wife” was the toughest job in the service, though since there are plenty of women on active duty, “spouse” is a better choice. Trying to have a career of your own? Good luck when you move at the whim of the service. Need roots? Better learn that home really is where the heart is. Worry too much? Take a deep breath and learn to let go. Never wanted to be a single parent? Start adapting because deployments are inevitable.
But being a Navy wife was great, too. I met some wonderful people and lived in some wonderful places. I learned a degree of independence and adaptability that I never thought possible pre-Navy. Our Navy life gave me ideas and exposure to new experiences for my writing career. Though I already had a lot of respect for those who serve, I also learned to respect their spouses and children and the sacrifices they make.
One of the best parts of writing romance novels is giving all my characters a happily-ever-after ending, and no one deserves it more than the Tallgrass crew. I hope readers agree.
Oh, one final note: that morning A HERO TO COME HOME TO popped into my head? It was the Fourth of July. Fitting, huh?
Happy reading!
Dear Reader,
The theme of food is woven into almost every chapter of CRAZY LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE. Etta Green is a chef in the big city, but her love of cooking came from her grandmother Hazel. For Etta, the sharing of food represents love, caring, and nurturing—all those things we need and crave our entire lives.
