by Dana Wayne
The room went silent for several heartbeats as they gazed at the brightly lit tree.
Max came to stand beside her, one arm around her waist, a sprig of mistletoe in his other hand, which he held over her head.
“I believe I’m due a kiss now.”
“I believe you are.”
His lips touched hers, and he whispered softly. “Marry me, Sky.”
She hesitated, unsure she heard him right. “What?”
He stepped back and reached into his pocket. He opened the velvet box and presented it to her. “I love you, Skylar Ward. Marry me and put me out of my misery.”
“Oh, Max.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Maddie jumped up and down, hands clapping furiously. “Finally, Daddy. I didn’t think you’d ever do it!”
Max took the beautiful solitaire from the box and slipped it on her trembling finger, then kissed her again.
“There’s one more thing,” said Max. He turned to Maddie and knelt in front of her. “This is for you.” He pulled another box from his pocket and opened it. Inside rested a tiny heart shaped topaz ring. “It’s your birthstone. I was going to give it to you for your birthday but decided to do it now.”
Maddie squealed with delight as Max put the ring on her finger.
Sky had no idea how he got the size right for it was a perfect fit. Just like hers.
“Look Mama! Daddy gave me a ring, too!”
Max stood up and whispered to Sky. “I told her she could call me whatever she wanted when I asked her permission to marry you.”
“You asked her permission?”
“Of course.”
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Maybe you could tell me again. I kinda like hearing it.”
John interrupted and pulled Sky into a bear hug. “Congratulations, Miss Sky. You have yourself a good man there.” He clamped Max on the shoulder. “Congratulations, son,” he said, “I couldn’t be happier.” He clapped his hands together. “When’s the big day?”
Sky looked at Max. “Well, gee, we just now got engaged.”
“I was thinking,” said Max. “I’d like to get married on New Year’s Day…to symbolize our new life together.”
“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” said Sky. “New Year’s Day it is.”
John reached for his hot chocolate. “Too bad we don’t have any champagne to toast with, but this is just as good.”
Everyone grabbed their cups and clinked them together as John said, “Congratulations to a beautiful family.”
“I almost forgot,” said Maddie. “Just a minute.” She ran down the hall to her room, returning with a sheet of paper.
She stood in front of John, the paper behind her. “Mr. John, can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can, Miss Maddie. Ask me anything you want.”
“You’re not married, right?”
“Unfortunately, that is true.”
“And you don’t have any kids.”
“Also true.”
She nodded as though confirming what she already knew. “Well, I found out the other day that Bobby Franklin is adopted, so I asked Max, I mean, Daddy, how that works.”
John’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Okay…”
Sky looked at Max, who simply smiled and nodded at Maddie.
“And he said people can adopt other people to be their family whether they are really family or not. And it’s all legal and stuff.”
John looked at Max and then Sky, frowning slightly. “Yeah, that’s basically how it works.”
“Well, since you don’t have any kids, and I don’t have a grandpa, I’d like to adopt you.” With a flourish, she handed him the sheet of paper filled with hearts and Maddie’s precise print. “Max helped me with it.” Before he had a chance to read it, she pulled it back and said, “Here, I’ll read it to you.” She stood up straight and tall. “I, Madeline Adele Ward Logan, hereby adopt you, Johnathan Woodrow Andrews, to be my grandfather for now and evermore. Signed, Maddie Logan.”
Sky’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the exchange between her daughter and the gentle giant standing in front of the Christmas tree, his face beet red, his eyes glistening in the twinkling lights.
Maddie handed the sheet back to John, her smile fading as the silence lingered, and Sky worried he might be offended or refuse.
Then John ducked his head, swiped his face with both hands and got down on his knees in front of her daughter, smiling from ear to ear as he clutched the paper to his heart. “My dear, sweet child, it would give me the utmost pleasure to be your adopted grandfather.” His voice broke, and he swiped his face again. “I’ve always wanted to be a grandfather.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Isn’t it wonderful, Grandpa? We both got our Christmas wish! And it’s not even Christmas yet!”
“Yes, it is, child,” said John as he hugged her to him. “Yes, it is.”
Maddie pulled away and looked at Max. “Come on, Daddy. Grandpa can help us string popcorn to put on the tree.”
Sky didn’t bother to stem the tears flowing down her cheeks as she watched Maddie with her adopted grandfather and soon-to-be father.
And that’s when she made a startling discovery.
Blood doesn’t make a family.
Love does.
The End
Dear Readers:
When my characters cook a particular dish in my books, I like to include the recipes since the recipes they prepare are my own, so here are Hot Stuff and Chicken Spaghetti. Enjoy!
Hot Stuff
(Tip: Wear gloves when peeling onions and chopping peppers! If you don’t want it all that hot, you can seed some or all of the peppers first)
About 40 jalapeno peppers, stems removed
4# yellow onions, peeled
2 cups sugar
3 Tbsp Salt
3 cups distilled white vinegar
Process onions and peppers in food processor until well minced. Put sugar, salt and vinegar in large pot and bring to a boil. Add pepper mixture and bring back to boil, cooking 3-4 minutes. Fill hot, sterile jars with mixture and seal. Makes about 6 pints.
Chicken Spaghetti
12 oz pack spaghetti (I prefer Angel hair pasta but spaghetti is fine)
4-5 chicken breasts (or any pre-cooked chicken like Tyson’s Southwest grilled fajita chicken)
1 can Rotel Tomatoes with green chilies
1 can cream of chicken soup—undiluted
1 can cream of mushroom soup—undiluted
1 onion chopped
1 bell pepper chopped (optional)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 bag shredded Velveeta cheese (2 cups)
Italian Seasoning
Salt and pepper
Butter and olive oil
1 Qt of Chicken broth
If using uncooked chicken: Cut chicken into bite sized pieces. In large pan, put about 2 TBSP butter and 2 TBSP of olive oil. Add chicken and cook till almost done. Add onions, garlic and bell peppers and sauté about 10 minutes over medium heat. Add soups and cheese, stir well and set aside. In large pot, bring broth to a boil and add Italian seasoning to taste. Add spaghetti and cook till desired doneness. Drain. Add to chicken/soup mixture (add a little of the broth if mixture too thick) Pour into a 13x9x2 pan sprayed with non-stick cooking spray. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes.
If using precooked chicken: In large pot, put about 2 TBSP butter and 2 TBSP of olive oil. Add chicken, onions, garlic and bell peppers and sauté about 10 minutes over medium heat. Add soups and cheese, set aside. Cook spaghetti in broth seasoned with Italian seasoning to desired doneness then add to soup/chicken mixture. If too thick, add a little of the broth before putting in pan.
Multi-awarding winning author Dana Wayne is a sixth generation Texan and resides in the Piney Woods with her husband, a Calico cat, three children and four grandchildren.<
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She routinely speaks at book clubs, writers groups and other organizations and is frequent guest on numerous writing blogs.
A die-hard romantic, her stories are filled with strong women, second changes, and happily ever after.
“I’ve always wanted to write and knew that one day, I would. I retired in late 2013 and published my first book, a contemporary romance, the summer of 2016. I was over the moon when it was awarded first place by Texas Association of Authors, and I never looked back. All of my books have been nominated for and/or received various awards. To have my work validated in such a manner is very gratifying and humbling. Because I am all about the romance, my stories are heartwarming, have a splash of suspense and humor, and are a little steamy. I believe romance is more about emotion than sex, and the journey is more important than the destination.”
Affiliations include Romance Writers of America, Texas Association of Authors, Writers League of Texas, East Texas Writers Guild, Northeast Texas Writers Organization, and East Texas Writers Association.
Want to be in the know about new releases and get a sneak peek at teasers and contests? Join my newsletter team www.danawayne.com/email.
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Secrets Of The Heart
Mail Order Groom
Whispers On The Wind
Chasing Hope
Preview of Whispers On the Wind
You let him kill her.
The angry female voice in the pre-dawn hour jolted Cooper Delaney from a restless sleep.
Adrenalin pumping, he rolled to the right and automatically grabbed his pistol from the nightstand, fully expecting to see a stranger beside the bed.
Nothing but moonlit shadows. He swiveled his head to the left.
The room was empty.
He blinked and drew in a deep breath, trying to dispel remnants of the dream making sleep all but impossible for over a month. Always the same dream; a shadowy figure begging Coop to find her. That was it…find me, please. Two weeks ago, the voice changed and insisted Coop had to stop him.
Stop who? From what?
Tonight, the dream exploded into a full-blown nightmare.
He put the gun back on the table and lay down, right arm over his eyes. “Shit,” he whispered as the vision replayed through his mind. Powerful hands gripped her throat, the eerie silence punctuated by ragged gasps as she struggled for air. Blood trickled from her nose and the corner of her mouth. Dark hair wedged into a jagged cut across her forehead. Terror-filled eyes stared at the figure bent over her.
All the while, the voice reproached…you didn’t stop him.
At forty-three, Coop considered himself a straight-forward, no nonsense lawman, well known and respected as the Sheriff of Baker County, Texas. He looked at the facts, the evidence, and made logical, rational decisions. And yet, the dream was so real, he smelled the metallic odor of blood, felt the dampness of the earth around her.
“Dammit.” He lowered his arm and punched the bed. I’m losing my fricking mind.
It was bad enough when the voice invaded his sleep, but two days ago, he heard it at the kitchen table where he sat eating breakfast. Wide awake. This time, she warned he – whoever he was – would kill again.
He tossed the sheet aside and sat on the edge of the bed. Heart pounding, his breath hissed as he gulped in air. Elbows on his knees, he cradled his head in his hands. “Just a dream,” he murmured, “a bad dream.”
He stumbled to the window and shoved it open with an angry thrust, gasping when the rush of cool night air caused gooseflesh to prickle his sweat-coated body. “A dream,” he whispered, willing himself to believe. “Nobody died.” He pulled down the sash and pressed his forehead against the glass pane. “Nobody died.”
When his racing heart finally slowed, he pushed away and headed for the bathroom, stopping at the foot of the bed as he tried to remember if Miss Eva had guests tonight. A curse escaped parched lips as he grabbed his jeans from a chair. Why in the world did she want to go into the B&B business anyway?
Even as the thought flitted through his mind, he knew the answer. She decided he needed a wife and used the lovely Antebellum home to lure prospects. Hence, the majority of her guests were single women looking for a good time, or to change their marital status. He lost track of the propositions, both subtle and otherwise, thrown his way in the last six months. When had women become so forward?
He opened the door and padded on bare feet to the bathroom he shared with his son, Jason, when he was home from college. Guests used the one across the hall.
Since sleep was out of the question at this point, he threw on a shirt and headed downstairs for coffee.
Light showing under the kitchen door stopped him cold. “Crap. Company.”
Today is the first step of starting over.
Samantha Fowler gazed out the kitchen window, transfixed by the beauty of daybreak, convinced the magnificent sunrise was a good omen. The sky, once dark and gloomy, now showcased varying degrees of orange, blue and purple. Giant oaks, pecans and pine trees, previously hidden by darkness, sprang to life, as did the beautifully landscaped yard of the bed and breakfast she would call home for the next two weeks.
Her best friend, Barbara Walker, who grew up in Bakersville, suggested Pecan Grove B&B for her much-needed sabbatical to contemplate what to do with her life. A quick perusal of their website convinced her to give it a try. Located two hours from Dallas in rural Baker County, it was a beautiful antebellum-style home re-constructed after a fire in 1920.
Everything from the graceful columns on the front, to the upper-level porch running across the back, conveyed old-world-south. The interior was painstakingly decorated and furnished like its predecessor built in 1880. Modern upgrades included air conditioning and wi-fi, but the majority of the house retained the serene elegance and charm of the time.
“Oh, Jack, you should see this.” A soft sigh of wonder arose as she took in the panoramic view. “No way could I capture this with a camera.”
Her companion, a huge crossbreed dog of indeterminate lineage laying at her feet, merely grunted.
She sipped her coffee, still rooted by the window. “Don’t be such a grouch. We’ve been up a lot earlier than this.”
The mutt didn’t bother to grunt this time.
“Ms. Benton said breakfast will be ready by the time we get back.”
A soft groan followed by the swish of his tail on the worn linoleum floor acknowledged he heard what she said.
“No exercise, no food. Time to rock and roll, old man.”
Suddenly, Jack growled low in his throat and stood in front of her, attention fixed on the kitchen door as it slowly opened.
A man, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, sporting a severe case of bed head, strolled into the kitchen.
Every cell in Sam’s body began a happy dance.
As a doctor, she was trained to quickly assess every situation and did so now. He towered over her, at least six-three or four, dark, curly hair in need of a trim touched the collar of a half-buttoned chambray shirt, while streaks of gray edged around the temples. Ruggedly handsome, his dark beard stubble projected an explicit manly aura.
Storm-cloud eyes, sharp and focused, assessed her as well.
Feminine radar pinged. Hard.
He liked what he saw.
Her fingers tightened around the cup. She attempted to speak but nothing came out. She settled for what she hoped was a smile of welcome but feared it may look more like a grimace.
Her protector didn’t appear happy at the intrusion and bared his teeth in a menacing snarl.
She fumbled for the dog’s collar. “Down, Jack.”
Man and woman stared at each other in silence as seconds ticked by.
She reminded herself to breathe.
He cleared his throat as he ambled over to the pot on the counter. “I didn’t
expect company.” He glanced her way, then focused on pouring his coffee. “Guests usually aren’t up this early.”
His voice, deep and sensual, coupled with that just-out-of-bed look sent ripples of awareness through her.
Oh my God. Looks like sin and sounds like Sam Elliott. “Oh, yes, well, we arrived late last night.”
He looked around the kitchen. “We?”
His mouth moved so she knew he must have spoken, but it took a moment for her brain to stop fixating on the mat of chest hair peeking out the top of his shirt. She blinked and gestured toward the dog. “Me. And Jack. My dog. We arrived last night.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog like him. What is he?”
An irresistibly devastating grin accompanied the question, and her stomach lurched.
She gulped in air. “Vet said maybe a cross between Mastiff and Rottweiler but even he was stumped.”
The man cleared his throat – again – and looked everywhere but at her.
Warning bells sounded.
Holy crap. He feels it, too.
“Unusual coloring,” the man offered at last. “Like someone splattered black and brown paint all over him.”
She patted Jack’s head. “Yeah. He’s so ugly he’s cute.” Really? That’s the best you can do?
Jack, apparently satisfied the visitor was not a danger to his mistress, lay back down with a heavy sigh.
Silence filled the room.
She set her cup on the counter. “Um, I’m Samantha Fowler. Are you a guest here, too?”
When his laser-sharp gaze fixed on her mouth, a swarm of butterflies invaded her stomach.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Cooper – Coop – Delaney. Guess you can say I’m a permanent guest.”
Awareness bounced off the walls like a rubber ball, charging the room with explosive energy.