thought the end of the world had come. Now she knew one of these puppies was definitely hers. She’d saved Phoebe. The little girl was growing in stature while they watched. ‘Why can’t everyone have one?’
‘Lizzie and I want one,’ Harry said. And then he looked down at the squirming mass of brand-new puppies. ‘Or maybe two.’
‘And no one gets a single puppy until after the wedding,’ Lizzie decreed.
The wedding?
Harry looked tenderly at his love, and the look on his face said he knew exactly what wedding she was talking about. Whose wedding. His arm tightened around her and all the joy of the morning was in his face. ‘Why not?’ he asked tenderly. ‘Why not, my love?’
‘Because I don’t want bridesmaids,’ she managed. ‘Instead of bridesmaids, I want brides-pups. Eight brides- pups with Phoebe as matron of honour.’
Marion Lennox
