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A tentative excitement wrestled with her apprehension. One moment, joy held sway. In the next, anxiety had gained the upper hand. An unplanned pregnancy? She gulped. It sounded so irresponsible. Irresponsible people shouldn’t be al owed to raise children.
She hugged her handbag. No. She hadn’t been irresponsible. She and Alex had taken precautions. It was just that sometimes—obviously—accidents happened.
She frowned over that word—
Alex wouldn’t think their baby lovely. He’d definitely think it was an accident—a mistake. She closed her eyes. It was pointless tel ing herself now that she was through with thinking about Alex. They were having a baby. That changed everything.
Praise for Michelle Douglas
“Packed with a smoldering tension
and underlying passion,
THE LONER’S GUARDED HEART by
Michel e Douglas wil leave readers wanting more…. [It] is a keeper that I wil treasure.
If you are a reader that loves tender heartfelt stories then this book is a must buy because it has al these elements and so much more.”
“Michel e Douglas makes an outstanding
debut with HIS CHRISTMAS ANGEL,
a complex, richly emotional story. The
characters are handled especial y wel , as are the many conflicts and relationships.
This one’s a keeper.”
MICHELLE DOUGLAS
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At the age of eight, Michelle Douglas was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, “A writer.” Years later, she read an article about romance writing and thought,
Books by Michelle Douglas:
CHRISTMAS AT CANDLEBARK FARM
THE CATTLEMAN, THE BABY AND ME
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To my grandparents,
Bunny and Beryl Snaddon,
with love and thanks for al those
wonderful summer holidays!
CONTENTS
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PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
PROLOGUE
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THE intercom on Kit’s desk buzzed and instantly her heart hammered up into her throat.
‘If you’d come through now, Ms Mercer.’
Kit’s toes curled at the rich black-coffee voice.
Her heart lurched back into her chest to thump out a loud tattoo. When she leant forward to depress a button, her finger was surprisingly steady given what was happening to the rest of her body. ‘Certainly, sir.’
Her finger might be steady but the huskiness of her voice was more Marilyn Monroe than sensible, strait-laced secretary. It should appal her, belying as it did her attempts to match her employer’s professional formality, but it didn’t. His formality made her lips twitch.
