Christie Ridgway - From This Day Forward

“Are you okay?” Annie asked, once the task was completed.

“I was just wondering about the, uh, this sudden need to divest yourself of, uh…” Griffin stuttered.

She laughed, a delicious, free little giggle that would have reassured him if he’d ever imagined that quiet Annie Smith, the housekeeper’s daughter, could make such a sound.

“Oh, Griffin,” she said. “I’m just tired of waiting.”

Waiting for what?

“From now on, my life is never going to be the same!”

Cold prickles gathered force at the nape of Griffin’s neck. Though he’d never considered himself a superstitious man, he suddenly had the terrible feeling his life would never be the same, either….

Dear Reader,

When Patricia Kay was a child, she could be found hiding somewhere…reading. “Ever since I was old enough to realize someone wrote books and they didn’t just magically appear, I dreamed of writing,” she says. And this month Special Edition is proud to publish Patricia’s twenty-second novel, The Millionaire and the Mom, the next of the STOCKWELLS OF TEXAS series. She admits it isn’t always easy keeping her ideas and her writing fresh. What helps, she says, is “nonwriting” activities, such as singing in her church choir, swimming, taking long walks, going to the movies and traveling. “Staying well-rounded keeps me excited about writing,” she says.

We have plenty of other fresh stories to offer this month. After finding herself in the midst of an armed robbery with a gun to her back in Christie Ridgway’s From This Day Forward, Annie Smith vows to chase her dreams…. In the next of A RANCHING FAMILY series by Victoria Pade, Kate McDermot returns from Vegas unexpectedly married and with a Cowboy’s Baby in her belly! And Sally Tyler Hayes’s Magic in a Jelly Jar is what young Luke Morgan hopes for by saving his teeth in a jelly jar…because he thinks that his dentist is the tooth fairy and can grant him one wish: a mother! Also, don’t miss the surprising twists in Her Mysterious Houseguest by Jane Toombs, and an exciting forbidden love story with Barbara Benedict’s Solution: Marriage.

At Special Edition, fresh, innovative books are our passion. We hope you enjoy them all.

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my big brother, Matt.

Maybe it’s not as tasty as my chocolate-chip cookies,

but it is another way of letting you know I love you.

considered herself a writer from that first haiku (about the sound of footsteps in the rain) she wrote in second grade. She became a romance writer in the sixth grade, when she penned a series of love stories starring herself and the teen idol of the time. She turned published author after marrying the love of her life and having two sons. Now she lives in Southern California, where she writes, wifes and mothers. She prefers not to say which one comes first, but they are all vitally important to her. When she isn’t concocting a new story or concocting some way to sneak vegetables into fish sticks and apple-sauce, she makes time to volunteer in her boys’ school. Finally, for her sanity, she always finds a way to curl up with a good book.

You may contact her at P.O. Box 3803, La Mesa, CA 91944.

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

Annie Smith shuffled a half step forward in the long Friday-morning teller-line at her branch of the Strawberry Bay Savings and Loan. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a harried-looking woman in a silk blouse and business suit speed around the corner from the entry doors, then skid to a halt just millimeters before her nose smacked into Annie’s half-turned shoulder.

Annie had been the last in line. Now the harried woman was, and she didn’t look very happy about it.

“Unh,” the woman grunted in annoyance. “I just hate waiting, don’t you?”

Annie quickly murmured a polite noise and spun to face completely forward, unwilling to confess her one guilty secret.

She didn’t mind waiting.

Of course, not if it was a line for the ladies’ room or not if she was on her way somewhere important. But as the owner of a small, but growing catering business, and as a twenty-four-year-old—almost twenty-five—single woman, she was a ship under her own steam and her own schedule.

And the fact was, this ship was pretty content to wait her turn. Annie liked watching the other people in line, dreaming up their occupations and lifestyles, amusing herself with their “Candid Camera”-worthy reactions to the frustrations of using the bank-supplied pens.

Annie tightened her hold on her handful of checks ready for depositing. She’d signed her name and written her account number with her own trusty Bic.

One customer concluded her business, and the line shuffled forward again. Annie shuffled, too, the soles of her discount-store sneakers squeaking against the parquet linoleum. As the satisfied customer strode toward her, Annie noted the silver-dollar-sized hearts dangling from the woman’s ears, and her red blouse, pants and high heels. Against the blouse, two more hearts, pink, nodded and bobbed, attached by little springs to a big pin that screamed Happy Valentine’s Day! in silver glitter.

Wow. And the fourteenth was still a couple of days away.

Bemused, Annie couldn’t help but turn her head as the holiday-happy lady passed her. Which is why she didn’t miss seeing the woman don the final touch to her ensemble—a red fuzzy headband that sported two upstanding and overstuffed furry hearts.

It was also why Annie was the first to notice Ronald Reagan enter the bank.

She blinked. She supposed he could be in Strawberry Bay, this was California after all, but shouldn’t he be accompanied by the Secret Service? And shouldn’t they be the ones carrying the gun?

The gun.

Just as that started sinking in, the man yelled from behind his mask—the fact that he was wearing one was just starting to sink into Annie’s consciousness, too. “Everybody get down!” he shouted. His big, black, scary-looking weapon glinted dully in the light.

Annie discovered she couldn’t move. Some people in the line immediately dropped and others shrieked, but Annie was frozen and her voice was, too. Several around her appeared to be just as paralyzed as she.

Then Ronnie aimed the gun at the ceiling and fired.

Annie hit the floor before the first chunks of acoustic ceiling did.

Her cheek pressed against cold linoleum smelling strongly of pine cleaner, Annie tried to make herself as flat as possible. That’s what people always did on police shows and “Gunsmoke” reruns. She didn’t know exactly why, though, because as the gunman moved her way, she realized that, flat or not, she made an easy target. Her fingernails clawed at the floor, instinctively trying to dig beneath it for cover.