Rebecca Winters - One Winter's Sunset

The Christmas Baby Surprise The Christmas Baby Surprise Shirley Jump

Dedication To my husband, who makes everything better with his smile.

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

Marry Me under the Mistletoe

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Snowflakes and Silver Linings

Dedication

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

The Christmas Baby Surprise

Shirley Jump

The secret to mend their marriage

With an aching heart, Emily Watson knows her marriage is in trouble. She wants it to work more than anything in the world, so walking away from Cole is the hardest thing she’ll ever do. But one last night together is set to change her life and her marriage forever.…

Needing time to think, Emily returns to the one place that always feels like home: the Gingerbread Inn. It is the perfect setting to work out what to do with her little secret.

And when Cole finds her, and her growing bump, he realizes that this Christmas, some things are worth fighting for.…

To my husband, who makes everything better

with his smile.

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN EMILY WATSON ran away from her life, she did it in style. A pair of dark brown skinny jeans, four-inch heels, a shimmery cream shell, all topped with an oversize green cardigan belted at the waist. The clothes were designer, the shoes custom-made, but Emily didn’t care. The labels had never mattered to her, and a part of her missed the days when she bought jeans at the Goodwill and topped them with a ratty T that had been washed until the cotton became soft as silk.

She threw a couple suitcases into the trunk of the Volvo she’d bought, even though Cole had hated the big boxy car, then drove away from the house that no longer felt like home. Four hours later, she wound through the hilly roads of Brownsville, Massachusetts, then past glimmering Barrow Lake, until the big leafy trees parted, exposing the long gravel road that led up to the Gingerbread Inn. A small hand-painted sign with a wooden arrow pointing up the hill announced the inn, the familiar marker faded by time.

She rolled down the window and took in a deep breath of fresh, sweet fall air, along with the sense of being home. At peace. Finally.

The tires of Emily’s Volvo crunched over the gravel, sending pebbles scattering to the side. Anticipation filled her as she made her way up the road. Finally, she was back here. In the one place where life made sense, the one place where she had found peace, and most of all, the one place where she hoped to find herself again.

She put a hand over her belly. Too soon to feel anything more than an almost-imperceptible curve beneath her pants but Emily had taken to talking to Sweet Pea, as she’d dubbed the baby inside her. “Almost there, Sweet Pea.”

And there, Emily vowed, she would start a new life. She’d left almost all remnants of her old life behind, to come here and get some time to think, plan, strategize her next move. Because no matter what, Emily Watson refused to return to the status quo. Or return to Cole, the man she had once loved. The man she had married—and now was ready to divorce.

Once upon a time was a long, long time ago. The years spent in a lonely, unfulfilling marriage had taught Emily that fairy tales should be reserved for the foolish.

The two-story Georgian-style inn came into view. Shaded at first by the late-fall sun above, it looked sad, lonely, dark. As she drew closer, Emily slowed the car. The anticipation built, then as her eyes adjusted and she saw the full view of the inn, her anticipation imploded into disappointment. What had happened?

The once white gingerbread trim had faded to a dingy gray. Paint peeled off the wooden clapboards, and the wraparound front porch sagged in the center, as if the inn was frowning. Weeds sprang up among the stones of the walkway, and the landscaping that had once been so beautiful it had been featured in a local gardening magazine had become overgrown and tired.

But that wasn’t what hit Emily the hardest. It was the red-and-white For Sale sign tacked to the building, hanging a little askew, as if even the Realtor had lost hope.

She parked, got out, but didn’t take a step. What was she supposed to do now? She’d counted on staying at the Gingerbread Inn, not just for an escape, but as a way to find closure and connection. A long time ago, she had formed her best memories here, with Andrea and Casey and Melissa—

Oh, Melissa.

Just the thought of her late friend made Emily’s heart ache. But Melissa had made it clear she wouldn’t want that. Get on with your life and your dreams, she’d written in her final letter. Don’t let anything hold you back.

Don’t let anything—even a For Sale sign?

Emily’s hand went to her belly again. She had to do this. Not just for herself, but for Pea, too. Sure, she could afford to stay at a hotel, even jet to Italy and spend a week in a villa, but that wasn’t where Emily’s heart lay. It wasn’t the place she needed so desperately to be right now.

Emily glanced down at her hand, at the ornate diamond ring in its platinum setting. She slid it off and tucked it in her pocket. It was time to accept that she was moving on.

Away from Cole.

The front door of the inn opened, and a petite gray-haired woman came out onto the porch. She had on a deep orange apron with yellow edging, a pale pink T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts and sneakers that had seen better days. Emily’s face broke into a grin, and she crossed the drive in fast strides. “Carol!”

The inn owner’s face lit with recognition and she came hurrying down the steps. “Emily Watson? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it’s you!”

The two women embraced, a long hearty hug, the kind that came from years of friendship. Emily had spent so much time at the inn in the summers of her childhood that Carol seemed more like an aunt or an extra grandmother than the owner. She still carried the scent of home-baked bread, as if everything good about the world surrounded Carol Parsons.

A wet nose nudged at Emily’s jeans. She grinned and looked down at a golden shaggy dog that had a little Golden in her, a little something else. “Is this Wesley’s daughter?”

Carol nodded. “Meet Harper. She’s a bit of a mutt, but she’s lovable and goofy and all the things you want in a dog.”

Emily bent down and ruffled Harper’s ears. “You’ve got a heck of a reputation to live up to, missy.”

The dog wagged her tail, lolled her tongue and looked about as unworried as a retriever mix could look. Then she turned and bounded off into the woods, barking an invitation to play at a squirrel.

Emily rose. “I’m so glad you’re still here, Carol. When I saw the For Sale sign, I was afraid...”