Marie Ferrarella - A Dad At Last

Dear Diary,

Where to begin? So much has happened and my heart is so full. I’m finally allowed to proclaim to the world at large that Connor is my son, my own firstborn. Having him here with me is like an incredible Christmas gift to be unwrapped each and every morning!

I don’t blame my father for what he did. An unmarried young girl with a baby was doomed to a terrible life back then. I’m so glad times have changed. And so very glad to discover that not only have I regained a son, but I’ve gained a grandson as well. My heart is filled to bursting! I even forgive the woman who perpetrated the hoax that would have only further separated me from Connor. After all, it didn’t work, thank God.

It’s been a very, very good year. It didn’t seem so at the beginning, but it turned out far better than I could have ever dreamed. Which leads me to speculate about the year to come. Who knows what happiness is waiting just around the corner?

Dear Reader,

There’s never a dull moment at Maitland Maternity! This unique and now world-renowned clinic was founded twenty-five years ago by Megan Maitland, widow of William Maitland, of the prominent Austin, Texas, Maitlands. Megan is also matriarch of an impressive family of seven children, many of whom are active participants in the everyday miracles that bring children into the world.

When our series began, the family was stunned by the unexpected arrival of an unidentified baby at the clinic—unidentified, except for the claim that the child is a Maitland. Who are the parents of this child? Is the claim legitimate? Will the media’s tenacious grip on this news damage the clinic’s reputation? Suddenly, rumors and counterclaims abound. Women claiming to be the child’s mother materialize out of the woodwork! How will Megan get at the truth? And how will the media circus affect the lives and loves of the Maitland children—Abby, the head of gynecology, Ellie, the hospital administrator, her twin sister, Beth, who runs the day care center, Mitchell, the fertility specialist, R.J., the vice president of operations—even Anna, who has nothing to do with the clinic, and Jake, the black sheep of the family?

We’re thrilled to bring you the long-awaited culmination to Connor Maitland’s story and to offer the solution to the mystery of the Maitland baby in A Dad at Last!

Marsha Zinberg,

Senior Editor and Editorial Co-ordinator, Special Projects

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Prolific romance author Marie Ferrarella claims, “I was born writing, which must have made the delivery especially difficult for my mother!” Born in West Germany of Polish parents, she came to America when she was four years of age. For an entire year, Marie and her family explored the eastern half of the country before finally settling in New York. It was there, at the age of fourteen, that she met the man she would marry, her first true love, Charles Ferrarella.

During her days at Queens College, acting started to lose its glamour as Marie spent more and more time writing. After receiving her English degree, specializing in Shakespearean comedy, Marie and her family moved to Southern California, where she still resides today. After an interminable seven weeks apart, Charles decided he couldn’t live without her, and came out to California to marry his childhood sweetheart. Marie, who has written over one hundred novels, wrote both the introduction and conclusion to Connor Maitland’s miraculous reunion with his family and was delighted to participate in the Maitland family saga. She keeps her fingers crossed that her many fans enjoy reading her books as much as she enjoys writing them.

To Marsha Zinberg,

with thanks for a great time.

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

EPILOGUE

THE MOONLIGHT surrounded Connor O’Hara like a cold shroud as he picked his way slowly beside the isolated train tracks.

Funny how things turned out sometimes.

He’d only just found out he had a son, and now that little boy’s life depended on a group of men he hadn’t met until a few months ago. Men who were at this moment laying their own lives on the line, shielded only by the inky cloak of night and their bravery as they crept toward the abandoned sugar factory ahead, where he’d been told to meet Chase’s kidnappers.

It was asking a lot, yet they had volunteered without a single word from him.

The door to the sugar factory opened. A small ball of light, thanks to a lantern, illuminated the players for Connor.

Janelle Davis, the epitome of confidence, sauntered ahead of the man who accompanied her. In her arms was Connor’s son.

Even in the poor light, Connor could see her eyes glinting as they washed over him. She fairly glowed with triumph.

The humor that twisted her mouth was cynical. “So you came. I knew you would.” She glanced at the child in her arms. “For the brat.”

Connor had never felt hatred like this before. It clogged his throat like thick bile, almost choking him. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman who’d stolen his child and done heaven only knew what else. She was standing beside the tall, rugged-looking man who’d been impersonating Connor for the past few months. Petey gave no indication of being the puppet she had, with her wiles, forced him to be.

Hatred mingled with fear, fear for the child she held in her arms, the child Connor knew she could, without compunction, kill in an instant. Destroying Chase as if he were nothing more than a rag doll, a prop to further her goal.

He stalled for time. Positions had to be reached. A single word emerged from his lips as his eyes nailed her where she stood.

“Why?”

Janelle shrugged a slim, careless shoulder. Her eyes told him she was enjoying this a great deal. She liked having the upper hand.

“Not all of us are born rich.” The smile turned cruel. “A girl’s gotta look out for herself.”

Her hold on the baby tightened, and her eyes slid to the suitcase Connor held in his hand as Chase whimpered. “You have the money?”

He raised the case. “Right here.”

Her sharp eyes looked around. There were no cars in the area save the one Connor had parked in the distance. Just the way she’d told him. “And you’re alone.”

His expression never changed. Neither did the loathing he knew was in his eyes. “Those were your instructions.”

She laughed shortly, toying with him, ignoring her husband Petey’s growing agitation. “Too bad you couldn’t have stayed back at your ranch, Connor. Would have saved us both a lot of time and grief.” The smile vanished. She was all business. “Take the suitcase, Petey.”

But Connor held the case back as Petey reached for it. “Give me my son.”