CAROL MARINELLI - The Baby Of Their Dreams

Praise for Carol Marinelli Praise for Carol Marinelli Excerpt Dear Reader About the Author Title Page 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 EPILOGUE Copyright

‘A compelling, sensual, sexy, emotionally packed, drama-filled read that will leave you begging for more!’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: Redeeming the Playboy

‘Has the cat got your tongue, Cat?’ he asked as she stood in silence.

It would seem that it had, because still she said nothing.

‘Well, I’ll make this very simple for you, then.’ He pushed on. ‘A, B or C?’

Cat could feel her eyelashes blink rapidly as he sped through the multiple choices he had created just for her.

‘Is the baby A—mine, B—not mine, or C—not sure?’

‘Dominic…’ she said, and how strange it felt to be saying his name while looking at him again. How odd it felt that he was here…terribly beautiful, terribly cross. ‘It’s not that simple…’ Cat attempted.

But it was to him.

‘A, B or C, Cat?’

She couldn’t meet his eyes as she delivered the answer. ‘A.’

‘Mine.’

Yours.

His.

Some stories write themselves. Not all. Often I’m tearing my hair out. But I wasn’t with Cat and Dominic. I actually had a plan with this story…my hero and heroine simply refused to stick to it.

I kept reminding them that I was the writer, but they refused to listen and I actually couldn’t type fast enough some days to keep up with them. I simply loved them both, and I wanted to get to their happy-ever-after so that I could see for myself how they worked things out.

I hope you enjoy meeting them as much as I did.

Happy reading!

Carol x

CAROL MARINELLIrecently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation. After chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked: ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Praise for Carol Marinelli Praise for Carol Marinelli Praise for Carol Marinelli Excerpt Dear Reader About the Author Title Page 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 EPILOGUE Copyright ‘A compelling, sensual, sexy, emotionally packed, drama-filled read that will leave you begging for more!’ —Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: Redeeming the Playboy

Excerpt ‘Has the cat got your tongue, Cat?’ he asked as she stood in silence. It would seem that it had, because still she said nothing. ‘Well, I’ll make this very simple for you, then.’ He pushed on. ‘A, B or C?’ Cat could feel her eyelashes blink rapidly as he sped through the multiple choices he had created just for her. ‘Is the baby A—mine, B—not mine, or C—not sure?’ ‘Dominic…’ she said, and how strange it felt to be saying his name while looking at him again. How odd it felt that he was here…terribly beautiful, terribly cross. ‘It’s not that simple…’ Cat attempted. But it was to him. ‘A, B or C, Cat?’ She couldn’t meet his eyes as she delivered the answer. ‘A.’ ‘Mine.’ Yours. His.

Dear Reader Dear Reader Dear Reader About the Author Title Page 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 EPILOGUE Copyright , Some stories write themselves. Not all. Often I’m tearing my hair out. But I wasn’t with Cat and Dominic. I actually had a plan with this story…my hero and heroine simply refused to stick to it. I kept reminding them that I was the writer, but they refused to listen and I actually couldn’t type fast enough some days to keep up with them. I simply loved them both, and I wanted to get to their happy-ever-after so that I could see for myself how they worked things out. I hope you enjoy meeting them as much as I did. Happy reading! Carol x

About the Author CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation. After chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked: ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Title Page The Baby of Their Dreams Carol Marinelli www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

THIS WASN’T HOW July was supposed to be.

‘Hey, Cat!’

Catriona Hayes stood as her friend came out of her office but she was unable to return Gemma’s smile. ‘I’ve just got to go up to Maternity to see a patient and then we can…’ Gemma didn’t finish her sentence. Now she was closer she could see that her friend was barely holding it together—Cat’s green eyes were brimming with tears, her long curly black hair looked as if it had been whipped up by the wind and she was a touch breathless, as if she’d been running. It quickly became clear to Gemma that Cat was not here at the London Royal for their shopping date.

She wasn’t.

Cat had walked out of her antenatal appointment at the hospital where she worked and, like a homing beacon, had taken the underground to the Royal, where Gemma was an obstetrics registrar. She had sat in panicked silence on the tube and, despite being twenty weeks pregnant and wearing a flimsy wraparound dress and heels, she had been one of those people running up the escalator rather than standing and letting it take them to the top.