COMING
FRIDAY
7
PM PST.
SUSAN MEIER
AUTHOR OF:
A
pregnant heiress, a bachelor billionaire…
…an unlikely family?
In this Manhattan Babies story, Trent Sigmund’s discovered Sabrina McCallan’s shocking secret: she’s pregnant! As his best friend’s sister, Trent’s compelled to help her. But offering Sabrina his private jet to track down her errant ex wasn’t supposed to become a whirlwind trip of Europe… And it certainly wasn’t supposed to awaken an attraction that makes him long to take this unexpected chance and build it into the perfect family!
…an unlikely family?
In this Manhattan Babies story, Trent Sigmund’s discovered Sabrina McCallan’s shocking secret: she’s pregnant! As his best friend’s sister, Trent’s compelled to help her. But offering Sabrina his private jet to track down her errant ex wasn’t supposed to become a whirlwind trip of Europe… And it certainly wasn’t supposed to awaken an attraction that makes him long to take this unexpected chance and build it into the perfect family!
Amazon:
Barnes and Noble:
CHAPTER ONE
Anyone
who looked at Sabrina McCallan
usually did a double-take. With her blond hair, blue eyes and nicely kept
curves, she was physically perfect. Add impeccable manners, poise, charm, grace, and intelligence, and Trent “Ziggy” Sigmund thought the woman was class in
Chanel.
Until
today.
As
a bridesmaid in her brother Seth’s August wedding, standing by a church pew,
waiting for her turn in the after-ceremony pictures, she seemed frazzled.
Nervous. Plus, a strand of yellow hair had sprung from her up-do and she hadn’t
tucked it back in.
Which
was why Trent couldn’t stop staring at her.
Sabrina’s
partner in Seth and Harper’s wedding, Trent was supposed to be aware of where
Sabrina was when their names were called for the pictures, and her fidgeting
confused him. He wasn’t staring because he was attracted to her. She wasn’t his
type. She was perfect, flawless, and he liked things a little messy. Not a
disaster. But wild hair on a pillow, sleepy eyes, torn jeans, and scruffy tennis
shoes were more his speed.
Still,
something was up with Sabrina and he had responsibilities as her partner in the
wedding, more as her brother’s best friend. He and Seth had lived together in a
run-down apartment, both earning their living as waiters, as they finished
school. They’d shared spare change and food knew the bus and subway schedules
like the backs of their hands and played wingman when one or the other spotted
a girl they liked. Though Seth had dropped out of his family for a time, the
second McCallan son still knew “people” and that had helped Trent get his first
job, which had resulted in his learning the right things at the right time to
develop his genius, strike out on his own and become rich.
In
some ways they were like brothers. In other ways, they were closer than brothers.
Trent would be a fool if he didn’t realize he owed Seth. And Trent wasn’t a
fool.
Which
was why Seth’s little sister’s fidgeting was like a red alert alarm. The groom,
Seth was too busy to notice. Even Jake, Seth and Sabrina’s older brother, was
busy with his toddler and pregnant wife. Only Trent had time to see the
McCallan daughter was off her game today.
When
his name and Sabrina’s were called for their picture, Trent sauntered across
the church aisle to stunning Sabrina. Her pale purple dress highlighted her
blue eyes. Her yellow hair would have been perfection, except for that one
wayward strand, which to Trent’s way of thinking, actually made her more
beautiful.
He
offered his arm. The way they grew up might have been worlds apart, but twelve
years of knowing a McCallan had taught him how a gentleman behaved.
“Ready
for pics?”
Sabrina
smiled politely as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Yes.”
He
nearly told her she looked elegant and feminine in the simple lilac dress Harper
had chosen for her bridesmaids, but he figured she’d probably heard that thirty
or forty times already today.
They
walked to the space the photographer pointed out, stood by Seth and Harper and
smiled as the middle-aged man snapped a picture. He took at least a hundred
more shots with Seth and Harper and the members of their bridal party, Harper’s
parents, Seth’s mom, Maureen, Seth’s brother Jake and his wife, Avery, and then
a few final shots of everyone—a big mob of men in tuxes, women in gowns and
little girls in dresses with so much tulle and ruffles, Trent wondered how they
could stay upright.
Seth’s
mom and Harper’s parents said their goodbyes. Harper’s parents were taking
Harper’s daughter, Crystal, home for a nap before the reception. Seth’s mom was
going home for a nap, herself. Jake and Avery’s nanny hustled Abby to their
Upper East Side condo for some quiet time. The rest of the wedding party took
limos to Seth and Harper’s penthouse for a few pre-reception drinks.
Thanking
everyone for joining him in the celebration of the happiest day of his life,
Seth popped the cork on the first bottle of champagne, then servants scurried
over to open more champagne, fill glasses and distribute them for a toast.
Leaning
against the bar, Trent kept his attention on Sabrina. She took a glass of
champagne, happily raised it when best man Jake made a toast, then pretended to
sip.
Trent’s
eyes narrowed. She had absolutely pretended to sip. Three toasts later,
she still had a full glass of champagne.
The
bride and groom mingled through the small crowd. Waiters brought out trays of hor's d’ oeuvres.
Seth told stories of his misspent youth, and with Harper by his side, he spoke
fondly of her deceased husband, Clark, the third roommate in the trio of Clark,
Seth and Ziggy, who now preferred to be called Trent. Trent joined him in one
final story. Then the conversation drifted to more current topics, and before
Trent knew it, it was time to go to the Waldorf Astoria for the reception.
He
had to hunt for Sabrina. When he found her, she looked to have gotten lost in
the shuffle. A woman who ran a nonprofit that helped startups turn into
corporations did not get lost in any shuffles.
He added her obvious
confusion to her not drinking and came up with a conclusion so startling it
almost made him whistle—the way his stepfather always had when he realized
something outlandish, something farfetched, something so out of the realm, of reality that only a physical gesture or a reverently whispered “Wow” would do.
Book # 2
From billionaire
bachelor
To doting daddy?
In this Manhattan Babies story, Seth McCallan is committed to being a bachelor until his best friend’s widow Harper crashes into his world. Discovering Harper’s been left with nothing, Seth resolves to put things right. Even if that means Harper — and her baby daughter — moving in. Even if that means a pram in his penthouse. Even if that means awakening a dangerous longing to stand by her side, now and always…
To doting daddy?
In this Manhattan Babies story, Seth McCallan is committed to being a bachelor until his best friend’s widow Harper crashes into his world. Discovering Harper’s been left with nothing, Seth resolves to put things right. Even if that means Harper — and her baby daughter — moving in. Even if that means a pram in his penthouse. Even if that means awakening a dangerous longing to stand by her side, now and always…
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
CHAPTER
FIVE
Harper
and Clark had gone to fund-raisers at various
art galleries and she knew most women wore cocktail dresses.
Shopping
with Seth, she hadn’t bought a cocktail dress, but she had bought a simple
black sheath that she could dress up with pearls. The outfit was simple and
elegant. She looked like the lady her mom wanted her to be.
Little
black dress.
Dating
Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor.
Forgetting
Clark.
Except
she wasn’t forgetting Clark. She and Seth weren’t really dating. After her mom’s
promise to stay out of things, this ruse was supposed to be simple, easy,
because they weren’t really going out in public. Then his mom had shown up and
now they were hip-deep in a lie.
She
stepped out of her bedroom and Mrs. P. gasped. “Oh, you look so lovely.
Old-style classy.”
Harper
laughed. “Did you just call me old?”
Wearing
a tux, Seth came from behind Mrs. P.
He
looked amazing. His long, limber body wore a tux with the
elegant grace of a man accustomed to the fine things in life. But his face bore
the oddest expression. His eyes had widened. His eyebrows had raised.
“She
said you looked good. And you do.”
“You
don’t need to be so surprised.”
“I’m
not. I’m just accustomed to seeing you in jeans.”
Ragged
jeans and worn T-shirts. Her chin lifted. She might not be allowed to be
attracted to him, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any pride. “You saw me
in cocktail dresses plenty of times when Clark and I went to these functions.”
“Yeah,
but you were married then—and to my best friend. I never really looked at you.”
Mrs.
P. chortled. “You’re digging yourself farther down, Seth. Quit while you’re
ahead.”
“Baby’s
already in bed for the night,” Harper told Mrs. P., handing her a short list of
instructions.
Mrs.
P. glanced at the paper. “If she’ll probably sleep the whole time you’re gone,
why do I need these?”
“In
case she wakes up.”
“Ah.”
Seth
walked to the island and grabbed his keys. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
When
his condo door closed behind them, she caught his arm to stop him. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“This
whole charade is turning into a big mess.” She felt like a burden. A chore. A
weird something attached to his life that he would soon grow to hate. And the
thought that he’d end up hating her tightened her chest and made her wish she’d
never asked him for help.
“It’s
not a big mess. It’s a gallery opening. We’ll show up, have a few drinks and be
back in time for Mrs. P. to catch her eleven-thirty movie.”
He
said it so easily that Harper’s chest loosened. “You’re okay with this?”
“I
started it, remember? It’s a couple of weeks out of my life. We’re fine.”
They
rode the elevator to the basement garage in silence, then stepped out into rows
of luxury cars. She spotted her Explorer quickly, if only because it was the
one car valued at less than a hundred thousand dollars.
Which
meant the Ferrari beside it was Seth’s. “Wow.”
He
opened the door for her. “You like?”
“I
love it.” When Seth walked around to the driver’s side and slid in beside her,
she said, “Clark wanted one of these but thought the SUV was more practical.”
“It
probably was.”
“Yeah,
but it wasn’t a convertible.”
He
laughed and started the car. “I’m guessing that means you want the top down.”
“Oh,
yeah.” She couldn’t deny it. She’d had a convertible when she was sixteen and
had loved it. When she’d left home, left her parents’ wealth and hypocrisy
behind, it was the only thing she’d missed.
He
pushed a button and the roof lowered, then he shifted gears and sent them
roaring out of the parking garage.
The
feeling of the wind in her hair made her laugh out loud. She’d been so
concerned about involving Seth, getting a job and finding a condo that she hadn’t
had a second of peace. And this—the wind, the night air, forgetting her
responsibilities for a few hours—was just what she needed.
“I
forgot how this messes up hair,” he said, shouting over the noise of the air
circulating around them.
“I
don’t care,” she said and meant it. “Mine’s so short, I can pull my fingers
through it and get it in shape again.”
“Good!”
He hit the gas and sent the car speeding up the street.
The
air felt fantastic. Freeing. Thanks to Mrs. P. and the need to shop for
groceries, she’d had a few times away from the baby, but they hadn’t felt like
this. Like she was allowed to be herself. Not just a mom, not a cook, not
someone scrambling for a job and maybe a place to live, but herself. Her old
self.
She
turned and yelled, “This is fabulous.”
“I
know. I sometimes drive to Jersey just for the hell of it.”
She
sucked in more air, let it wash over her like a spring rain renewing the world.
But in the blink of an eye, they pulled up to the valet in front of the
gallery. He opened Harper’s door and helped her out of the low sports car as
Seth got out on his side. Seth tossed him the keys, then took Harper’s arm.
“Ready?”
She
turned and smiled at him. “Yes.”
Susan
Meier is the author of seventy books for Harlequin and Silhouette, Entangled
Indulgence and Bliss, Tule, and one of Guideposts' Grace Chapel Inn series books,
THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS. Over the
course of her career, she’s been nominated for and won several industry awards,
including in 2013, when she lived one of her career-long dreams. Her book, THE
TYCOON’S SECRET DAUGHTER was a finalist for RWA’s highest honor, the Rita. The
same year NANNY FOR THE MILLIONAIRE’S TWINS was a National Reader’s Choice
finalist and won the Book Buyer’s Best Award. Susan is married with three
children and is one of eleven children, which is why love and family are always
part of her stories.
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