Their Very Special Marriage
feb. 2015 · Harlequin
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Um þessa rafbók
'I won't be working for the next week—unless you'd rather stay home with Sophie?'
Sophie would adore having her daddy all to herself—and maybe nursing his daughter through her illness was the wake-up call Oliver needed. The thing that would make him start concentrating on his family. Though Rachel already knew what his reaction was going to be.
'No, she needs her mum with her.'Sophie needed her dad, too. So did Robin. But Rachel wasn't feeling up to a row. 'If you think it's best,' she said coolly.Oliver raked a hand through his dark hair. 'Don't worry. I'll sort things out at the practice.'
Hell. Why did he have to look so sexy when she didn't have time to do anything about it? Since they'd had the children they didn't spend Sunday mornings in bed any more. Rachel realised just how much she missed it—the warmth of her husband's body heating hers, tangled limbs, the roughness of the hairs on his chest against her skin.Then she remembered last night. The guiltgift—chocolates that she hadn't been able to face eating because she knew why he'd bought them and they would have stuck in her throat…
Sophie would adore having her daddy all to herself—and maybe nursing his daughter through her illness was the wake-up call Oliver needed. The thing that would make him start concentrating on his family. Though Rachel already knew what his reaction was going to be.
'No, she needs her mum with her.'Sophie needed her dad, too. So did Robin. But Rachel wasn't feeling up to a row. 'If you think it's best,' she said coolly.Oliver raked a hand through his dark hair. 'Don't worry. I'll sort things out at the practice.'
Hell. Why did he have to look so sexy when she didn't have time to do anything about it? Since they'd had the children they didn't spend Sunday mornings in bed any more. Rachel realised just how much she missed it—the warmth of her husband's body heating hers, tangled limbs, the roughness of the hairs on his chest against her skin.Then she remembered last night. The guiltgift—chocolates that she hadn't been able to face eating because she knew why he'd bought them and they would have stuck in her throat…
Um höfundinn
Kate Hardy has been a bookworm since she was a toddler. When she isn't writing Kate enjoys reading, theatre, live music, ballet and the gym. She lives with her husband, student children and their spaniel in Norwich, England. You can contact her via her website: www.katehardy.com
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