sweet.” He closed his eyes. “Did you tell Michael?”
“He caught me in his room and already knew, so the cat’s out of the bag.”
“It’s a good cat.”
His words slurred and before he could say more, he was back asleep. Poppy turned off the lamps before heading toward Michael’s room and crawling into bed beside him. She’d slept alone enough lately. She curled up to his side and found her comfortable spot again where her neck was perfectly supported by his bicep when her head hit the pillow.
They’d have another baby soon, little diapers, tiny clothes, midnight feedings, and sleepless nights. Her heart raced even as her eyelids grew heavy. A spring baby, just in time to enjoy the sunshine with not so much threat of snow.
Another building block in making their family whole. A life to be treasured, nurtured, and loved. She couldn’t wait to pull out the rest of the baby clothes she’d left in the basement. All those sweet outfits held so many memories. The ribbons, bows, and pink sleepers with cows and trucks on them—a mix she’d happily indulged. They were set. After three Paraby newborns, she knew how the little ones operated. She closed her eyes. This was old hat, a visit to a familiar dimension of stress and late nights. Nothing to worry about.
Poppy shifted to her back and settled her hand on her stomach.
Unless it was a boy. Then all bets were off.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Even before she understood what all the thrusting meant, Stephanie Beck loved reading romance. When the stories didn't end the way she wanted, writing her own was the perfect solution. From ridiculous humor to erotica, Stephanie loves being transported within a story. When she's not elbow deep in words, her husband and three children command her attention. After they are sleeping she knits or bakes cookies…or squeezes in more writing.
Stephanie loves to hear from readers. Contact her at
[email protected] Find Stephanie Beck at
www.stephaniebeck.net or
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