A Proposal to Remember

‘Possibly not.’

‘We’re probably going to have to work on that.’

‘Probably.’

He slid a hand into his pocket. ‘This partnership. Are you willing to make it permanent?’

She stared at the box in his hand. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

‘Yes.’ He opened the box and lifted the ring out.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘It’s stunning.’

He took her hand. ‘Will you marry me?’

She blinked back tears as he slid the ring onto her finger. ‘If you’re willing to risk the fact that I might poison you in the kitchen.’

‘You won’t be allowed in the kitchen.’ His voice was hoarse as he hauled her against him and bent his head to hers. ‘There are other rooms in the house that are going to take priority.’

Some considerable time later Anna pulled away, her heart thumping. ‘You do realise that your parents are going to be horribly smug about all this,’ she muttered against his mouth. ‘They’ll think it’s because of them.’

‘I never do anything my parents want,’ Sam reminded her, his eyes still half shut as he studied her face. ‘If we’re together, it’s in spite of them.’

‘Your mum will be knitting like mad.’

He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘Good. Given the number of pregnancies that happen in this village, I’d say that was sensible planning.’

She giggled and kissed him back. ‘I love you. Even if you are sometimes wrong about things.’

‘I love you, too.’ The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes gleamed. ‘And I’m never wrong about anything.’

‘You drive me nuts, McKenna.’

‘Always have done, always will do.’ And he lowered his mouth to hers.

* * * * *

Read on for a sneak peek of

A WEDDING IN DECEMBER

by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan!

When her phone rang at three in the morning, ripping her from a desperately needed sleep, Maggie’s first thought was bad news.

Her mind raced through the possibilities, starting with the worst-case scenario. Death, or at least life-changing injury. Police. Ambulances.

Heart pounding, brain foggy, she grabbed her phone from the summit of her teetering pile of books. The name on the screen offered no reassurance.

Trouble stalked her youngest daughter.

“Rosie?” She fumbled for the light and sat up. The book she’d fallen asleep reading thudded to the floor, scattering the pile of Christmas cards she’d started to write the night before. She’d chosen a winter scene of snow-laden trees. They hadn’t had a flake of snow in the village on Christmas Day for close to a decade. They often joked that it was a good thing their last name was White because it was the only way they were ever going to have a White Christmas.

She snuggled under the blanket with the phone. “Has something happened?” The physical distance between her and Rosie made her feel frustrated and helpless.

Everyone said global travel made the world smaller, but it didn’t seem smaller to Maggie. Why couldn’t her daughter have continued her studies closer to home? Oxford, with its famous spires and ancient colleges, was only a few miles away. Rosie had done her undergraduate degree there, followed by a master’s. Maggie had loved having her close by. They’d taken sunlit strolls along cobbled streets, past ancient honey-colored buildings and through Christchurch Meadows, golden with daffodils. They’d followed the slow meander of the river and cheered on the rowing crews. She’d hoped, privately, that her daughter might stay close by, but after Rosie had graduated she’d been offered a place on a US doctoral program, complete with full funding.

Can you believe it, Mum? The day she’d had the news she’d danced across the living room, hair flying around her face, twirling until she was dizzy and Maggie was dizzy watching her. Are you proud of me?