If he still had any question, which he didn’t, her reaction to their honeymoon destination would have told him everything he needed to know.

His new wife needed his body beside her in their bed.

And anything else life threw at them, she would deal.

Then again, she was dealing with a five carat diamond on her finger.

“Finest woman I ever met,” he whispered.

Her hand cupped his jaw. “Mickey.”

“Love you, Mrs. Donovan.”

She closed her eyes and it swept through her face, something he’d seen countless times, something that never failed to move him, and fuck, fuck, he gave her that.

He gave it to her.

And each time he did, he got it.

She didn’t need fifteen million dollars.

She didn’t need all her money.

She needed to feel that feeling.

That was all she needed.

And it was only him who could give it.

She opened her eyes.

“Same here, Mickey.”

He grinned at her before he kissed her and he did that a lot for three days (and beyond).

Then he made love to her and they did that a lot for three days (and beyond).

After, they ate squirtable cheese and did good things with whipped cream.

They also slept together and they woke up together.

And last, they spent three days naked together in that bed (also in the shower).

And that was all either of them needed.

The Magdalene series will conclude with the story of Coert.

*****

Read an excerpt from the first book in the Magdalene series, The Will.

The Safest Place I Could Be

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

My mouth filled with saliva when I heard these words, my eyes—shaded by both sunglasses and a big black hat—moving from the shining casket covered in a massive spray of deep red roses to the preacher standing at its side.

I wanted to rise up from my chair, snatch the words from the air and shove them down his throat.

This was an unusual reaction for me. I wasn’t like that.

But he was talking about Gran.

Gran, my Gran, the Gran whose body was in that casket.

She wasn’t exactly young, this was true. I knew it was coming, seeing as she was ninety-three.

That didn’t mean I wanted her to be gone. I never wanted her to be gone.

Outside of Henry, she was the only person I had. The only person in this whole world.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Gran wasn’t dust.

My Gran was everything.

On this thought, I felt them coming and I couldn’t stop them. Fortunately, when they spilled over, they were silent. Then again, they always were. The last time I let loose that kind of emotion was decades ago.

I never let it happen again.

I felt the wet crawling down my cheeks from under my sunglasses as I moved my eyes back to the casket. I felt them drip off my jaw but I didn’t lift a hand. I wanted no one to notice the tears so I wouldn’t give them any reason to do so, not even movement.