Jenna swallowed. Then she turned her head and stared into the garden, watching as Lexi put Rebel on his lead and led him through the little gate towards the beach. ‘I think that life sometimes surprises you,’ she said huskily. ‘I think that just when you think everything is wrong, it suddenly turns out right. I think I’m lucky. What do you think?’

Ryan closed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘I think we only have two hours before Lexi comes home.’ His fingers were strong, and he held her as though he never intended to let her go. ‘We should probably make the most of it. Especially if we want to make a baby before we’re both too old.’

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and flung her arms around his neck. ‘What if I can’t? What if I am too old? What if I can’t give you a family?’

His hands gentle, he cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers. ‘Marry me and you will have given me all the family I need. You. Lexi.’

‘But—’

‘Sometimes we don’t begin a journey knowing where it’s going to end,’ he said softly, resting his forehead against hers as he looked down at her. ‘Sometimes we don’t have all the answers. We don’t know what the future holds, but we do know that whatever it is we’ll deal with it. Together. The three of us. And Rebel, of course.’

The three of us.

Holding those words against her like a warm blanket, Jenna lifted her head. ‘The three of us,’ she whispered softly. ‘That sounds good to me.’

* * * * *

Excerpt

Read on for a sneak peek of

ONE SUMMER IN PARIS

by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan!

Grace Porter woke on Valentine’s Day, happily married and blissfully unaware that was about to change.

Downstairs in the kitchen she added slices of cheese to the bread she’d baked fresh the day before, put fruit and raw vegetables into lunch boxes and then checked her list.

Number four on today’s list: remind Sophie about dinner.

She glanced up. “Don’t forget Dad and I are out tonight. Your dinner is in the fridge.”

Her daughter, Sophie, was messaging a friend. “Mmm…”

“Sophie!”

“I know! No phones at the table—but this is urgent. Amy and I are writing a letter to the paper about that development they’re going to build on the edge of town. Dad promised he’d publish it. Can you believe they want to close the dog shelter? Those dogs are going to die if someone doesn’t do something, and that someone is me. There. Done.” Sophie finally looked up. “Mom, I can make my own lunch.”

“Would you include fresh fruit and veg?”