“Thank you,” I mouth, nodding at him.

In return he raises his glass in the air, offering me a wink before turning to his wife, and I smile as Harley rests his forehead against mine, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose before whispering how happy he is, his lips brushing against my ear.

I close my eyes and smile to myself, because in this moment, despite the long and often painful road it took to finally find one another, right now, Harley and I are exactly where we belong.

If Murph and Harley's romance swept you away, don't miss The Long Way Home, the next unputdownable novel from Shann McPherson. Available for pre-order now!

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Acknowledgments

Firstly, I’d like to thank Abi, my amazing editor, for taking a chance on an unknown author, and for being so patient when I’ve been clueless and stubborn and, quite frankly, impossible throughout most of this journey.

To my Twitter girls who have supported and encouraged me every step of the way—you know who you are—thank you so much, my loves.

Thank you to two incredibly talented authors—Zoe May and Belinda Missen—for helping me find my feet through this intimidating venture. A special shout out to Heather MacKinnon, a talented author and a wonderful friend who helped and encouraged me while writing this book.

Thank you to my family who have been my biggest advocates.

Finally, to my husband, Michael; thank you the most for allowing me to be selfish while I chase my dreams. Without your unwavering support, this would never have been possible. I don’t say it nearly enough, but I love you more than life itself.

Keep reading for an excerpt from The Long Way Home…

Chapter 1

The atmosphere at the field was electric. The baseball diamond was illuminated by the bright glow of floodlights, the giant bulbs humming loudly. The bleachers were packed to capacity with excited parents and overzealous fans waving clappers, blowing hooters, their horns ringing through the air. This was accompanied by the lingering smell of corn dogs and other deep-fried foods hanging heavily in the night air.

March had brought with it a newfound warmth after the shrill cold of the winter months, but a chill persisted, which caused Maggie to tuck her hands between her knees as she searched the crowded stands.

She checked her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, shaking her head to herself. Where is he? He wasn’t just late; he was half an hour late. She pulled her cell phone from her handbag, but it only added to her frustrations to find the screen void of contact from him. No call, no text, no email, and God knows that man couldn’t tear himself away from his inbox for longer than a few minutes. Her jaw clenched with annoyance.

“Dad’s gonna miss it!’