Meant To Be
Authors: Donna Marie Rogers
The Wild Rose Press
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©2008 by Donna M. Kowalczyk
Reviews for Donna Marie Rogers
"We're building a doghouse."
His busy fingers moved to her shoulders wringing a groan of ecstasy from her. Oh, God, was she drooling on his shirt? Then his words registered. Jessica leaned back and swiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “A doghouse? But you don't have a dog ... do you?"
"No, but Ethan's been begging for a puppy for a couple years now. I guess he finally wore Sara down. And Mike's still in the ‘buy-Ethan-anything-he-wants’ phase.” Garrett glanced down at his T-shirt and chuckled. He reached out and recaptured the back of her neck. “Liked that, did you? You do seem a little tense—"
"Oh, no you don't.” She ducked out of his reach and took a few steps back. He started to follow but she held up both hands. “You stay right where you are."
He propped his hands on his hips. “So do I have a date tonight or what?"
"Or what."
He grinned. “Wear something sexy,” he said with a wink before strolling out the back door. The jackass even had the nerve to whistle.
Jessica walked over and slammed the door with a muttered, “Nutjob.” Then she headed into the bedroom to search through her closet.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Meant to Be
COPYRIGHT ©
2008 by Donna M. Kowalczyk
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2009
Print ISBN: 1-60154-533-9
Published in the United States of America
"THERE'S ONLY BEEN YOU is a heartwarming story of family and a second chance at love. This is the first of what we hope is many novels from this talented new author. Reading Donna Marie Rogers is like coming home."
~ Best-selling, Award-winning author Tori Carrington
"Love lost and found is the basis of this wonderfully heartwarming read. Throw in a years-old lie and a strong sense of family and it only gets better and better. A subplot concerning a dirty cop adds a nice mystery to spice up the story."
~Romantic Times BOOK Reviews (4 Stars)
"I have to say Ms. Rogers outdid herself yet again. From the first page, I was pulled into the story and I remained hooked right until the last sentence ... This author has a way of telling a story and pulling you in as if you're a character in the book seeing everything firsthand. I highly recommend this book and promise you won't be disappointed!"
~Reviewer Top Pick—Night Owl Romance
"...Readers of contemporary romance will be thoroughly delighted in reading There's Only Been You as Donna Marie Rogers delivers a tender tale of love, family, and second chances. I'm sure others will join in my great anticipation for her sequels."
~Wild On Books
Garrett Jamison stormed out of the car dealership, his aggravation level at an all-time high. Friggin’ idiots. How hard was it to change the oil, spark plugs, and slap on a couple of new tires? Christ, he could've done a faster job with a can opener and a hammer.
With an hour yet to kill before his truck was ready, Garrett weaved his way across six lanes of traffic and headed for the restaurant on the corner.
Please let them make a decent cup of coffee.
He shoved the door open with more force than necessary, stalked past the sign that read PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED, and slid into a dark green booth in the farthest corner of the room.
He glanced around with little interest. Typical family-style restaurant. Fake potted plants hung over each table, quaint yet forgettable paintings of waterfalls and landscapes graced each wall. To the left of him stood a stack of green and brown plastic booster seats and trayless wooden highchairs. The tempting aromas of everything from bacon and smoked ham to fresh blueberry muffins and syrup-dripping pancakes made his mouth water and his stomach grumble.
A good five minutes went by, and still no waitress. Jesus, what did a guy have to do to get a cup of coffee in this place? He flipped his cup over and dumped in a couple of creamers.
Elbow resting on the table, face cradled in his open hand, Garrett skimmed one of the pamphlets he'd grabbed from the dealership. He was on the verge of storming out when he heard soft footsteps approach.
"'Bout time.” He folded up the pamphlet and rubbed his eyes. “I'll take a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie with...” His words trailed off when he glanced up and got a look at his waitress. “You've got to be kidding me."
Garrett hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days thanks to his irritating new neighbor here and her howling cat. She and the mammoth fur ball had moved in a couple of weeks ago, and if they stayed much longer, he'd be lucky to keep his sanity.
"Yeah, I'm getting that warm, fuzzy feeling myself,” Jessica McGovern muttered, pen poised over her order tablet. “So what do you want with your pie?"
"A new waitress."
Her eyes narrowed. “You just can't help being a jerk, can you? How you could possibly be related to the rest of your family is beyond me."
"Well, you can thank that squealing tub of lard you call a cat for my cheery disposition. Which reminds me, have you had that thing euthanized yet? ‘Cause I could probably get you a discount at the animal hospital down the road."
"You're disgusting,” she shot back. “No wonder you're not married. What woman would have you?"
He leaned back and draped his arm across the back of the booth. “Well, I don't see a ring on your finger either,
sweetheart
."
"I'm divorced, not that it's any of your business."
He smirked. “Now, there's a surprise. What's amazing is he actually went through with the ceremony. And please don't tell me you have kids, because any spawn of yours would be—"
Jessica hauled off and slapped him so hard Garrett was shocked into stunned silence. The sound reverberated across the room, silencing the majority of patrons and restaurant staff.
She gaped at him, eyes widened in horror. Garrett had a feeling if he glanced in a mirror, he'd be able to watch the imprint of her hand materialize on his cheek like a Polaroid picture. Damn if it didn't sting like hell.
But he'd deserved it. Some raw emotion had darkened her eyes just before she struck him. Garrett felt like a first-class jackass for causing her such pain. What the hell was the matter with him?
Jessica's manager, a short, middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a scar slashed across the corner of his mouth making it look as if he had a perpetual pout, came barreling forward, his dour expression not boding well for her.
"Mr. Turner, I can explain, I—"
He shot Jessica a quick scowl before turning to face Garrett. “Sir, I would like to offer a most sincere apology, and of course, your meal's on the house."
He turned back to confront Jessica. “Ms. McGovern, needless to say, you're fired. Please collect your purse and punch out. I'll be back there in a few minutes to cut you a check."
Before she could respond, Garrett rose to his full height and towered over the squat little man. “I'm afraid what just happened was entirely my fault. I'm ashamed to admit I made a rather vulgar comment, and the lady here merely reacted as any decent woman would. I guess you could say I got what I deserved."
Garrett glanced down at Jessica, who cocked a brow, but remained silent.
"Sir, that may be, but I can't have someone in my employ who would strike a customer, regardless of the reason."
"Listen, what if she offers me an apology and promises never to do it again?"
"I don't know.” Mr. Turner seemed less than thrilled with the idea. He did a quick scan of the restaurant as if seeking approval from the other customers.
"Come on, Ms. McGovern,” Garrett said. “Say you're sorry so I can get that pie and coffee I came in here for, and you can get back to work. I'm sure the rest of your customers are just as hungry as I am.” He held her gaze, daring her to argue.
"I'm terribly sorry for slapping you across the face,” she said, hands clenched, no doubt itching to smack him again.
"I accept your apology. Mr. Turner, I hope this settles it. And since I do feel responsible for what happened, I insist on paying my own check."
Mr. Turner glanced back and forth between them before giving a curt nod. “All right then. Ms. McGovern, I suggest you get back to work.” He turned back to Garrett. “Mr., uh—?"
"Jamison. Officer Garrett Jamison."
Mr. Turner gave an owlish blink and cleared his throat. “Officer Jamison, again, I apologize.” He turned on his heel and headed for the backroom.
Garrett sat back down as Jessica followed after her boss. She cast Garrett an odd glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.
Well, he had to admit, she had his attention. She'd given as good as she got until he'd made that thoughtless comment about her having kids. Garrett's face prickled with shame. He knew how he'd feel if someone made a similar comment to his sister, Sara.
Jessica reappeared from the kitchen, and he watched her approach with his pie and a pot of coffee, viewing her suddenly in a new light. She was tiny, maybe five-foot-two, but there was something regal about the way she walked that made her seem more imposing. Her body was perfection, too, with curves in all the right places. Maybe if he hadn't been wallowing in self-pity for the past couple of weeks, he'd have noticed sooner.
"You never did say what you wanted with your pie,” she said as she set his plate down and filled his cup with the steaming brew, “so I topped it with whipped cream."
How could he not have realized how gorgeous those big blue eyes were before? Maybe they just seemed more pronounced with her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a fat bun. When free, he knew it flowed well past her shoulders in thick waves—
Jessica snapped her fingers in front of his nose and intoned, “Look toward the light, Jamison. Follow the sound of my voice."
He grinned. She had a good sense of humor too, which, let's face it, a woman would have to have to put up with his moody ass. “Whipped cream is fine."
She crossed her arms. “But it isn't what you wanted, right?"
"I would've preferred ala mode, but I like whipped cream as well."
Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, what's up with the personality change?"
"What are you talking about?” He held his palms up in mock supplication. “I'm always a happy-go-lucky guy."
She let out an unladylike snort. “Yeah, and I'm Pamela Anderson. No, seriously, why the turnaround? I slapped you across the face and it was like flipping a switch from monster to human being."
"Careful,” he drawled, “you might make me blush with such sweet words.” He noticed someone gesturing for her. “Go take care of the rest of your customers and let me eat my pie in peace, will you?"
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever."
Mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked away, Garrett decided he may have been a bit too hasty in his first impression.
Jessica snatched her purse out of her locker and clocked out. Big idiot cop. Okay, so he'd saved her from getting fired. Big whoopty-do. Her job wouldn't have been in jeopardy in the first place if he hadn't provoked her to violence.