A Dream of His Own. Gail Martin GaymerЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Second-chance family
The only thing philanthropist Quinn O’Neill wants is to forget the accident that took his wife and son. He doesn’t expect a fender bender with a lovely stranger to change his life in a major way. Struggling single mom Ava Darnell and her teenage son have their own hardships. What better way for him to lend a hand than through the Dreams Come True Foundation? But helping Ava means earning her trust...and having faith that dreams of healing and family just might become reality.
“I missed being here.” His eyes searched hers. “And I missed seeing you.”
The temperature rose. Her cheeks burned as she gazed at him, not knowing if she should say thank-you or toss out a lighthearted comment. Before she could move, he slipped his arm around her.
“What’s Brandon up to now?”
The change in topic caught her off guard. “Resting. No school until next week, but he’s fine.”
“I’m relieved.” He brushed her cheek with his index finger.
His eyes searched hers, making her uncomfortable. She didn’t understand the touch or his embrace. Her mind spun. “Did you see the living room?”
His head jerked back as if she’d surprised him. “No. I came in through the garage.”
She struggled for breath. “Come take a look.” She beckoned to him, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She needed to get a grip.
He followed her lead, and when he reached the archway, he stopped, his gaze sweeping the room. “Wow! That makes a difference.”
“Do you like it?”
“I do, but…”
She hung on his voice, waiting for him to finish the sentence, but he only gazed at her. “But what?”
Quinn drew closer and slipped both arms around her. “But I like you more.”
GAIL GAYMER MARTIN
A former counselor and educator, Gail Gaymer Martin is an award-winning author, writing women’s fiction, romance and romantic suspense. This is her forty-seventh published novel, and she has over three million books in print. Gail is the author of twenty-eight worship resource books and Writing the Christian Romance released by Writer’s Digest Books. She is a cofounder of American Christian Fiction Writers, a member of the ACFW Great Lakes Chapter and a member of the Faith, Hope & Love Chapter of RWA.
When not writing, Gail enjoys traveling, speaking at churches and libraries, presenting writing workshops across the country and singing as a soloist, praise leader and choir member at her church, where she plays handbells and hand chimes, as well. Gail also sings with one of the finest Christian chorales in Michigan, the Detroit Lutheran Singers. Gail is a lifelong resident of Michigan and lives with her husband, Bob, in the Detroit suburbs. Visit her website at www.gailmartin.com. Write to Gail at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076, or at [email protected]. She enjoys hearing from readers.
A Dream of His Own
Gail Gaymer Martin
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moth and rust destroy,
and where thieves break in and steal.
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.
—Matthew 6:19, 20
Thanks to my Facebook group,
Readers of Gail Gaymer Martin’s Books,
for their support, ideas and amazing comments and reviews. Without readers, an author’s books would
sit on shelves. Thanks to the Michigan Secretary of State for providing detailed information on the process for obtaining a driver’s license. Today the rules are very different from my day. Thanks also to Wendy at B&B Collision for answering my many questions about accident repairs. And always, my deepest thanks go to my husband, Bob. Without his support and love, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.
Contents
Chapter One
Quinn O’Neill shifted in reverse as he checked his rear and side view mirrors at ACO Hardware. He lifted his foot from the brake and inched backward from the parking spot, his mind filled with the numerous repairs needed to return his home to what it must have looked like ninety years ago when it was new. Too bad repairing himself wasn’t as easy, but money wouldn’t fix him.
Quinn’s thoughts were interrupted by a thud, and a crunch of metal jarred his SUV. He slammed on the brake and jammed the gear into Park, then bolted outside eyeing a car embedded in his back quarter panel, the shiny black paint gouged and buckled against the woman’s dark red sedan.
She glared at him from the driver’s window, her eyes narrowed as determination set in her jaw. She pushed open her car door with a dramatic sweep, stepped out and slammed it. “Look what you’ve done.” Her arm swung toward the damage. Shattered glass from the taillight dotted the asphalt, and her trunk lid had sprung loose from the lock.
Trying to monitor his frustration, he shook his head. “It wasn’t my fault. I checked my mirrors.” He peered back at her. “More than once.” Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he’d been distracted by his thoughts. Could he have been careless?
She bustled closer. “Do you think I don’t check my mirrors?”
“I have no idea, but—” Seeing tears collecting in her eyes, he felt less inclined