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    Forever In My Heart: The Forever Series, #6
    Forever In My Heart: The Forever Series, #6
    Forever In My Heart: The Forever Series, #6
    Ebook202 pages3 hours

    Forever In My Heart: The Forever Series, #6

    By Mona Ingram

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    About this ebook

    The daughter he never knew.

    The woman he never forgot.

    Press Secretary to the Premier of British Columbia, Matt Bradford lives a high profile existence. When he learns of a daughter he didn't know about, both his job and his heart are in jeopardy. What will Matt give up to earn the love of Brianna – and her mother?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMona Ingram
    Release dateApr 5, 2016
    ISBN9781927745199
    Forever In My Heart: The Forever Series, #6
    Author

    Mona Ingram

    Mona Ingram loves to make up stories and is the author of more than four dozen romances. Most mornings she can be found at her computer, trying to keep up with the characters in her current work, many of whom invariably want to go off in a completely different direction than she planned. But that’s the joy of writing. An avid bird watcher, Mona is particularly happy when she can combine bird watching with travel.

    Read more from Mona Ingram

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      Book preview

      Forever In My Heart - Mona Ingram

      The FOREVER Series

      Book Six

      Forever In My Heart

      by

      Mona Ingram

      COVER DESIGN:

      Elizabeth Mackey

      About This Series

      Each book in the ‘Forever’ series focuses on a character at a crossroads in their life. Most stories feature a woman, but this particular title also prominently features a man. These romances contain no graphic sex, but instead focus on the story, and how the characters find love. Novella-length at between 32,00-43,000 words, they are complete stories, and may be read in any order. Enjoy!

      Copyright © 2016 Mona Ingram

      All rights reserved.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty One

      Chapter Twenty Two

      Chapter Twenty Three

      Chapter Twenty Four

      Chapter Twenty Five

      Chapter Twenty Six

      Chapter Twenty Seven

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      THIRTEEN.

      Natalie smiled to herself as she watched her daughter at the front door, waving goodbye to her friends. The sleep-over celebrating Brianna’s thirteenth birthday had been a success, if the amount of giggling was any indication. Thankfully, today was Sunday and they could all get a decent night’s sleep before school started again tomorrow.

      Thanks for the party, Mom. Brianna bounded into the kitchen and looked around. You haven’t left me anything to do. I wanted to help with the clean-up.

      There wasn’t that much. Natalie dried her hands on a towel. How does it feel to be a teenager?

      Brianna climbed on one of the stools and focused all of her attention on her mother. Actually I feel quite different. Some might even say mature.

      She’s so much like me, thought Natalie, steeling herself for what she suspected was coming. Thirteen going on thirty and I have no idea where the years have gone.

      We need to talk, Mom.

      Natalie considered her options. She could pretend not to know what Brianna was talking about, but that would only give her a few moments of respite. Besides, she’d made a promise – both to her daughter and to herself – that she’d never refuse to talk about Brianna’s father. No matter how much it hurt.

      All right, Bri. Natalie raised her head and met her daughter’s gaze squarely.

      Brianna composed herself. She had always been a methodical child, and for a moment Natalie found herself wondering what sort of a career her daughter would choose. There was no doubt that she’d excel in any field she might choose; her single-minded focus and determination were almost frightening.

      Mom, I know it’s hard for you to talk about this. The gentle tone took her off guard... another example of the subtle changes in her daughter’s behaviour. This past year, Natalie had glimpsed flashes of previously unseen sensitivity in her daughter. Not frequently, but they were there... evidence that Brianna’s gonzo attitude to life was beginning to mellow.

      Natalie took in a deep breath and took the stool across from her daughter, offering what she hoped was an encouraging smile. What is it Sweetheart?

      Brianna pushed her hair back, as though the strawberry blonde locks were impeding her ability to think. It’s about my father, she said tentatively. But you already know that, right?

      Natalie nodded. For some reason, Brianna had taken to asking about her father on her birthday. The first time had been when she was eight, and the tentative inquiries had come as a complete surprise. Now the questions simply elicited a dull ache somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

      Brianna grabbed the salt shaker that had been sitting on the counter and rolled it between her palms. It was one of Natalie’s earlier efforts; a bit coarse and slightly lopsided, but Brianna had refused to let her mother throw it on the scrap heap. No surprise there – she loved every piece of pottery that Natalie had ever created.

      Brianna directed her words toward the salt shaker, unwilling to meet her mother’s eyes. I know you said you’d tell me about him when I reached sixteen, but I don’t want to wait. She threw back her shoulders and raised her head. I’m thirteen now, Mom. A teenager as you so correctly pointed out. And I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to know who he is.

      But we agreed... Natalie’s words trailed off. She’d been fighting a headache since waking up and wasn’t sure she had the strength to get into this with Brianna. But even as she phrased her refusal, she wondered what had prompted Brianna to make the request. She usually asked for one or two new details about her father – things she hadn’t been told before – almost as though she were fitting the pieces of a jigsaw together and the result would be a picture of her father.

      Why now? Natalie had to know. Hope bloomed in Brianna’s eyes and Natalie held up a hand. I didn’t mean that as encouragement, but I think you’ll agree that it’s a fair question. Why now? she repeated.

      Brianna stopped toying with the salt shaker and set it aside. We were talking last night, she said, staring down at her empty hands. Connie’s uncle died. The words started to tumble out. He’s her father’s brother and he lives in Spain. Connie had never met him and we started talking about people in our lives we’d like to see more often. I really wanted to talk about my father, but I couldn’t get the words to come out. She lapsed into silence.

      I didn’t know. Natalie’s words came out strangled.

      Brianna’s head flew up. But you do, Mom. I ask you about him every year. I’d ask more often, but I don’t want to upset you.

      Natalie shook her head. Sorry, that’s not what I meant. What I meant to say was that I didn’t know you girls talked about such serious stuff.

      Brianna raised her eyebrows and lifted both shoulders in a surprisingly adult gesture. We talk about lots of stuff. Determined Brianna was back. Lots.

      You really are growing up, aren’t you?

      I’ve been trying to tell you, Mom. But let’s not get off the subject here. She shifted on her stool and edged forward. What if something happened to my father between now and when I’m sixteen? What if I never got to meet him? Wouldn’t that be tragic?

      Natalie smiled. She couldn’t help it. "Have you been reading Anne of Green Gables again?"

      Brianna’s lips twitched in a smile, confirming her mother’s suspicion. Maybe.

      Pain throbbed in Natalie’s temples. She was always susceptible to headaches when she hadn’t had enough sleep, and last night certainly qualified. Yet she couldn’t allow the oncoming headache to put off the rest of the conversation.

      I hear what you’re saying, she said, feeling her way along as though blindfolded. But you know I’m no good at split-second decisions.

      Brianna rolled her eyes. Tell me about it.

      Give me some time to think about this, okay? She glanced at the iPad mini on the counter and tapped the calendar. You’ll be out of school in seven weeks. Let’s talk again then, okay?

      Recognizing that she’d gained a small victory, Brianna decided not to push. Thanks, Mom. She stood up, walked around the end of the counter, and hugged Natalie. You’re getting a headache. I can see it in your eyes. Better go lie down.

      Natalie nodded. Even the slight movement hurt. Brianna preceded her into her bedroom and pulled the drapes closed, darkening the room. Sometimes Natalie didn’t understand this mercurial creature that was her whole life. Bold and demanding one moment; gentle and caring the next. If they didn’t share the same strawberry blonde hair and sprinkle of freckles across their nose, she’d wonder where the child had come from.

      As if she could forget.

      Chapter Two

      GOOD MORNING. MATTHEW Bradford placed his hands on the sides of the podium, and then forced himself to loosen his grip. No sense letting the reporters know that he was ticked off... again.

      As the Press Secretary to the Premier of British Columbia, he’d been called on to speak at his share of press conferences. But lately he’d been the go-to guy more frequently, and it was beginning to annoy him. Not that he minded the give and take with the reporters; he knew as much or perhaps more about the government’s programmes than the Premier, so he was at ease with the questions. No, it was the reason for the Premier’s absence that bothered him.

      He looked into the familiar faces. Unlike in the movies, he had no enemies here. He’d never given the press in Victoria any reason to dislike him. As a matter of fact, most of them knew that his door was usually open if they needed clarification on anything they were about to print.

      A skilled communicator, Matthew cherished his job, and the opportunities it provided him. Well, maybe not all the opportunities, he thought, spotting Hilary Spencer, a particularly aggressive reporter. He’d made the mistake of having a drink with her one evening after a long day at work, and she’d been pursuing him ever since. She tilted her head toward the side door, suggesting that he meet her later, but he pretended not to notice, smiling instead at RuthAnn Reynolds. Now there was someone whose company he enjoyed.

      At somewhere close to seventy, RuthAnn was a veteran reporter. She’d known him virtually all his life, having been socially active in the same circles as his parents when her husband was still alive. She was rumoured to be independently wealthy, and many of the other reporters openly speculated about why she continued to work, but Matthew understood.

      Someone has to get it right, RuthAnn had said to him during one of their lunches in the Legislative Dining Room. Most of these young bucks who call themselves reporters shoot first and take names later.

      RuthAnn took her time packing her briefcase while the others drifted out of the room. Matt gathered his notes, and stepping down from the podium, he approached her.

      Mrs. Reynolds. Good to see you.

      RuthAnn squinted up at him, one eyelid drooping ever so slightly. She’d had a mild stroke a few years back, but had recovered almost completely. How many times do I have to tell you, young man? My name’s RuthAnn.

      Sorry, ma’am. I just can’t do it. Matthew offered his most dazzling smile. Most of the single women who worked in the Parliament Buildings, not to mention a few married ones, swooned a little every time he directed that smile in their direction.

      RuthAnn rose slowly, her head coming up to the mid-point of his chest. Save that smile for the single ladies, my lad. She tilted her head sideways and her voice softened. Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea just how good looking you are.

      A bright red blush crept up Matthew’s neck and into his cheeks. If the comment had come from anyone else, he might be offended, but he knew that RuthAnn was just trying to get a rise out of him.

      I’m teasing, you know that, she said, laying a hand on his arm.

      He smiled and remained silent.

      That’s the third time this month you’ve had to fill in for him, she said, keeping her voice lowered. "You’d think he could manage his affairs on his own time."

      He looked at her sharply. How many people knew of the Premier’s mistress in Vancouver? Matthew had learned about the affair many years ago, but it still troubled him. After sweeping into office on a platform of Family Values, the power had gone to Premier Watson’s head, and he’d taken up with the first woman who had come on to him. At least that’s what Matt had thought at the time, but he now knew that Premier James Andrew Watson had known his mistress before getting married. A master manipulator, Watson had recognized that the woman who was now his wife had the money and connections to get him into office. He’d married her and produced two daughters before returning to his affair. Matt still didn’t know if his wife was aware of his extracurricular activities.

      The urge to defend the Premier with a heartfelt denial didn’t last long. He glanced discreetly around the room, ensuring that they were alone before he spoke. Does everyone know?

      RuthAnn shook her head as she slowly headed for the door. Not really. A couple of them might suspect, but they aren’t quite so bold as to poke the hornet’s nest. She looked at Matthew through eyes that had seen it all. They like their jobs, and this beat is the only one that really matters here in Victoria. She shrugged. So...

      Thanks, Mrs. R.

      She paused just shy of the hallway. You must be disappointed in him. Before he could deny it, she continued speaking. "I know you’re the one who came up with the campaign concept the second time he ran. Don’t deny it. I spoke to one of the insiders, who

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