His Secret Daughter
In the space of a minute, Nick Brennan learns he has a nine-year-old daughter—and that she desperately needs his help. All this time, his high school sweetheart, single mother Josie Peretti, thought he knew about their child. And that he just didn’t care. About the ill little girl—or Josie, the woman he’s never forgotten. But Nick made a long-ago promise never to forsake his family the way his father did. A promise he vows to make good on now... if only Josie will bless him with a second chance.
“Are you saying I can’t take care of my own daughter, Nick?”
“Our daughter, Josie. You need to remember I’m a part of her life now.”
“You didn’t know she existed until I told you.”
Nick frowned. “She’s still my responsibility. Your stubborn pride is getting in your way.”
“This has nothing to do with pride.” She pushed away from him and stared out the kitchen window. “You had no right to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong.”
“Would you listen to yourself? This has everything to do with pride, Josie. You’re so bent on doing everything for yourself that you won’t let me step in to help. What’s the big deal?”
She gritted her teeth and glared at him. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“No, because you think you have to carry every burden by yourself.” He gentled his voice. “When are you going to look around and see how much people care about you?”
Why couldn’t he understand she couldn’t count on anyone but herself?
LISA JORDAN
has been writing for over a decade, taking a hiatus to earn her degree in early childhood education. By day, she operates an in-home family child-care business. By night, she writes contemporary Christian romances. Being a wife to her real-life hero and mother to two young adult men overflow her cup of blessings. In her spare time, she loves reading, knitting and hanging out with family and friends. Learn more about her at www.lisajordanbooks.com.
Lakeside Family
Lisa Jordan
May the God of hope fill you with all joy
and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
—Romans 15:13
For Lilly, my sunshine. You are the light of my blueberry. And the light of my heart. Thank you for teaching us
what special really means. For Lynn and Woody— when God chose parents for Lilly, He couldn’t have made a finer match. You are my heroes.
For Your glory, Lord. Without You, none of this is possible.
Acknowledgments
Michelle Lim, brainstorming queen, whom I have the pleasure to call friend and critique partner, thank you for helping me uncover Josie’s story. Your brilliance dazzles me.
Kym Mullins, your sacrificial gift gave someone
another chance at life. You are a blessing, friend. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Kathy Hurst and Lon Hurst, thank you for the ambulance photos and information about EMTs. Any mistakes are mine.
Dr. Amy Lindberg, thank you for sharing information
about the National Marrow Donor Program. More than that, I treasure your friendship.
Dr. Ronda Wells, thank you again for your medical wisdom. Any mistakes are my own.
Dr. Reba J. Hoffman and Beth K. Vogt,
thank you for your wisdom and red pens.
Susan May Warren and Rachel Hauck—Josie and Nick survived the Circle of Insecurity. Thanks for your
amazing mentorship and consistent faith in me!
Rachelle Gardner, my wonderful agent, and Melissa Endlich, my wonderful editor, thank you for believing in me and teaming to help share my books with readers.
Thank you to the rest of the Love Inspired team for your hand in bringing my book to print.
As always, thank you to Patrick, Scott and Mitchell.
Your continued support and encouragement inspire me to keep writing. I love you forever.
Contents
Chapter One
Josie had spent the past ten years trying to forget Nickolas Brennan existed. And now she needed him more than ever.
Hard to believe after all this time he worked less than two hours from where she lived.
She climbed out of her car, slammed the door and pulled her wool coat tighter. Flipping up the collar to ward off the chill slithering down her spine, Josie slid her purse over her shoulder and trudged through the slushy parking lot toward Twain Hall. The aged brick building, which housed the English department, crested a small knoll with a familiarity to the