“You just verified something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“You are naughty.”
She laughed again. “Only at times.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Mia wasn’t given time to ponder Kenyon’s cryptic statement—she found herself in his arms again and carried into the en suite bath. There was a soaking tub set into a raised platform and a shower enclosure with two showerheads.
Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, she pressed her breasts to his chest when he lowered her feet to the shower floor. The area between her legs was wet, throbbing. Her craving for Kenyon surpassed anything she’d ever felt and didn’t want to feel again. She sucked in her breath when a stream of cold water flowed over her head before Kenyon adjusted the temperature.
“It is warm enough now?”
Mia nodded. She wanted to tell him she was on fire, that she needed him inside her to extinguish the flame. “Yes-s-s.”
ROCHELLE ALERS
has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African-American authors of romance and women’s fiction.
With more than sixty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, is regularly chosen by Black Expressions Book Club and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including a Gold Pen Award, an Emma Award, a Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and a Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.
Ms. Alers is a member of the Iota Theta Zeta chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling. She has traveled to Europe and countries in North, South and Central America. Her future travel plans include visits to Hong Kong and New Zealand. Ms. Alers is also accomplished in knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. She is currently taking instruction in the art of hand quilting.
Oliver, a toy Yorkshire terrier, has become the newest addition to her family. When he’s not barking at passing school buses, the tiny dog can be found sleeping on her lap while she spends hours in front of the computer.
A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.
Sweet Destiny
Rochelle Alers
MILLS & BOON
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Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.
—Matthew 5:5
To my editor, Evette Porter—
thanks for the encouragement, chats and the laughs as we continue this incredible journey together.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the second of a two-book Eaton summer wedding series. This time it is Dr. Mia Eaton’s turn to walk down the aisle.
I set Sweet Destiny in West Virginia’s Mingo County to offer you a glimpse into a slower, more humble way of life. Dallas born and bred, Mia does not know what to expect when she accepts a position as a public health doctor in a region of Appalachia described as “rich yet poor, exploited yet underdeveloped, scarred yet beautiful.” This also describes Kenyon Chandler—a man who views pampered, snobby Mia as geographically undesirable until she proves she has the determination and resolve to become the first Eaton to put down roots in the Mountain State.
Look for Dr. Levi Eaton’s Sweet Southern Nights in early 2012, when he meets a true Southern belle living a double life. Tempers flare, sparks fly and the only happily-ever-after Angela Chase is certain of is what she reads in her romance novels.
Read, love and read romance.
Rochelle Alers
www.rochellealers.org
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mia Eaton asked a very pregnant Chandra Eaton-Tucker, when she noticed her cousin fidgeting restlessly on the window seat.
With one hand resting on her swollen belly and the other at the small of her back, Chandra exhaled audibly. “I’m good. It was just another contraction.”
Mia gave Chandra a look that made her cousin sit up straight. “How close are your contractions?”
“Not close at all. I am not in labor, Dr. Eaton,” Chandra said, as she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Please give me a few minutes to get myself together.”
“Don’t…” The door to the bedroom opened as the sound of voices interrupted Mia.
Denise Eaton swept into the room wearing a diaphanous wedding dress made of yards of white silk and satin, trailed by the bride’s cousin Belinda Rice, in a black silk-chiffon, Regency-inspired, floor-length gown.
It was New Year’s Eve, just four hours before the clock struck midnight, and close to a hundred people, including family and friends of the bride and groom, had gathered in the ballroom of a palatial Philadelphia colonial to witness the exchange of vows between Denise Eaton and Garrett Fennell. The bride had chosen her cousins Chandra, Belinda and Mia as her attendants. The groom’s stepfather, half brother and a close business associate were Garrett’s groomsmen.
Mia watched Denise as she lifted the skirt to her gown to reveal a pair of hand-embroidered antique shoes. The heels of the bride’s shoes dug deeply into the carpet. A profusion of miniature white roses pinned in her tightly curled hair took the place of a veil. With a slight lift of Chandra’s chin, the motion barely perceptible to the others in the room, Mia turned and walked toward the door as Denise and Belinda followed.
“Please, Mia, don’t tell me Chandra’s going to push that baby out before the ceremony.” Denise’s expression had changed from shock to concern.