|
|
|
|
The Memory of You aka Something Worth Remembering The first book in the Return to Redemption family saga
“A heart-warming tale of love and second chances. I thoroughly enjoyed this book!”
Joy Nash, USA Today best-selling author of The Unforgiven and A Little Light Magic
“A poignant and sensual read filled with great characters you’ll fall in love with.”
Hope Ramsay, best-selling author of Welcome to Last Chance
She can't forget him — He can't remember her Together they must discover the healing power of unforgettable love
Second Lieutenant Matthew Foster was captured in Vietnam and mistakenly declared dead. Six years later, he’s finally released with the other POWs during Operation Homecoming. Unfortunately, his memory has been erased by the torture and emotional trauma he endured. Due to prior facial injuries and the beard concealing his gauntness, he looks nothing like the boyish photo in his military file.
When the Army informs Matt he has a wife, he’s sure Abby must have made a new life for herself. And he doubts the bitter man he’s become can salvage enough of the boy she once cared for. To be fair to her, he decides to simply write a note to wish her well and leave. But before he does, he can’t resist going to Redemption, PA, to catch a glimpse of the woman he’d loved enough to marry.
The irony of the small town’s name is totally eclipsed by Matt’s dread that he’ll discover he’s lost something truly worth remembering. That fear becomes reality when he learns Abby is engaged, and he’s a daddy! Luckily, his wife doesn’t recognize him, so Matt could still walk away from the beautiful stranger who’s been starring in his X-rated dreams. However, he could never, ever abandon his sons.
The clock is ticking. Any day, the military will inform Abby he’s alive, and her wedding is in only six weeks. It doesn’t give Matt much time to discover if he can reclaim the love the war stole from him.
Excerpt from The Memory of You
Rather than wasting his cash on train fare, Matt walked to University Avenue and stuck out his thumb. Fate smiled when one of the nurses who’d cared for him stopped. She was on her way to New Hope to visit her sister, so she agreed to give him a lift to the address in his file. During the ride, a peculiar sense of familiarity nagged him. He knew every curve in the road, yet he had no memory of ever being there. Arriving at the quiet residential cul-de-sac, Matt sank onto the curb across the street from his wife’s property under a large maple tree garbed in green buds. He breathed in the fresh scent of the hyacinths and daffodils blooming in the nearby yard and studied the small white rancher and its breathtaking view of the countryside. The house desperately needed a coat of paint. Obviously, Dr. Grant knew what she was talking about. His wife must have some sort of a job. She wouldn’t be able to afford to live in such a nice area on only his army benefits. Nor would she have what appeared to be a brand new Mercedes-Benz and a ‘66 GTO parked in her driveway. When the front door sprang open, Matt jumped up and ducked behind the tree. A brown-haired man in his early thirties stepped out of the house, followed by a tiny woman whose head would barely reach Matt’s chin. Blonde waves cascaded down her back, brushing the come-hither strip of flesh flashing between her pink tie-died T-shirt and faded bell-bottom jeans. Her curvy figure matched the faceless woman’s who previously existed only in Matt’s dreams. High, full breasts and a slender waist topped a gently rounded bottom accentuated by her low, hip-hugging pants. No way could this young girl be his wife. She would’ve been just a baby when they got married. The man brushed a kiss across her lips before striding to the silver Mercedes and calling, “Love you, Ab.” Damn. She was Abby. “See you tonight.” Her dazzling smile made Matt’s breath hitch. Except for the contradiction of her sexy figure, she looked like an angel. He’d bought his jeans on the loose side with the intention of gaining weight, but after getting a gander of his erotic fantasy in the flesh, he still didn’t have enough room to be comfortable. From his vantage point, he couldn’t tell for sure, but he’d give ten to one odds Abby had green eyes. He’d been too embarrassed to tell Dr. Grant about the intense X-rated encounters that teased the edges of his mind the same way a dream does after waking up. They were irrelevant since the woman was indistinguishable in them. All he remembered was burying his face in luxurious rose-scented hair, gazing into emerald eyes, and an incredible physical experience. Seeing his dream woman come to life after spending more than six interminable years either alone or with a bunch of smelly men, left his body screaming, Come on, Baby! What had a gorgeous creature like her ever seen in him? She could have any guy she wanted. He swallowed hard past the .45 caliber lump lodged in his throat. Even though he didn’t remember her outside his dreams, it still hurt to see his wife kiss Mr. Mercedes. Matt heaved a sigh. He must have masochistic tendencies. Why else would he put himself through this? Despite the man’s mutton chop sideburns—a style that should have stayed in the Victorian era—he seemed like a decent guy. And his luxury car proved he could provide for Abby a helluva lot better than Matt could. He should just write her a note and bow out of her life gracefully. After the Mercedes sped off, instead of going back into the house, his wife strolled the thirty yards to the corner. She stopped and stood there for several minutes. Hearing the fellow tell Abby he loved her had settled things for Matt. As he turned to walk away, a school bus pulled up to the corner and two little boys scrambled off, one with sunny blond hair and the other with a windblown mop the same shade as toffee. They both ran to Abby, their arms outstretched for a hug and the shower of kisses she rained over their faces. When they trooped back toward Matt, he jumped behind the tree, his gut in a knot. The boys appeared to be about six, so he’d bet everything he had—which, granted, didn’t amount to much—he was their father. Once they got closer, he studied the blond child’s face. The kid didn’t look anything like Matt, although he did have Abby’s coloring. The other boy grabbed a paper out of the towhead’s hand and sprinted off as if a starter pistol had been fired. “Tommy!” The blond little boy chased after him. Abby planted her hands on her hips and hollered, “Matthew Thomas Foster, Jr. give that back to Royce. Right now!” O-kaaay. That settled any question about who’d sired the twins. Matt watched the two boys race each other into the house. Anguish clogged his throat. He might be able to walk away from this sexy woman. But not from his sons. He rubbed the tightness in his chest as six years of fear became reality. He really did have something worth remembering.
Click on the titles to read other summaries
A Little Bit of Déjà Vu No Exchanges, No Returns The Right Match
Copyright 2008 Laurie Kellogg
|
|
