“I had a great night.”

      Rhys spoke, then pressed a kiss to her lips. He lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes. Charlie stared at him, stunned, her heart thudding against her breastbone. He palmed the nape of her neck, and then he was kissing her again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth this time, turning her legs to jelly.

      After a long moment, he drew back. “Come home with me?” he asked very quietly, his voice husky.

       Dear God, I thought you’d never ask.

      “Yes.”

      He smiled and moved closer, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned into him. She wanted him. She’d indulged herself precious few times in her life, but she wanted this man, wanted the experience he promised with his dark eyes and hard body, and she was damn well going to have him.

      “You keep that up, we’re not even going to make it home,” Rhys murmured against her mouth.

      “What are we waiting for, then?”

      Dear Reader,

      My inspiration for this book was a common jumping-off point for romance novels—two people spend the night together and inadvertently make a baby. Sometimes in romance stories the baby then becomes a secret, but in this case, I wanted the baby to be a catalyst for Charlie, my heroine, and Rhys, my hero, to move beyond one night and into a relationship that neither of them think they are ready for.

      I wanted to play out the reality of such a difficult situation, step-by-step. What would it be like to discover you’re pregnant with the child of a virtual stranger? And how would you feel if a woman turned up on your doorstep and told you that you were going to become a father? At a certain point in the book, I realized that I’d put poor Charlie and Rhys in very complex, loaded circumstances. I felt so sorry for them! And I desperately wanted them to find their happy-ever-after—particularly Charlie, who hasn’t had nearly enough love in her life.

      By the time I had finished, I was satisfied that Rhys understood that Charlie coming into his world was the best thing that had ever happened to him—the reason he’d been searching for through all his striving to succeed, succeed, succeed—and that Charlie had at last found a place to call home. I hope you enjoy reading their story—I got so much out of writing it.

      Until next time,

       Sarah Mayberry

      PS—I love to hear from readers! Contact me through my website, www.sarahmayberryauthor.com.

      About the Author

      SARAH MAYBERRY lives on the bay in Melbourne, Australia, with her partner (now husband!) of nearly twenty years. When she’s not writing, she tries to keep the jungle that is her garden under control with the help of her tireless green-thumbed mother. She also enjoys cooking, reading, going to the movies, shopping for shoes and hanging out with her friends and family.

      More Than

       One Night

      Sarah Mayberry

      As always, the two people who have kept me sane

       while writing this book are Chris and Wanda. If I was Bette Midler, I would say you were “The wind beneath my wings.” Since I’m me, I’ll settle for saying you both make me a better person and a better writer (not as poetic, but lighter on the fromage factor, hopefully).

      Big thanks also to Lisa, the bestest neighbor ever, and

       to Joan for being my lovely sane writer friend who understands the joy and pain of being in the trenches wrestling with plot, character and grammar.

      Last, but not least, I want to send a shout-out to the

       online romance writing and reading community. It’s so awesome to know there are so many of us who live to read and dream and write about love and human relationships. Your collective generosity and smarts continually impresses me.

       CHAPTER ONE

      THE SOUND OF a champagne cork popping echoed in the small kitchen.

      “Woohoo! We are going to have so much fun, former Warrant Officer Long. It’s going to be just like old times.”

      Charlie Long smiled at her friend Gina’s exuberant prediction.

      “Save some of that perkiness for later. You don’t want to peak too soon,” Charlie warned as she passed a long-stemmed flute for filling. “We have a big night ahead.”

      A night that included lots of French champagne and some fine dining, if Charlie had any say in it.

      “Don’t worry, I’m pacing myself. I have lots of perkiness in reserve.” Gina’s grin was infectious, a perfect match for her cherubic face and blond corkscrew curls.

      Charlie raised her glass. “To good friends with spare rooms and big hearts.”

      Gina lifted hers in turn. “To the rest of your life. To having a home that’s all yours. To meeting a guy who doesn’t know how to field strip a Steyr F88 rifle and who isn’t going to ship out when things start getting good. And to never, ever having to wear khaki again.”

      Charlie laughed and clinked glasses with her friend. “Amen to that.”

      She felt a little disloyal as she threw back the first mouthful of champagne. The army had been good to her. It had been her family, of sorts, for almost half her life. Even though she was ready to move on, she didn’t regret the years she’d given in service to her country. They’d made her who she was—defined her, really—for good or bad.

      She felt the now-familiar lurch of nervousness as she contemplated life without the framework of the army.

      So many possibilities to reinvent herself and her life. So much change. So much opportunity.

      “How long do you think it’ll take the airline to find your luggage?” Gina asked as she took a jar of olives from the fridge. After her own discharge two years ago she’d taken a job as manager of a busy catering company and her fridge was full to the brim with gourmet goodies and leftovers.

      Charlie shook her head. “Who knows?”

      As omens went, losing the bulk of her worldly goods on the first day of civilian life wasn’t a great one. When Gina had collected her from the airport this afternoon, they’d stood and watched the luggage carousel snake round and round for a good half hour before admitting defeat and reporting the two suitcases lost.

      “Damn it,” she said as a new thought occurred. “What will I wear tonight?”

      They had stopped by a mall to allow Charlie to pick up a few bare essentials to cover her for the “twenty-four hours” the airline had predicted she’d be without her baggage, but she hadn’t even thought of buying something for tonight. She glanced down at her worn jeans, dark gray T-shirt and hiking boots. Not by any stretch of the imagination could they be considered suitable attire for the fancy-pants restaurant they had booked for dinner.

      “Relax. You can borrow something of mine.”

      Charlie surveyed her shorter, slighter friend doubtfully. “I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

      Size apart, there was also the small but important fact that she and Gina had very different taste in clothes. Charlie preferred tailored and neat and nondescript. Gina liked sparkly