Building Dreams. Ginna Gray
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Dear Reader
We’ve all heard that pregnant women “glow.” I’ve actually heard some men say that they thought their wives were even more beautiful and sexy when pregnant. Thinking about that, I wondered if a man could fall in love with a woman who was expecting a child.
From that point, what I call “the what ifs” kicked in. What if he was a man who loved kids and had wanted a big family? A man who had been raised in a large, happy family? What if he’d been married before and had a son, but his wife had run away with another man, abandoning him and the boy and leaving him bitter—against women and marriage? What if circumstances (with a little help from his son) throw the heroine and hero together?
From such thoughts, dear reader, a book begins to take shape. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Happy reading!
GINNA GRAY
A native Texan, Ginna Gray lived in Houston all her life until 1993, when she and her husband, Brad, built their “dream home” and moved to the mountains of Colorado. Coming from a large, Irish/American family, in which spinning colorful yarns was commonplace, made writing a natural career choice for Ginna. “I grew up hearing so many fascinating tales, I was eleven or twelve before I realized that not everyone made up stories,” Ginna says. She sold her first novel in 1983 and has been working as a full-time writer ever since. She has also given many lectures and writing workshops and judged in writing contests. The mother of two grown daughters, Ginna also enjoys other creative activities, such as oil painting, sewing, sketching, knitting and needlepoint.
Books by Ginna Gray
Silhouette Special Edition
Golden Illusion #171
The Heart’s Yearning #265
Sweet Promise #320
Cristin’s Choice #373
*Fools Rush In #416
*Where Angels Fear #468
If There Be Love #528
*Once in a Lifetime #661
*A Good Man Walks In #722
*Building Dreams #792
*Forever #854
*Always #891
The Bride Price #973
Alissa’s Miracle #1117
*Meant for Each Other #1221
†A Man Apart #1330
†In Search of Dreams #1340
†The Ties that Bind #1395
Silhouette Romance
The Gentling #285
The Perfect Match #311
Heart of the Hurricane #338
Images #352
First Love, Last Love #374
The Courtship of Dani #417
Sting of the Scorpion #826
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Stories1987
“Season of Miracles”
Wanted: Mother1996
“Soul Mates”
Building Dreams
Ginna Gray
Contents
Chapter One
It was too quiet.
The thought struck Ryan McCall halfway up the stairs, and he paused, his expression puzzled. Normally by that point he could hear rock music rattling the walls of his apartment. Or, at the very least, the television blaring. His son rarely did anything in moderation.
Ryan trotted up the remaining steps, curious but not particularly alarmed.
The first vestige of the latter feeling came a moment later when he unlocked his door and opened it to a dark apartment. Stepping inside, Ryan flipped on the living room lights and checked his watch. It was only nine—too early for Mike to be in bed. Maybe he had fallen asleep watching television in his room.
“Mike! You here?”
There was no answer. Frowning, Ryan tossed the mail onto the coffee table and strode across the room, heading for the door that led into the bedroom hallway. “Hey, Mike! Where are you?”
His son’s room was empty. The bed, on which the boy wallowed periodically throughout the day, was made up in Mike’s usual haphazard manner but it showed no sign of having been touched.
The room was crammed with a thirteen-year-old boy’s clutter. A catcher’s mitt and a bat and ball lay on the desk, along with dozens of baseball cards, two crushed soft drink cans, a deflated football, a pair of dirty socks, a pocket electronic game, and an assortment of candy wrappers, rocks and scraps of paper. A squadron of model airplanes hung from the ceiling and another half-finished aircraft sat on a sheet of newspaper in the middle of the floor. In a pile in the corner, where Mike had tossed them, were a torn kite, a Frisbee and a skateboard. A ratty sneaker with a hole in the toe lay on its side beside the bed. Yet, for all its messiness,