Merry's Christmas: Two Book Set (Amish) by Rohrer Susan

Author:Rohrer, Susan [Rohrer, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services in association with Infinite Arts Media
Published: 2014-08-12T04:00:00+00:00

Leanne groaned. It figured that Hope’s absentee roommate would have one of those clock radio alarms, the kind that were practically impossible to figure out how to mute. The pre-dawn D.J. needed to dial it back, too. For a New Yorker, the guy was maddeningly perky.

No one had ever accused Leanne of being a morning person. All during her growing up years, coaxing herself to push aside the warm covers and crawl out of bed had always been something of a battle. Now that she was sleeping for two, it was that much worse. First, there was that ever so delightful impulse to hurl just as soon as the day dawned. Next came the random kidney kicking. Had to be a boy. No girl could punt like that.

The bigger she’d gotten, the harder it was to get comfortable enough to sleep a wink at all. No matter which way she turned, something ached. There was no shutting her mind down either. It kept reminding her how little time she had left to sleep. Yeah, that helped. Then—wouldn’t you know it—just after she’d finally managed to nod off, there was Dobie D.J., squawking his cock-a-doodle-doos.

Her parents were always up with the birds. That was a gene she sure hadn’t gotten. She missed them something awful. No point thinking about that. She stared at her phone, then back up at the ceiling. No way she could face them. Not with her belly the size of a hot air balloon.

Shame pummeled her. She tossed it away, but it came flying right back, like a boomerang. It taunted her constantly with its na-na-nas, calling her every ugly name in the book. The only way to shut it up was to sleep. As if that ever happened. Truth be told, she’d hardly slept at all the night before on the Café Troubadour’s freezing cold pantry floor. She closed her eyes again. At least she could soak in the warmth of the quilt and the softness of the pillow. Even the futon wasn’t half bad.

A knock sounded at the door. That had to be Hope.

Moan.

Hope knocked again, this time a little louder. “Are you up?”

Leanne relished a last moment of comfort before throwing the covers back. “Not exactly, but I’m getting there.”

Hope’s voice carried through the door. “There’s a terry robe of mine in the closet you can borrow.”

“Thanks. Like it’ll fit over this spare tire I’ve got goin’.” As much as her lower back smarted, Leanne forced herself to sit up. She yawned groggily, and then rose to her swollen feet. The apartment smelled of fresh-brewed coffee, no doubt the caffeinated kind that she wasn’t supposed to drink. Nothing about having this kid was easy. Absolutely nothing.

Leanne opened the door and shuffled into the kitchen. Hope was already up and dressed, hustling about, a whirlwind of energy, despite the early hour. It wasn’t easy to know how to behave in someone else’s home, but Hope seemed to make nothing of it. Maybe she shouldn’t either.

Before

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