The Amish Widower's Twins. Jo Ann Brown

me at www.joannbrownbooks.com. Look for my new Amish series, set in beautiful Vermont, coming soon.

      Wishing you many blessings,

       Jo Ann Brown

      Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.

      They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.

      —Lamentations 3:19–23

      For Angela Mathews.

      Thanks for being such a blessing in our lives.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Harmony Creek Hollow, New York

      “Do you sell the milch from your goats?”

      Leanna Wagler raised her left hand to acknowledge the man’s question as she continued milking Faith. The brown-and-white doe was the herd’s leader and most days waited patiently while Leanna squirted milch into the small bucket on the raised platform. Today, the goat had taken it into her head that she didn’t want to stand still.

      “Just a minute,” Leanna said without looking back. “I’m almost done.”

      It took less time than that. Drawing the pail out from under the goat, she patted Faith on the haunches, the signal the goat should jump down. Leanna set the pail on the ground and smiled as Charity, the goat who always wanted to be milked after the herd’s leader, stepped up onto the platform.

      “Sorry,” Leanna began as she turned in the direction of the man’s voice.

      She didn’t finish.

      Instead, she stared at the man standing on the other side of the fence.

      How could it be Gabriel Miller, the man who’d held her heart in his hands when she lived in Lancaster County? He’d tossed it aside to marry another woman without letting Leanna know of his plans.

      It had to be Gabriel. Who else had unruly red curls that refused to lie flat in a plain haircut? His ruddy beard, still patchy, followed the strong line of his jaw. Dark brown eyes, which she had once believed were as sweet and loyal as a puppy’s, widened as his gaze swept from the top of her kapp to the rubber boots she wore while milking.

      She fought her fingers, which wanted to wipe goat hair and stains off her apron. She didn’t need to try to look her best for a man who’d dumped her.

      A part of her didn’t want to believe the man who’d invaded her dreams, turning them to nightmares, stood in front of her. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Gabriel?”

      At the same moment, he asked, “Leanna?”

      Her heart somehow managed to leap and sink at the same time. The sound of her name in his deep, rumbling voice confirmed what she’d been trying to deny.

      The red-haired man in front of her was Gabriel Miller, and the boppli he held...

      Shock pierced her again as she looked from him to the little one who had his bright red hair. Gabriel had a kind? She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been married for about a year and a half. The baby looked to be about six months old and regarded her with curious eyes as brown as Gabriel’s.

      As brown as the boppli’s daed.

      Her heart broke as it had the day she’d learned he was going to marry Freda Girod.

      “Gute