PROLOGUE

They could have been cherubim, looking down from a celestial mural painted on the gilded ceiling of a Renaissance cathedral. Two plump, stunningly beautiful babies—a boy and a girl with chubby pink cheeks, rosebud mouths and intelligent, thoughtful faces—sat side by side on the puffy white cloud, arguing, as they had been for what seemed an eternity.

“So what’s the holdup?” the baby boy complained. “We’ve been hanging around here forever.”

“This isn’t such a bad place to be,” the baby girl said, pointing out what she’d already told him time and time again.

“It was fun in the beginning. Flying around and playing hide-and-seek in the clouds.” His rosy mouth pouted. “But New Year’s Eve’s coming, and I’m going to make a resolution.”

“We don’t make resolutions.”

“But mortals do. So, that’s my resolution. To be mortal.”

It was, she admitted secretly, a wonderfully appealing resolution. “These things take time.” Unfortunately, in their case, an extraordinarily long time. She couldn’t even count the number of children who’d passed them by and were now living happily with their new parents.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying. But I’m tired of always being reminded to polish my wings. And my halo’s too tight.”

“That’s because it’s crooked. Again.” With a sister’s tolerance, she straightened the gleaming band of light.

“On earth a guy doesn’t have to worry about any stupid halo,” he grumbled.

“On earth a boy can’t fly.”

“I know.” Sunlight glinted blindingly off his short wings as he shrugged, giving her that point. “But there’s lots of other neat stuff to do. Like playing baseball, and riding bikes, and going camping—”

It was her turn to make a face. “Camping’s dirty.”

“It’s fun.”

“There are bugs and snakes.”

“That’s what makes it fun, silly.” He sighed and shook his head, which resulted in the halo tilting askew again. “I don’t understand why we have to keep hanging around up here. How long can it take to find us parents?”

“Our mother’s already been selected,” she reminded him in that superior way little girls often adopted when speaking to lesser beings—boys. “But before we can be born, we need a dad.” It was her turn to sigh. “Unfortunately, it’s taking longer than expected to find him.”

The sad truth was that Shiloh Beauregard had horrendous luck with men. The one last summer had run over her cat. Unfortunately, it had not been an accident. The man before him—an express mail pilot—had conveniently neglected to mention he had a wife and three children tucked away in a two-story brick house in suburban Des Moines. And the one before that…well, the girl didn’t even want to think about him!

“So what’s wrong with the guy our mom’s dating now?” the boy argued. Like his earthly young counterparts, patience was not his strong suit.

“He’s not right for her.”

“I think she’s being too picky.”

Pale blond curls bounced as she shook her head in frustration. “As usual, you just don’t understand…. Here. See for yourself.”

With a single wave of her chubby little hand, the girl parted the white cotton-candy clouds, allowing them to look down on the physical world they were both so eager to join.