A Heart for the Dropped Stitches (Sisterhood Series #3) (Love Inspired #451) (Mass Market Paperback)

by Janet Tronstad (Author)

Editorial Reviews

Product Description
I've met Mr. Could-Be-Right-If-I-Understood-Him. What do I, future lawyer Becca Snyder, have in common with Mark Russo? The man gave up big bucks and the finer things in life to run a shelter for homeless teens. Thing is, I can't stop thinking about Mark and those needy kids.

How much a smile means to them. And how meaningless my own plans suddenly seem. My friends in the Sisterhood of the Dropped Stitches are thrilled with the new and more giving me. But will Mark see that I've changed for the better and open his heart to me?

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable."

—The Wizard of Oz, speaking to the Tin Man

I have always refused to let my heart be broken.

During one of the first meetings of the Sisterhood of the Dropped Stitches, our counselor, Rose, brought us this quote. We were just getting to know each other, but we already could see that we each had our own way of dealing with tears. Lizabett Macdonald, the youngest of us at fifteen, cried the easiest. Both Marilee Davidson and Carly Winston, the two oldest at nineteen and eighteen, would blink back their tears for as long as they could and then they'd let them fall. As for me, sixteen-year-old Becca Snyder, I never cried. Not ever.

The four of us were all teenagers when we got our cancer diagnoses, and everyone expected us to constantly spill our emotions and our tears. I hated that. I knew I had emotions—the fear of death made that very clear— but I had no intention of giving in to them, not even when everyone started to think I really was the Tin Man.

In my opinion, we didn't need to dig into our feelings and cry; we needed to figure out the rules to survive this thing that was eating us alive. It was bad enough that Rose had organized us into a knitting group; I refused to go all girlie with the tears.

I couldn't think when I was crying.

Seven years have passed since we first read that quote, but right now the rest of the Sisterhood is staring at me the way they did that night—like I, Becca, am their very own personal Tin Man. Only this time they're all flushed and proud because they think I've reached inside my tin-man armor and found a heart beating with romance.

I wish it were that simple.

I carefully set down my knitting needles. We're sitting around the table at one of our weekly Sisterhood meetings and I need to set everyone straight on my love life, or lack thereof. "Mark Russo is not my boyfriend. Not even close. He's my boss. Big difference. The only reason I mentioned how he looks is because of the girls."

I've learned over the years that most people don't see things in black and white like I do, and I'm trying to be sensitive to that. Sometimes I wish I could just follow my heart, but I can't. For me, boss and boyfriend don't mix at the best of times, and, with my life right now, I can't see myself dating anyway. It's not that I'm worried about dying or anything—all of the siste