The One Man to Heal Her

The One Man to Heal Her
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Single dad to her rescue!Dr Alexandra Hudson’s homecoming is bittersweet. She’s still scarred by her family’s rejection, and it’s a comfort to find her childhood friend Will Kent. Except she’s overwhelmed by her attraction to the handsome widower – feelings she never expected to have again!Will is shocked that the gorgeous new cardiologist is the girl from next door – and by his desire to keep her safe in his arms! But now he has a toddler to protect, too. He’ll gladly offer Alex a whole new life… if she’ll risk being part of a brand-new family!

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‘Mills & Boon Medical Romance™ favourite Meredith Webber has penned a spellbinding and moving tale set under the hot desert sun!’

—CataRomance on The Desert Prince’s Convenient Bride

‘Meredith Webber has written an outstanding romantic tale that I devoured in a single sitting—moving, engrossing, romantic and absolutely un-putdownable! Ms Webber peppers her story with plenty of drama, emotion and passion, and she will keep her readers entranced until the final page.’

—CataRomance on A Pregnant Nurse’s Christmas Wish

‘Meredith Webber does a beautiful job as she crafts one of the most unique romances I’ve read in a while. Reading a tale by Meredith Webber is always a pleasure, and The Heart Surgeon’s Baby Surprise is no exception!’

—Book Illuminations on The Heart Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

MEREDITH WEBBER says of herself, ‘Once I read an article which suggested that Mills & Boon were looking for new Medical Romance™ authors. I had one of those “I can do that” moments, and gave it a try. What began as a challenge has become an obsession—though I do temper the “butt on seat” career of writing with dirty but healthy outdoor pursuits, fossicking through the Australian Outback in search of gold or opals. Having had some success in all of these endeavours, I now consider I’ve found the perfect lifestyle.’

The One Man

to Heal Her

Meredith Webber


www.millsandboon.co.uk

The idea for this book came when I was on a short writing retreat with a group of fellow writers who have been going away—as many as can get together—once a year for about nine years now.

We work in the morning, walk the beach—brave ones swim—usually lunch together, and then have brainstorming sessions or discussions on topics we’ve already decided on over lunch and into mid-afternoon. We break into smaller groups, or go off on our own, until ‘wine o’clock’, when we once again get together. These sessions are usually the most productive in producing ideas. Often they’re wild ideas—but even wild ideas can be tamed and brought together in a book.

Such is the way of some books, and it took nine months’ gestation before this one finally came together in its current form—so I hope this particular baby is as good as the making of it was.

Meredith Webber

For all the Maytoners, who keep me going.

ALEX SAT HUDDLED on a red plastic chair against the wall of the ER room. A woman doctor she vaguely recognised had come towards her earlier but had whisked away when a rush of ambulance cases had been brought in, and now, two hours later, Alex still sat, a little more hunched over, exhaustion having caused her to nod off so several times she’d nearly fallen off the chair.

Twice a male nurse had approached, but, unable to stand the thought of a man touching her, she’d shrunk back and lied, saying she was waiting for someone.

Then the woman doctor she’d seen earlier must have cleared the urgent patients and approached once again.

‘Are you here for treatment?’ she asked gently.

Alex nodded, not sure she would be able to speak, let alone move, so thick was the cloud of despair and unhappiness that enveloped her.

The doctor knelt and reached out to touch Alex’s cheek, brushing at the tears that kept dripping out of her eyes no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

She wondered what the doctor would make of her pathetic behaviour. Probably assume she was a street kid, although would a street kid be wearing clean clothes?

‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’

The question focussed Alex’s mind.

‘I’m bleeding.’

She whispered the words, and heard the huskiness of fear and shame in them—saw the doctor’s look of shock—wondered what the doctor would think …

‘I’m Dr Isobel Armitage,’ the woman said gently. ‘Come with me and I’ll see what I can do to help you.’

She took Alex’s hand, pressed her fingers reassuringly, and led her to a cubicle, pausing only to draw the curtains around it.

The male nurse who’d offered assistance earlier eased through the gap in the curtains. The doctor must have felt Alex cringe and try to hide behind her because she turned and hugged her tightly, asking the nurse to leave them.

‘She wouldn’t talk to me earlier,’ he complained, but the woman called Isobel just shooed him away.

‘Are you feeling well enough to tell me who you are? Answer a few questions?’

Alex nodded, and somehow managed to supply her name, Alexandra Hudson, and age, sixteen, but when she came to an address the courage that had shored her up to actually get to the hospital deserted her and she burst into tears.

Once again the doctor held her while she cried, then poked her head outside the door to ask some unseen person to bring in tea with plenty of sugar.

‘A hot drink will do you good,’ Isobel said, passing the box of tissues to Alex before wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around her arm. Isobel talked as she worked, making notes on a chart that still had no address on it.



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