Praise for Melanie Milburne:
‘An outstanding read, TOP-NOTCH DOC, OUTBACK BRIDE by Melanie Milburne is a contemporary story that heals the soul and romances the heart. I love Ms Milburne’s style of writing, and kudos to her for another wonderful story.’
—Cataromance
Melanie Milburne also writes for Modern™ Romance!
‘THE FIORENZA FORCED MARRIAGE by Melanie Milburne: insults fly, passion explodes, and it all adds up to an engaging story about the power of love.’
—RT Book Reviews
IT WAS the third day in a row that someone had parked in Erin’s spot. Not only had they parked there arrogantly, they had done so crookedly, taking up so much space she had to manoeuvre her car into the space near the garbagedisposal unit, which she knew would almost certainly result in a scratch or two on her shiny paintwork.
She rummaged in her handbag for a piece of paper and a pen, and then, glancing around for a flat surface, whooshed out a breath and leaned on the rogue-parker’s bonnet to pen her missive: you are in the wrong spot!
Erin tucked the note behind one of the windscreen wipers and made her way to the elevator. She tapped her right foot impatiently as she watched the numbers light up as it came down from the fifteenth floor. After a ten-hour shift in the emergency department of Sydney Metropolitan, the only thing she wanted was the quiet, safe sanctuary of her apartment. Her ears were still ringing from the shattered cries of a middle-aged mother who had lost her only son to a fatal stab-wound—yet another drug deal gone wrong.
The doors of the elevator glided open and she came face to face with a tall man who was wearing blue denim jeans and a white T-shirt that had a dust smear over the right shoulder. He was carrying an empty cardboard box and he smiled at her crookedly as he stepped out. ‘Moving in,’ he explained with a flash of perfect white teeth.
Erin lifted her chin and gave him a gimlet glare. ‘Is that your car in my parking space?’
Something hardened in his green gaze and his smile flatlined. ‘I was not aware there were designated parking spaces.’
Her chin went a little higher. ‘The numbers are painted on the ground. A blind man could see them.’
One of his dark brows lifted along with his top lip, as if controlled by the same muscle. ‘You must be the woman from 1503,’ he said, rocking back on his heels slightly. ‘I was warned about you.’
Erin felt her hackles rise like the fur of a cornered cat. ‘I beg your pardon?’
His eyes moved over her rigid form with indolent ease. ‘Erin Taylor, right?’
She tightened her mouth. ‘That’s correct.’
He smiled a smile that was borderline mocking. ‘My landlord told me all about you.’
‘Oh, really?’ She affected a bored, uninterested tone.
‘Yes,’ he said, placing the box on the concrete floor. ‘You’re a doctor at Sydney Metropolitan.’
Erin mentally rolled her eyes. Here comes another free car-park consultation, she thought. No doubt he thought he could weasel a flu shot out of her, like one of her neighbours had tried to do as soon as autumn had kicked in last month. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said crisply. ‘And right now I am off duty, so if you’ll excuse me?’