Dear Reader
Okay, Iâll admit it. Iâm a sucker for a cowboy. I mean, really, thereâs just something about a gorgeous man in a cowboy hat that makes my heart go thump-thump-thumpity-thump. Make that man gorgeous, good-hearted and the owner of a sexy Texan drawl and I might just have to turn up the AC. Tyler Donaldson is just such a man. Ty was my first cowboy hero, but I seriously doubt heâll be my last. I had a lot of fun researching his character. Really, I did. Have I mentioned how much I love my job?
Ty and Ellieâs story also presented me with another new experience as this was my first continuity series. Working closer with my fellow Medical Romance>⢠authors was great, and I loved watching as each of our stories developed. What an amazingly talented group!
I hope you enjoy Ty and Ellieâs story as much as I enjoyed researching (grin!) and writing their story. Drop me an e-mail at [email protected] to share your thoughts about their romance, cowboys, or just to say hello.
Happy reading!
Janice
UH-UH. THERE WAS absolutely no way Dr. Eleanor Aston was wearing that itsy-bitsy, teeny-tiny scrap of sparkly spandex her sister had sent for her to wear tonight!
âTake it back,â she ordered Norma, the darling, elderly woman whoâd headed up the Aston household for over twenty years and a woman who was more like family thanâwell, than Eleanorâs biological family.
Looking out of place and uncomfortable in the hospital doctorsâ lounge where Eleanor had pulled her to talk in private, Norma shook her head. âSorry, but I canât do that. Brooke gave me specific instructions. You are to wear that dress and those shoes to the ribbon-cutting ceremony.â
Right, because she could squeeze her more than generous curves into the dress. Eleanor shuddered just at the mental image.
âIâm giving you specific instructions, too. Take it back, because even if I could squeeze into that â¦â She eyed the glitzy red dress and matching stilettos her sister had picked out. âWell, itâs not exactly my style, is it?â
Staring at Eleanor with her almost-black eyes, Norma shrugged her coat-clad shoulders. âPerhaps your sister thinks your style needs an update.â
Normaâs tone implied that Brooke wasnât the only one who thought that.
Ha. No doubt about it. Media darling Brooke Aston definitely thought her sisterâs style as ugly duckling in the midst of a family of swans should change. Mostly because Brooke thought Eleanorâs usual wardrobe of hospital scrubs to be the bottom of fashionâs totem pole.
Eleanor loved her hospital scrubs.
For so many reasons. Never had she felt more proud than when sheâd donned a pair after sheâd completed her training as a pediatrician specializing in neonatology. Plus, shapeless hospital scrubs hid a lot of body flaws.
âA lotâ being the key words. Sheâd never be a size two like Brooke and sheâd quit beating herself up over that years ago.
She eyed the scrap of fancy material again, crinkled her nose and shook her head. âIâm sorry my sister wasted your time, but you can keep the dress because Iâm not going to wear it, or those torture devices my sister calls shoes.â She glanced at her watch. âSorry to run, but Iâve got to get back to the NICU. My patients need me.â
Norma winced, but didnât look surprised by Eleanorâs answer. âBrooke wonât be happy.â
Was her baby sister ever happy with anything that didnât involve all the attention being on her? Too bad sheâd had an allergic reaction to some new beauty cream that had left her unable to bask in the limelight of Senator Cole Astonâs latest publicity project.
At least this time Eleanor agreed with how her father was spending his money. Actually, she was quite pleased, which was the only reason sheâd agreed to take Brookeâs place at the ribbon-cutting ceremony this evening. Heâd donated an exorbitant amount to build a new neonatal wing for premature babies at the Angel Mendez Childrenâs Hospital where she worked.
She loved being a part of something as wonderful as Angelâs, New Yorkâs first and finest free childrenâs hospital. Working with her preemies left her with a feeling inside that no other aspect of her life had ever achieved. She felt needed, whole, as if she made a difference. In her patientsâ familiesâ eyes, she did matter, was the most important person in their tiny babyâs world.
Her patients didnât care that she wasnât glamorous or wearing the latest Paris styles. They didnât care if her hair was plain black and always clipped tightly to her scalp in a bun. They didnât care that she never bothered with makeup or taking time to put in her contact lenses so her thick-framed glasses didnât hide her dark brown eyes.
Neither did they care that sheâd never be beautiful and svelte like her petite sister, not with her bone structure and too-generous curves that no amount of starving herself seemed to cure. So she just maintained a healthy diet and lifestyle and ignored that the media liked to point out the differences between her and her Hollywood-thin, perfectly coiffed sister.