Welcome

 

 

Hello, All!  

My newest release, HER CHRISTMAS BABY BUMP is out today, November 1st!  It’s part of a four-book continuity, Midwives On-Call at Christmas with three other authors. 

One Christmas night with consequences!

Talented midwife Hope Sanders’s dream of holding a baby of her own is finally coming true! She’s just weeks away from beginning her fertility treatment–and then meeting gorgeous hotshot fertility doc Aaron Cartwright throws a holly sprig in her plans…

Aaron’s mistletoe kisses might be dazzling, but after they spend one magical Christmas night together, Hope never expects to end up pregnant! Now she’s faced with telling Aaron her surprise baby news…but has she finally found the man of her dreams, too?

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Read an excerpt:

Excerpt from Chapter Two, HER CHRISTMAS BABY BUMP

     His deliciously male body radiating heat like a furnace, the way his big hand caught and held hers against his muscular chest, the deep, sexy rumble of his voice in her ear, all had combined to steal every molecule of breath from her lungs and, apparently, all sense from her brain as well. How else could she explain asking him—a second time, as though she really needed to know—what his best talent was?

      Lord. She swallowed, embarrassment seeping through her body, adding to the heat that had nearly sent her up in flames. She stepped off the dance floor with him fluidly moving next to her and opened her mouth to say something, anything, that could possibly make him forget her last question, when he spoke.

     “Punting.”

     She stared up at him blankly. “Punting?”

     “Maybe not my best talent, but yes, I’m very good at it.”

     A nervous and relieved laugh escaped her throat. Thank heavens he wasn’t going to take her up on her unfortunate innuendo. “You already told me you’re good at kicking a football…er…soccer ball to Americans. Unless you mean gambling?”

     “I never gamble. At least, not with money.” He slid her a teasing look, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners messed with her breathing all over again. “The punting I’m referring to is in a boat. You may think only Cambridge residents and tourists enjoy lazily shoving themselves down a river, but we’ve been doing it back home for centuries, too.”

     “And where is back home?” Since the midwives liked to talk about the various handsome men in the hospital, she knew he was American and from California, but not much other than that.”

     “Northern California. Wine country.”

     “Wine country? And here I’d assumed being from California that you were a surfer dude.”

     His eyes twinkled as the crinkles around them got deeper. “I’ve surfed, but I don’t think that moniker fits me. And do you have any idea how adorable the words ‘surfer dude’ sound in your wonderful British accent?”

     “I don’t have an accent. You’re the one with an accent.” Which she found incredibly sexy, she had to admit, but wasn’t about to say that and embarrass herself all over again.

     “If you say so.” He leaned closer. “But please let me hear you say ‘surfer dude’ one more time.”

     She laughed and felt her face heat again, but this time she had a feeling it was from his closeness, and how wonderful he smelled and looked, and how it all made her heart beat a little faster. “So people punt in wine country? Are there little canals between the vineyards?” she joked.

     “Yes. They’re filled with grape juice.” His wink and grin were so charming, she had a bad feeling she might swoon for real next time she saw him at the hospital, requiring a hefty dose of smelling salts[…]”“The punting I did back home was in Denver, Colorado, where I went to med school. Learned on Cherry Creek, and eventually raced. All the punting here is one of the reasons I liked the idea of working in Cambridge for a while.”

     “I find it hard to believe you consider punting a talent. I mean, how difficult could it be to shove a boat down a river with a pole?”

     “You live here and don’t know the answer to that?” He stared at her. “Punting takes a lot of practice. And it’s excellent exercise. Surely you’ve tried it?”

     “Well, no actually. I’ve been on the River Cam many times in the punts, but always had someone else manning the pole. Should I be embarrassed to admit that, since I was born and raised here?”

     “This is shocking. And also unacceptable.” He shook his head as his warm palm slid down her arm to grasp her elbow, propelling her across the room. “I assume you have a coat checked?”

     “Yes, but—”

     “Do you have a car here?”

     “No, I came with another midwife from the hospital. I—”

     “Good.” They stopped at the coat check closet and he held out his hand. “May I have your ticket?”

     She fumbled in her evening bag for it, wondering what in the world he was up to, and why she was getting out the ticket and giving it to him when she had no idea as to the answer. “The party’s only half over. Are you throwing me out because I’m a shame to the CRMU and the entire city of Cambridge?”

     He flashed her a devastating smile. “You, Hope Sanders, are obviously a shining star. Which is also why we have to fix this problem immediately. I’m taking you to the River Cam for a little punting lesson.”