The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli

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The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli


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his body pressed tight to hers, thumb brushing back and forth over her bare hip. A shiver went through her.

      God, she loved this man. No matter where the future took them, she wanted to be right in the middle of it.

      “Does this mean you’re not moving on to guy number six any time soon?” The low gravelly tones slid across her temple, carrying more than a hint of possessiveness.

      “Mmm. I’ll think about it.”

      The hand caressing her hip dropped a quick slap to her butt.

      “Oww. Okay. No more men.” She blinked as the stinging in her backside morphed into a wave of heat that washed over her. “Although your reaction to that was kind of hot.”

      Something came to life against the swell of her bottom.

      “Woman, you are going to be the death of me.”

      She rolled onto her other side. “What about the storm? Are you sure you don’t need to go back? I’ll go with you.” She touched his face. “Because I want to. Not because I have to. My dad is getting married in a few months, and I’ve already talked to him about finding a replacement for me.”

      “I still have a few things to work out in my head, and you need to know what you’re getting into. I’ve struggled over the last four years.”

      “It’s okay. We have plenty of time to figure things out. It doesn’t even matter where we end up.”

      He drew her closer. “For now, I just want to ride out the storm here at the lodge. With you.”

      “Emphasis on the riding part, I hope.”

      “Mira!” He gave a half-strangled laugh that lit her up inside.

      She snuggled back against him. “I guess this means I owe Ellory a hundred bucks. She bet I wouldn’t make it past man number five without falling for him.”

      Jack turned her over and took her mouth in a long kiss that had her clinging to him, breathless for more. “A hundred bucks, huh? Not sure I’m worth that kind of money.”

      She reached beneath the covers and found him, already hard and ready.

      “Well, then,” she said. “I guess you’d better start earning your keep.”

      She stroked him once and then again, relishing the low groan of pleasure he gave at her touch.

      “Mmm...I think I could get used to this.” He rolled her beneath him and parted her legs. “How long do you think it’ll take me to pay off that debt?”

      She arched into him, her own need beginning to rise out of control. “How does forever sound?”

      * * * * *

A Date with Her Valentine Doc

      A VALENTINE TO REMEMBER One day they will never forget!

      A DATE WITH HER VALENTINE DOC by Melanie Milburne

      Bertie Clark really shouldn’t be fantasising about Dr Matt Bishop—he’s her boss, and is 100% off-limits! But, working on the hospital’s St Valentine’s Day Ball with him, Bertie knows she can’t ignore the sparks flying around for ever—surely a girl deserves a little fun?

       Dear Reader

      The question I am asked most frequently is: Where do you get your ideas? It’s not always easy to answer as inspiration for stories can be a deeply subconscious thing and I often don’t have a clue where the idea came from. But in the case of Bertie and Matt’s story I know exactly what inspired it.

      On St Valentine’s Day in 2014 I was interviewed on national television about ‘How to Write a BestSelling Romance Novel’. One of the panel hosts, Joe Hildebrand, had recently published An Average Joe, a memoir of his quirky childhood, and I just happened to be reading it at the time of the interview—which was kind of spooky! But then, Bertie’s mother would say that was the stars or the planets aligning, or something. :)

      Last year I was asked to write a short story for The Australian Review of Fiction (the first romance author ever to contribute—yay!). I wrote EM AND EM in the first person and couldn’t wait to do it again in a full novel, so when my lovely editor Flo Nicoll offered me a chance to write a special St Valentine’s Day book I jumped at it—but on the proviso that I could do it in the first person.

      I hope you enjoy Bertie and Matt’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. BTW—watch out for Bertie’s sister Jem’s story, coming soon in Mills & Boon® Medical Romance!

      Best wishes

      Melanie Milburne x

      From as soon as MELANIE MILBURNE could pick up a pen she knew she wanted to write. It was when she picked up her first Mills & Boon® at seventeen that she realised she wanted to write romance. After being distracted for a few years by meeting and marrying her own handsome hero, surgeon husband Steve, and having two boys, plus completing a master’s of education and becoming a nationally ranked athlete (masters swimming), she decided to write. Five submissions later she sold her first book and is now a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning USA TODAY author. In 2008 she won the Australian Readers’ Association most popular category/series romance, and in 2011 she won the prestigious Romance Writers of Australia R*BY award.

      Melanie loves to hear from her readers via her website, www.melaniemilburne.com.au, or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/melanie.milburne

      Each year I am part of the silent auction for the Heart Foundation in Tasmania. I offer a book dedication and this year’s winner was Maria Chung, who wanted this book to be dedicated to her husband:

       Dr Stephen Chung, a wonderful husband, father and doctor.

      Thank you to both of you for your continued support of the Heart Foundation in Tasmania.

      MM

       CHAPTER ONE

      THE FIRST THING I saw when I walked into the ICU office on my first day back to work after my honeymoon was my postcard pinned to the noticeboard. Well, it was supposed to be my honeymoon. I’d booked the leave for months ahead. It’s hard to get three weeks off in a row at St Ignatius, especially before Christmas. There are a lot of working mums at St Iggy’s and I always feel guilty if I’m stuffing up someone’s plan to be at their little kid’s Christmas concert. Which was why I hadn’t come back to work until the ‘honeymoon’ was over, so to speak.

      My postcard was right in the centre of the noticeboard. In pride of place. Flashing like a beacon. The last time I’d seen it had been in my chalet room at the ski resort in Italy, along with two others I’d written to my elderly neighbours. I swear I hadn’t actually intended to post them. It had been a therapeutic exercise my mother had suggested to rid myself of negative energy, but the super-efficient housekeeping staff must have seen them lying on the desk and helpfully posted them for me. That’s service for you.

      If I turned that wretched postcard around I would see the lies I’d scrawled there after consuming a lonely cocktail or two … actually, I think it was three. All went amazingly well! Having an awesome time!

      Now that I look back with twenty-twenty hindsight I can see all the signs. The red flags and the faintly ringing alarm bells I ignored at the time. I hate to sound like a cliché but I really was the last person to know. My mother said she knew the


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