Susanne Hampton - A Mummy To Make Christmas

Dear Reader Dear Reader Dear Reader About the Author Title Page Acknowledgements CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE EPILOGUE Copyright , In this Christmas story my heroine, Dr Phoebe Johnson, declares that ‘all men are the same’ as she leaves her old life behind, choosing to focus on her career and forget about love. A cheating fiancé gives her no choice but to leave Washington or spend her life reliving the humiliation and heartbreak. Many have experienced disappointment or heartbreak and muttered the very same words—although few have discovered on the eve of their wedding that their fiancé has slept with both bridesmaids! But poor Phoebe has, and it sends her packing to Australia in search of a quiet place to mend her heart and pride, burying herself in work with an older surgical mentor Dr Ken Rollins. But the universe has other plans … and those plans materialise into the very handsome Dr Heath Rollins, who has stepped in to replace his injured father for one month. Despite Phoebe and Heath feeling an attraction, neither is looking for a relationship or anything close to it. Phoebe and Heath’s journey to happily-ever-after is about: • The need to bend rules and occasionally break them completely—particularly when true love is at stake • Not judging all people on the actions of just one person • Accepting that Christmas is a magical time and about so much more than tinsel and baubles … it’s about love and family I hope you enjoy Phoebe and Heath’s love story, and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas filled with love! Warmest regards, Susanne

About the Author Married to the man she met at eighteen, SUSANNE HAMPTON is the mother of two adult daughters—one a musician and the other an artist. Susanne loves everything romantic and pretty, so her home is brimming with romance novels, movies and shoes. With her interest in all things medical, her career has been in the dental field and the medical world in different roles—and now Susanne has taken that love into writing Mills & Boon Medical Romance.

Title Page A Mummy to Make Christmas Susanne Hampton www.millsandboon.co.uk

Acknowledgements As I was putting the final touches to this book I was given the news that my amazing editor Charlotte was moving along her career pathway and would no longer be working with me. So this will be my final dedication to her and my last written recognition of her guidance, patience, much needed honesty and unwavering belief in my work. However, what I have learnt from her over the last five books will travel with me on my writing journey, so in many ways all of my books and writing success in the future will be a dedication to Charlotte Mursell. Thank you, Charlotte.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Copyright

DR HEATH ROLLINS momentarily looked away from the emails on his laptop computer, across the living room of the family home, to see his father sitting by the lace dressed bay window in his favourite armchair. With the mid-morning sunlight streaming into the room, he was intently reading the paper. Heath smiled a bittersweet smile as his gaze roamed to the old oversized chair, upholstered in green and blue tartan. It was a piece of furniture his mother had tried to have re-covered or removed from their home for many years but Ken Rollins had been adamant that it stayed. And stayed exactly as it was. It was a Clan Sutherland tartan, of the Highland Clans of Scotland, Heath would hear his father tell his mother, and it had direct links to the maternal side of his family. She would tell him that family connections or not, it was an extremely unattractive chair that looked out of place in their new French provincial decor. Frankly, it was hideous and it just didn’t belong.

His mother and father had argued about very little except that chair. But, unlike all those years ago, now his father was stuck in that now slightly worn chair for hours on end, his leg elevated and his knee freshly dressed after surgery. And there were no more arguments about the chair as Heath’s mother had passed away twenty years ago.

Heath then caught sight of his own suitcases, stacked against the hall wall, with the airline tags still intact. He would shortly be taking them to the room that would be his for the next month. His attention returned to the email he was drafting to the Washington-based podiatric surgeon travelling to Australia to work with his father. As he perused her résumé to find an email address, he couldn’t help but notice her impressive qualifications and certifications. A quizzical frown dressed his brow as he wondered why she had chosen to relocate to Adelaide and consult at his father’s practice. Then he dropped that line of thought. It was not his concern.

‘I hope you don’t mind the last-minute change in plans, Dr Phoebe Johnson,’ he muttered as he pressed ‘send’ on the keyboard, hoping that even if she had turned off her computer she would receive the notification via her mobile phone. ‘It looks like you’ll be working with me not my father. At least until he’s back on his feet again.’

Phoebe Johnson had switched off her cell phone an hour earlier. There was no point in having it on as there was only one person who would try to reach her and she would go to any lengths to avoid another conversation with her mother.

Unfortunately her mother had found her.

‘Why on earth are you leaving Washington? It’s been over three months since you postponed the wedding, Phoebe. It’s time you set a new date.’

‘I cancelled the wedding, Mother. I didn’t postpone it.’

Completely dumbfounded, and shaking her head, Phoebe stood on the steps of her rented brownstone apartment, her online printed boarding pass and her passport both gripped in one leather-gloved hand while the other searched for keys in her oversized handbag. The second of her matching tweed suitcases was balanced precariously by her feet, and her heavy woollen coat was buttoned up against the icy December wind that was howling down the narrow car-lined street.

She found her keys and, aware that the meter was running on the double-parked cab, hurriedly locked the front door. She was in no mood for another confrontation and frustrated that at the eleventh hour it was happening again. Her mind was made up. She was not looking back.

‘How can you work things out if you go rushing off to another country? Surely you’ve punished Giles enough for his indiscretion?’ her mother continued, not at all deterred by anything Phoebe had said, nor by her imminent travel plans. ‘I’m certain he’s learnt his lesson.’

Phoebe tugged down her knitted hat, at risk of blowing away in a chilly gust, then made her way down the snow-speckled steps with her last suitcase and handed it to the cab driver, who had been tapping his foot impatiently on the kerb.

‘It isn’t a punishment, Mother. I ended it. I gave the ring back, returned the wedding presents and told Giles that I never want to see him again. It’s about as final as it gets. And I’ve thought this through until I’ve gone almost mad. You don’t seem to understand—I no longer love Giles and I don’t want to see him again. Ever. To be honest, I’m surprised that after everything he’s put me through you’d want him to have any part in my life.’

She paused as she looked long and hard at her mother, completely bemused that they saw the situation so very differently.