Abigail Gordon - Christmas Magic In Heatherdale

Dear Reader

Would you like to come with me to a small and enchanting market town to read about the lives and loves of a charismatic man who thinks he has all his priorities right—until he meets a beautiful woman whose life has become a hurtful catastrophe due to the unkindness of others?

If so, do please read on.

With best wishes

Abigail Gordon

Dear Reader

One of the questions I am asked most frequently is where do I get my ideas for a book? I usually reply that they come from conversations I’ve overheard or from something I have read in the newspapers and this book is the perfect example of that. I was having coffee in town when I overheard two women talking about IVF. One of their daughters was undergoing IVF treatment and this lady was worried in case something went wrong. As she said to her friend, wouldn’t it be awful if the wrong embryo was implanted? It immediately piqued my interest.

I kept thinking about what would happen if a woman discovered that the child she had given birth to wasn’t actually hers. Of course these things rarely happen, but what an intriguing scenario for a story…

On the surface, Mia and Leo are poles apart. Mia was brought up in care and has had to work hard to earn her living, whereas Leo comes from a wealthy family and has always enjoyed the finer things in life. What unites them is the fact that each is determined to protect their child. Discovering that Harry and Noah were born to the wrong mothers is a huge shock for them both but they are determined not to let it affect the boys. they intend to do all they can to help the children cope with a very difficult situation and make their plans accordingly. What they don’t plan on happening is that they will fall in love in the process. Dare they follow their hearts? Or could they end up upsetting the boys even more? It’s another dilemma they need to resolve.

I hope you enjoy Mia and Leo’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you would like to learn more about my books then do visit my blog: Jennifertaylorauthor.wordpress.com. I love hearing from readers so pop in and leave a message.

Best wishes

Jennifer

ABIGAIL GORDONloves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Robert Bonar, a good friend and the kindest of men.

Cover

Title Page Christmas Magic in Heatherdale Abigail Gordon www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author ABIGAIL GORDON loves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.

Dedication For Robert Bonar, a good friend and the kindest of men.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

EMPLOYED AS A paediatric consultant at Heatherdale Children’s Hospital, Ryan Ferguson was used to the demands of the job, but today had been in a class of its own. Relieved to finally be away from work he pulled up outside the elegant town house that was home to him and his two small daughters.

Rhianna and Martha would be fast asleep at this late hour, but he was grateful that they would have been tucked up for the night by Mollie, his kindly housekeeper, who in spite of the time would have a meal waiting for him.

Ryan’s work centred mainly on children with neurological illnesses and injuries and his dedication to his calling was an accepted fact by all who knew him. His intention to bring up his children as a single father was more of a surprise, as there were many women who would be only too willing to fill the gap in his life.

Today’s non-stop problems had been serious and in some cases rare, with almost a certainty that the dreaded meningitis would be lurking somewhere amongst his young patients and the battle to overthrow it would begin.

With the workload as heavy as it was, it was becoming obvious that they needed another registrar on the neuro unit to assist him and Julian Tindall, his second-in-command.

A rare shortage of nursing staff due to a bug that had been going round hadn’t helped, and as he’d performed his daily miracles the hours had galloped past. Now he was ready to put the day’s stresses to the back of his mind and enjoy the warmth and peace of his home for a few hours. Home was in the delightful small spa town of Heatherdale, tucked away amongst the rugged peaks and smooth green dales of the countryside, with Manchester being the nearest big city.

The moment he was out of the car and had collected his briefcase from the back seat he moved swiftly towards where warmth and hot food would be waiting for him, casting a brief glance in the direction of the property next to it as he did so, and his step slowed.

A town house like his own, it had been empty for years and he was amazed to see a car parked outside and a flicker of light coming from inside, as if from a torch or a candle. He frowned. He doubted it was thieves, as there would be nothing in there to steal. Could be squatters, though, and the thought was not appealing.

When his housekeeper opened the door to him she couldn’t wait to tell him the latest neighbourhood news. When she’d returned from picking the children up from school there had been the car parked outside, and shortly afterwards a bed had been delivered from a nearby furniture store.

‘Wow!’ he exclaimed as he closed the door behind him. ‘Surely they’ve had it cleaned first? It must be filthy after being empty for so many years. The amount of lighting inside has to mean that they’ve not had the electricity switched on and are using candles or a torch. It seems an odd state of affairs. Once I’ve changed into something less formal, I’ll do the neighbourly thing and go and introduce myself, ask if there is anything I can assist them with.’

When he knocked on the door of the run-down house that was a blight in the crescent of much-admired Victorian town houses there was no sound for a moment. Then the door swung open slowly and his jaw dropped at the sight of a slender stranger with long dark hair that swung gently against her shoulders and a face blotched with weeping.