Louisa George - One Month to Become a Mum

A lifelong reader of most genres, LOUISA GEORGEdiscovered romance novels later than most, but immediately fell in love with the intensity of emotion, the high drama and the family focus of Mills & Boon ®Medical ™Romance.

With a Bachelors Degree in Communication and a nursing qualification under her belt, writing Medical Romance seemed a natural progression—the perfect combination of her two interests. And making things up is a great way to spend the day!

An English ex-pat, Louisa now lives north of Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two teenage sons and two male cats. Writing romance is her opportunity to covertly inject a hefty dose of pink into her heavily testosterone-dominated household. When she’s not writing or researching Louisa loves to spend time with her family and friends, enjoys travelling, and adores great food. She’s also hopelessly addicted to Zumba ®.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader

This is my debut novel for Mills and Boon ®Medical ™Romance, and I’m thrilled you’ve picked up a copy!

This story is set in North Beach, a fictional place based on the many beautiful townships dotted around coastal New Zealand. The sparkling ocean, white sand and friendly community offer a haven of tranquillity.

For Jessie and Luke North Beach also offers a fabulous place to heal a broken heart although they’re both too stubborn to realise it.

We all have our fantasies of how our happy-ever-after will be. But for Jessie and Luke past experiences have tainted their ideals, they’ve both experienced loss and abandonment, and neither is looking for love.

While writing this I wanted to explore themes of hope in the face of tragedy, and to examine what family means. Is it purely flesh and blood? Or is it forged from the emotional ties that bind us?

I hope you enjoy Jessie and Luke’s journey, watching them slowly learn to trust, laugh and let in love again.

I would love to hear from you. Visit me at www.louisageorge.com

Warm wishes

Louisa

To my Mum. Thank you for your never-ending supply of laughter, love and support, and for gifting me the love of words.

For Warren, Sam and James. You guys are my everything . With you in my life I am the luckiest woman in the world. I love you.

JESSICA PRICE dived deep into her brother’s back-yard pool and savoured the cool water.

Heat burnt into her eyes.

Damn .

Pain stabbed behind her eyeballs.

She breaststroked to the pool edge and rubbed her face, squeezed the water from her eyes. And again. Tried to focus across the garden, but saw nothing except a series of blurred shadows. Soft edges.

Slipping out of the pool, she stumbled to the outside shower, breath stuttering as ice-cold water doused her face.

That pool should come with a health warning. She’d have to check the chemical balance before she got into it again. Tired frustration limped through her jet-lagged muscles. So much for a relaxing swim after a zillion hours on a plane.

‘Hello? Is someone there?’

The squeak of the gate and the man’s voice had her grabbing a towel and on alert. And so much for her craved-for peace and quiet. Go away . ‘Er … hello?’

She switched off the tap, wrapped the towel around her waist and glanced down at her stomach. Well covered. Good. Otherwise whisky-warm-voice man would have a view he’d be unlikely to forget in a hurry.

One glimpse of her scars would leave the poor guy with nightmares. Not as bad as hers, but disturbing enough.

‘Hello?’ she said again, trying to focus on the blurry image in front of her. She tilted her chin upwards and pretended she was used to entertaining strangers while dressed in four-year-old saggy-bottomed togs and her brother’s faded All Blacks towel. ‘Can I help you?’

‘If you’re planning on a swim, forget it,’ the tall smudge said. ‘I just chucked ten litres of chlorine in.’

‘Too late, mate. No wonder my eyeballs feel like melting marshmallows skewered on sharp sticks.’ She pointed to her eyes and hoped they didn’t look as red as they felt. ‘Where I grew up, pool boys left notes if there were excessive chemicals in the pool. It’s beyond dangerous. Imagine if a child had jumped in …’

‘And where I grew up we introduced ourselves before we hurled insults around.’ The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced with a tone as cold as the shower water. ‘I’m not your damned pool boy. I’m Luke McKenzie.’

The dramatic pause he left hanging in the air made her think she should know that name. The gravitas he projected made her think everyone should know that name.

Some NZ idol perhaps? A rugby player? It was lost on her. Two years in the Asian hinterland had her out of step with Kiwi celebrities. ‘Yes? And?’

‘Your brother’s business partner?’

‘Ah … Now you come to mention it …’ Her cheeks burned as recognition wrestled with embarrassment for prime place in her jet-lag-numbed brain. Big brother Zac had left a note. She’d scanned it as she’d thrown her rucksack down, but hadn’t paid much attention.

Luke . The doctor.

Tragic, really. With that frost-tinged dark-velvet voice he was wasted in medicine. ‘So you’re that Luke.’

‘And I assume you’re Jessie? You weren’t supposed to arrive from Outer Mongolia—or wherever it was you were finding yourself—until tomorrow.’

‘I was not finding myself. I was working in Vietnam.’ Nice voice, shame about the manners. Typical, but when Zac had begged her to babysit his general practice he’d forgotten to mention she’d be working with Captain Grump. ‘I thought I’d get an earlier plane and catch Zac before he headed off. No such luck.’

‘He left yesterday. Wanted to get an extra night in Queenstown—the parties are legendary.’ The stinging concentrated into a fierce ache behind her eyes. The Blur seemed to get larger. She guessed he’d come closer as a hint of warm citrus and spice male scent hung in the humid air. Very disconcerting. She tried not to inhale.

‘Your eyes look hellish. You might need to sloosh them with cold water.’

‘You don’t say?’

‘I do. So you’d better come with me.’ Before she could argue, a solid hand steered her into the kitchen and stood her next to the sink.

She shrugged him off. Perfecting the art of keeping her distance from tall, overconfident men had taken a lot of willpower over the last two years. She had no intention of changing that now, melting eyeballs or not. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. I can manage.’

‘Good job I came back when I did. Chlorine fumes can make you pretty sick. You look cold.’

‘Geez, I wonder why.’

He wrapped a towel around her shoulders, apparently oblivious to her shrugging or sarcasm.

In fact, he was surprisingly gentle. Assured and persistent. With a tender touch. Three qualities she’d once admired in a man, then learnt to avoid at all costs. A heady mix experience told her was a recipe for disaster.