Fiona Lowe - Four Weddings - A Woman To Belong To / A Wedding in Warragurra / The Surgeon's Chosen Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal

www.millsandboon.co.uk

They may have sworn off romance…but could wedding bells be on the horizon for these couples?

In a small outback town, widow Kate and single dad Baden fight their feelings for each other, and nurse Emily is vowing she’ll never fall for her playboy boss, Linton. Vietnam is the stunning location for Tom and Bec’s romance—in his quest to discover his past will Tom also find his future…with Bec? Back in Australia, doctor Sarah is intrigued by her gorgeous new neighbour, enigmatic surgeon Ryan—who’s also a blast from her past!

Discover how these couples get their happy ever afters, as Fiona Lowe welcomes you into warm-hearted small communities in stories packed with plenty of emotion and sparkling, feel-good romance!

A Wedding in Warragurra

The Playboy Doctor’s Marriage Proposal

A Woman To Belong To

The Surgeon’s Chosen Wife

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page Four Weddings A Woman to Belong To A Wedding in Warragurra The Surgeon’s Chosen Wife The Playboy Doctor’s Marriage Proposal Fiona Lowe www.millsandboon.co.uk

Back Cover Copy They may have sworn off romance…but could wedding bells be on the horizon for these couples? In a small outback town, widow Kate and single dad Baden fight their feelings for each other, and nurse Emily is vowing she’ll never fall for her playboy boss, Linton. Vietnam is the stunning location for Tom and Bec’s romance—in his quest to discover his past will Tom also find his future…with Bec? Back in Australia, doctor Sarah is intrigued by her gorgeous new neighbour, enigmatic surgeon Ryan—who’s also a blast from her past! Discover how these couples get their happy ever afters, as Fiona Lowe welcomes you into warm-hearted small communities in stories packed with plenty of emotion and sparkling, feel-good romance! A Wedding in Warragurra The Playboy Doctor’s Marriage Proposal A Woman To Belong To The Surgeon’s Chosen Wife

A Woman To Belong To A Woman to Belong To Fiona Lowe

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

A Wedding in Warragurra

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Surgeon’s Chosen Wife

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

The Playboy Doctor’s Marriage Proposal

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

A Woman to Belong To

Fiona Lowe

CHAPTER ONE

RAIN TUMBLED FROM the sky, a wall of pure water—the response of humidity finally reaching breaking point. Bec Monahan tilted her head back, enjoying the refreshing coolness on her face. A moment later she sighed.

Hanoi traffic, chaotic under perfect conditions, would now be at gridlock. No point getting a taxi. She glanced around. No cyclos either—all the drivers had retreated to shelter. Damn.

Pulling her non la forward she smiled at the varied uses of the traditional Vietnamese conical hat. Just an hour ago she’d been using it as a fan and a much-needed sunshade. Now it doubled as an umbrella. It also screamed tourist or country hick in the emerging cosmopolitan city.

She didn’t care. Two days after arriving and immediately sweating in tight Western clothing, she’d adopted the local dress of light cotton trousers and a long-sleeved blouse. The outfit was practical, comfortable and plain. She stood out enough just by being Australian, and this way she drew less attention. She’d learned from an early age it was safer to fade into the background.

She peered at the scrawled address as the rain blurred the blue ink, making it run across the page. She bit her lip and sent up a hopeful plea that this time the address was correct. Tracking down Dr Thông had turned into a marathon.

Weaving her way around the impromptu food stalls and parked motorcycles, she turned into a street clearly marked by an enamelled street sign, a legacy from the French occupation. She stopped abruptly. A shiver raced across her skin as a wave of goose-bumps rose in warning.

A dead-end narrow lane. Always have an escape route.

Life with her father had taught her that. Never let yourself be cornered. She breathed in deeply. This was a leafy suburb of Hanoi. But you know what leafy suburbs can hide.

‘Madame?’

Bec started and turned.

A young man with an umbrella came toward her, concern crossing his face.

‘Bác s . Doctor.’ Bec repeated the oft-said phrase wondering how bad her accent sounded to the locals.

The young man grinned a trade-mark wide Vietnamese smile and pointed to the gate in the high wall at the end of the lane. ‘He is there.’

Bec smiled, nodding her head in thanks, and ran the last few metres to the gate. Her heart hammered against her ribs in anticipation. Finally, after two days of searching, she was making progress. Since arriving in Vietnam on holiday, she’d had an increasing sense of needing to contribute to this glorious country. To do something for the children of Vietnam. At night she lay in bed and tried to work out the best way to help. One week ago she’d decided that a clinic which combined health and education was the best way to go.

Healthy children had a greater capacity to learn and children who had access to education had a greater chance to improve their lives. Education opened up options even if it was just the option to flee an unsafe situation.

She’d used that option.

Now she wanted to give other kids the same chance. Australia had a lot of established services for children and Vietnam didn’t. She hoped to use the ties Australia had with this nation to her advantage.

But trying to work out how to start the process of working with the Vietnamese health department and education department had almost defeated her. Each bureaucrat fobbed her off with, ‘Talk to Dr Thông.’ She had no idea who this doctor was but she was pinning her hopes on him. He must hold the key to her plan.

The heavy gate closed behind her. Suddenly she was in a tranquil courtyard; the noise and hustle of Hanoi receded to barely a buzz. Only the sound of heavy rain on the ground broke the peaceful serenity of this haven.

A French villa stood before her, its green shutters closed against the rain. Bec swore she could hear whispered stories of a life of decadent elegance before years of turmoil. She shook her head against a feeling of lightheadedness. The heat and humidity must be getting to her.

Soaked to the skin, she tugged on the old door pull and a bell sounded in the distance.

She waited. The bell rang out. Silence descended.

Her stomach growled—hunger gnawing at nothing as anticipatory acid burned her stomach. She’d given away her breakfast of rice soup to a homeless child. She’d planned to grab something else but had got sidetracked with her search.