Lovely review on millsandboon.co.uk site, “Mrs McArthur further expands her horizons and successfully branches into “sheikh” territory in this highly enjoyable and well-paced story using her first hand knowledge of midwifery to good effect.

I would perhaps have liked a slightly larger proportion of medical content but it still hits the spot.

10 out of 10″
Gotta be happy with that.

FALLING FOR THE SHEIKH SHE SHOULDN’T comes out in March 2012 in the UK, and April in Aus and North America. Available in print and ebook.

Here’s the UK cover  and we made Book Of The Month over there. Was given a lovely review on millsandboon.co.uk.

“Survival Guide to Dating Your Boss

The ever dependable Mrs McArthur weaves an engaging story with warmly down-to-earth characters whom you feel you know.

The medical detail is realistic.

Ten out of ten. ”

How cool is that.

There’s a great discussion happening at the Mills and Boon community online so maybe you could drop in if you have a moment.

There’s even another happening at eharlequin.com in the US!

Sunset. Glorious Bali Island.

Harry St Clair glanced around the hotel swimming pool and grimaced. His usual calm deserted him just thinking of going back to Australia and the practice of medicine. To make it worse he was half an hour early to tell them it wasn’t happening.

The pool chairs were littered with tourists sipping cocktails while waiting for sunset and he was careful not to catch the eye of any of them, especially the women, as he scanned for the man who’d arranged to meet him. Now was not the time for dalliance.

Bonnie McKenzie watched him arrive. All the women did. When he approached the pool the ladies’ necks stretched like those of inquisitive turtles to follow his broad shoulders, and she rolled her eyes. She could hear Sacha, in the chair next to her, whisper to Jacinta, and she hoped the words didn’t carry to where he stood.

‘They call him the package. ‘Cause he looks good, talks good and I’ll bet my new black bikini he feels good. But he’s a heartbreaker. Tells all the women he’s not into relationships.’ Jacinta sighed dreamily as her friend went on. ‘He’s not staying at the hotel. I asked the waitress. He’s here to see someone.’

To Bonnie the man didn’t look like a package. He looked like an isolated lighthouse off the coast of Wales that she’d once seen on television.

Alone, surrounded by jagged rocks, immovable in any storm as he waited, protected by a wall of sceptical disinterest in everyone until an older woman in a ceremonial sarong tapped him on the arm and he smiled. Then everything changed.

Then there was something about the tilt of his head and warm greeting as he responded to the Balinese lady with such kindness, such honest charm, it called even to Bonnie—which surprised her, because since selling her engagement ring she’d vowed she’d never be that receptive to a man again.

Good genes, her gran would have said. Bonnie found herself thinking, Good jeans, and she looked away and pressed her lips together to hold the smile in. These young midwives she’d travelled with from Darwin were a bad influence.

She looked back, fairly sure he couldn’t see her under the shadow of her umbrella’d deckchair. He was talking to a man now, shaking his head at the elderly sunburnt tourist she’d seen around the hotel, but her eyes were drawn back to the younger one.

There, good lighthouse, a beam of radiance as the man beside him made him smile, and again, when he lifted one strong hand and shook the other man’s hand. So he could soften and, yes, Bonnie could see why the girls felt the need to discuss him.

Now he looked casual and relaxed, lazily footloose in his cut-off blue jeans, his long brown legs testament to some sporting pursuit that kept him fit. Being footloose and declaring it seemed imminently sensible for him, and much better than stomping on hearts to scale the heights of a profession, like some Bonnie knew.

She could see this man’s loosely buttoned sports shirt fought a losing battle if it wanted to disguise the width of his shoulders or the leanly muscular biceps that peeked out of the short sleeves. Not something that usually fascinated her, leanly muscular men, but those arms teased her now, corded with strength and generous with leashed power. She glanced down at the sudden swish of goose bumps across her own skin and lifted her face to find the breeze that caused it.

Hopefully there was a breeze…

Bonnie shifted back further under the umbrella in case her malady was too much sun. She glanced around and saw she wasn’t the only woman still sneaking a peek. So, thankfully, she wasn’t the only basket case because it seemed he called to every person with two X chromosomes.

No doubt being such a woman magnet could be a trial for him after a while and she wasn’t about to join the party.

The thought settled her. Good. At least she had her common sense back, though she had to admit there was something shadowed and intriguing in his persona that begged the question of his past. Well, there was stuff in her own past, plenty of baggage for the unwary, and he could keep his load because she had enough of her own.

Bonnie looked away to the reds and golds of the Balinese sunset leaking colour into the waves. When Sacha actually nudged her to admire him again, Bonnie shook her head and whispered, ‘Not interested in packages. I’m here to enjoy the sunset without discussing men.’

Sacha rolled her eyes. ‘As you like. You watch the pretty ball in the sky and I’ll watch my own view.’ The girl winked and Bonnie shook her head and pressed her lips together again. She had to. The incorrigible young midwives had been making her smile since she’d unexpectedly joined their holiday.

Pushed into a short vacation by her friends in Darwin, this break had been designed to put a spring back in Bonnie’s step before she started the new job at Ayers Rock, or Uluru now, she reminded herself, the ancient Aboriginal name for their sacred place. And, in fact, although her mouth still felt a bit stiff, she was finding more to smile about every day.

The last sliver of molten fire disappeared into the sea with an audible sigh, though, strictly speaking, the noise came from the collective breath of appreciation from the watchers as they turned and began to meander back to their rooms before the tropical night encroached.

‘So what are we doing for dinner?’ The girls lived for action and Bonnie searched in her head for a skerrick of enthusiasm. Nope. None there.

She’d floated quietly in the deep end of the pool last night and avoided them because she’d spent the first three days with a plastered-on smile. Now she just wanted to soak in the calmness that she had to admit had unexpectedly filtered back into her soul by Balinese osmosis.

‘Think I might curl up on one of the lounges and stare at the colours as they fade. Then maybe dinner in my room.’

‘Okay.’ The girls jumped up now. The nature show was over and youth needed diversion. ‘Maybe we’ll catch up with you later at the club.’ They grinned, waved and took off like they’d miss the chance of a lifetime if they didn’t run.

Harry St Clair watched the scantily clad nymphs hurry away but his eyes were drawn back to the quietly restful woman in the chair. He’d noticed her while he’d been talking to Bob. Allowed himself to be distracted from Bob’s attempt at persuasion, though it hadn’t been a hardship scoping her out. And here he was, still loitering when he could have gone.

He hesitated, conscious of his own aversion to disruption by people when he wished to be alone, and very aware of the ‘don’t bother me’ signals that flew above her like those Balinese kites you’d see any afternoon here—happy doing their own thing.

But she intrigued him, attracted him ridiculously with a little flick of her hair and the stretch of her fingers when she put her glass down, and suddenly he didn’t want to eat dinner in peace.

A little harmless weather conversation with an intriguing little sun-lover would chase away the demons the job offer had left him with. And he’d had a beer already so he wasn’t driving back to Ubud until tomorrow.

She looked nothing like the usual women he flirted with. She looked more like someone he’d actually converse with. Like his housekeeper’s sister, he’d just seen, or any woman safely married and motherly and therefore not interested in him as a fling, but this young woman seemed someone he could briefly connect with, which in itself was strange. Connection hadn’t been on his agenda—especially in the last two years.

Serene, that was what she was, though serenity over sadness? Maybe it was just his ego because she hadn’t looked his way at all and she obviously didn’t feel any of the vibes he was getting.

Harry gave up the struggle and crossed to her umbrella. ‘I wondered if they’d leave you alone,’ he said, and as an opening remark it was pretty lame, but she looked even better up close. He was right. Her eyes did hold a background of darkness, or maybe green-toned memories that made him want to ask why. Maybe that was why he’d felt drawn to her.

She wore a cheap silk dress that looked incredibly cute on her, unlike the flaunting swimwear the others had worn, as if she wasn’t confident displaying her body.

Shame, that.

The concept of conversation grew even more attractive. If he could convince her, that was, because she looked like he was the last person she needed to see, and usually that was enough deterrent when he just didn’t care enough.

She took her time to tilt her firm little chin to a ridiculous angle so she could look up at his face. ‘Actually, they’re my friends.’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.’

Bonnie was in a dilemma. The palpitations had come from nowhere and his proximity was making it hard not to blush. The lighthouse offered her the five-star smile free of charge. Dazzling sweep of light. Then his words sank in. And even an apology. Not something Bonnie was used to getting from men. Nice of him, Bonnie thought, but she wished he hadn’t because she didn’t need more reasons to be attracted.

‘I’m not judging,’ he said. ‘I remember being young.’

In years he was nowhere near old but there was a wealth of experience, possibly not all good, behind those dazzling eyes of his. Some days she felt decrepit too but didn’t know this guy well enough to agree.

‘Poor you.’ Though he didn’t look poor in any sense of the word. She wondered what had happened to make him feel aged but that was probably all part of his pickup plan. He had to be somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, which put him five years older than her at least.

Up close he was even more impressive in a gut-wrenching, tear-the-breath-from-your-throat kind of way she didn’t like to admit, but thankfully she could now call on months of training in unattainability. ‘Do I know you?’

More smile and the look he was giving suggested he’d like to move that way. She ignored the little buzz that grew with the idea. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ He held out one tanned hand and she looked at it. ‘Harry St Clair,’ she heard him say.

Such beautiful hands. Long fingers, square-clipped nails, fine hairs across a strong back—and a wedding band. She hadn’t noticed that before and she didn’t know why she’d be shocked. Maybe because the way he was smiling at her had nothing to do with fidelity. It was a strange old world when people could act like this.

Bonnie uncurled herself from the chair and stood up next to him. She was tall but he was taller by a fair margin and that only made her more annoyed. She couldn’t hide the contempt in her eyes but then, that was what happened when you smelled a rat when you expected aftershave.

She raised her eyebrows and then her chin. ‘I don’t know you.’ She shook her head. ‘Do I know your wife?’

His hand dropped and his other came over the ring and hid it from view. ‘I doubt that. She’s been gone for more than two years.’

Bonnie closed her eyes. He was a widower? Hell. ‘I’m sorry.’ But it was too late now. She’d jumped to the conclusion he was just like Jeremy, Dr Sleaze, with the harem of women in the wings and their joint bank account he’d emptied.

Infidelity brought back the memories she’d thought she’d zippered away in a sealed compartment, like she’d packed her suitcase to fly into Denpasar. But that was no excuse for accusing him.

She could feel her fingers against her side, twitching a little as if hoping he’d put his hand out again and give her another shot. But her hand wouldn’t make the journey by itself. Her barriers were secure. That was a good thing. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’

Harry wasn’t ready for that. Hadn’t expected it because it didn’t happen to him often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given the flick so smoothly. He followed her. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

She kept walking and obviously she didn’t care if he heard her or not. ‘I didn’t throw it,’ she muttered.

So this was how it felt, Harry reminded himself. Unpleasant, but more interesting. Maybe he was a masochist? The wall around her was higher than the one around the Royal Palace in Ubud and twice as fascinating. He knew all about walls to keep people out. Suddenly it became imperative he have more than a brief chat with her about the weather.

He took two big steps and caught up with her. ‘But you threw an insult. I’m only looking for a nice platonic dinner partner to share Jimbaran Bay with. Maybe we could talk about that?’

At least she’d stopped. Turned to look at him. But she wasn’t saying anything. He could feel those liquid eyes assessing him, and he felt as if he were posing, like in a passport photograph, with that frozen, trying-not-to-look-like-a-psychopath expression on his face.

It was as if she didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything at all. More people should try that. It was attractive. And at least it wasn’t no.

He went on because he knew he had seconds before she disappeared. Make it count, old boy. ‘I really am Harry St Clair. They know me here. I’m reluctant to ask someone else.’ He glanced around as if there were loads of women he could ask. ‘All those candles and tables in the sand at Jimbaran are just too romantic.’ He shrugged. ‘I can tell you loathe me. I’d feel safe with you.’

He felt like groaning. What the heck was falling out of his mouth? He was an idiot and he wouldn’t blame her if she ran away. Where had that come from?

‘I think you’ve tickets on yourself,’ she said, and her eyes suddenly looked as lush as the local jungle and just as dangerous. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea because this woman had weapons he wasn’t that sure he could hold out against if she used them all.

‘I apologise. I was insensitive about your wife.’ She looked away and he thought he heard her sigh. ‘I don’t know you enough to loathe you but I guess I could think about trying.’

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder at the pinking horizon. Was she mad? Was it too late to squirm out? ‘The sun’s gone. Why go to Jimbaran now?’ She’d heard of the bay past the airport. ‘Everything I’ve heard’s about the sunset.’

He slanted a quick look at her as he followed her towards the main building of the resort. ‘I enjoy eating seafood on the beach. But not alone. My treat?’

‘Wow. A big spender. I might choose lobster.’ Even to her it sounded like a yes. She didn’t know the man. But then, the girls had implied he wasn’t a serial killer. Most men who looked like him usually weren’t. No doubt some women would do their own dying to attract his attention….

So this is my Bali book. And my Uluru (Ayers Rock) book. Both destinations are amazing and wonderful, and places I could revisit time and time again.

I especially hope I’ve conveyed the strong sense of family, serenity and heritage I saw in the beautiful people of Bali.

Of course I had to set a story there and so much of my trip is between the pages.

I love this book.

Then again I love Uluru too. I did not expect the power of the place to affect me as much as it did and some of that magic went into the book because the story of Harry and Bonnie just happened. (And how cool is it my new grandson is Harry too.)

Back to the book. This Harry’s a gorgeous but footloose rogue in Bali, and Bonnie McKenzie is a very sensible, motivated midwife who doesn’t want a holiday fling. That’s why our wounded Harry doesn’t know if he ‘s coming or going but he does know that clarity may return if he follows Bonnie to the last place he wants to be – central Australia – the place his wife and child died – and maybe the healing power of the majestic and mighty Rock  along with love of a strong woman will be his salvation.

As I said in the Dear Reader letter, I dedicated this to the three different girlfriends I travelled to Bali with over the years and my son, Andrew, who shared the rock experience with me and allowed me to write while he changed that flat tyre in the red desert. And of course, my own rock, my dearest Ian.

To my readers, I sincerely hope you enjoy Bonnie and Harry’s journey as much as I enjoyed visiting those fabulous places.

Perhaps I can inspire you to visit or revisit Bali and Uluru one day.

I absolutely love this book. Love the independance of Tammy, love Leon, one of my favourite heroes, and then there’s all the drama and adventure in kidnapping, physical attacks, car chases, and of course warm and fuzzy romance – as you can imagine I had a ball.

So I really hope you love the fifth book in the Lyrebird Lake Series and if this is your first book set in Lyrebird Lake there’s no reason you can’t read this one first.
Enjoy xx Fi

And he’s gorgeous.

Due out in October in the UK and NA and November in Aus and NZ.

I’ve been listening to Italian tapes in my car, trying to learn a new language by distance because I wanted to be able to understand the nuances of an Italian hero’s seduction. My man’s an Aussie through and through, but I wanted to be able to understand Emma’s love. Driving to work for me really is  not far, a mere twenty five kilometres each way, and just enough for one Italian lesson per shift. The rolling ‘R’s’ are delightful, and the language so romantic.

In ‘Midwife In The Family Way’ we return to Lyrebird Lake, one of my favourite places in the world, and Emma’s story. Gianni, our Italian hero is blown away by the strength in this country midwife who is more self sufficient than any woman he has ever known.  This book was inspired by my friend Michelle, who, as the dedication says, is ‘one of the coolest, bravest, most amazing people I know, and whose journey has been my inspiration for this book. ‘

Michelle, (and Emma’s) mum has Huntingtons Disease and it’s a debilitating, tragic disease we’d all like to see wiped out. Like all people wth and without the gene who’ve been affected by or known those affected by Huntingtons, I pray for a cure.

One of the most amazing side bonuses of writing  and reading is the knowledge we accidentally gain and grow by. Exposure to Huntington’s was like that. The human spirit is incredible and I can only admire and in some way try to emulate the way people rise above the obstacles life puts in front of them. My deepest admiration goes out to those touched by this unfair disease. I hope you too, can be inspired by Emma and Gianni’s story as I was.

warmest wishes

Fiona

My second Kimberley’s of Western Australia book has hit the shelves.

In a two pack in England with the talented Judy Campbell, and as Medical book of the month in Australia in single format, and with another cover in North America. All have great covers and I thought I’d share them.

Because this is my last Kimberley’s book I was sad to leave this magical area behind at the end of the book. The ideas for Sophie’s story came during a helicopter trip towards the Tanami Desert when I spent a full day exploring the fabulous striped rock formations of the Bungle Bungles. The land was so arid I wondered how people would survive if they were stranded. As a strange co-incidence, we were only a day behind the new Qantas (Australia’s airline) commercial being made there, so if you see the clip and notice the cathedral like cave, that’s the place. It’s always a thrill for me to recognise the landscape of the Bungle Bungles when the children start to sing.

I hope you enjoy Sophie and Levi’s story. I had great fun challenging them.

THE MIDWIFE AND THE MILLIONAIRE

Midwife Sophie Sullivan is beautiful, fun-loving, calm in a crisis…and hates arrogant, smooth-talking playboys like Sydney’s most eligible bachelor Levi Pearson! But when a helicopter crashes down in Western Australia, with Levi and Sophie on board, these two very different people must rely on each other to survive… But isn’t it often said that opposites attract?  Out now UK, in July North America and Australia/NZ

And thanks to Sheryl from Cataromance for another lovely review.

The Midwife and the Millionaire by Fiona McArthur is a medical romance that plays with the emotions and delivers an enthralling read. Sophie is a woman who knows what she likes and dislikes, and her first impression of Levi is that of arrogance which changes as she gets  to know him. While Levi wasn’t looking for complications but discovers one in Sophie, a woman he finds as prickly as a pear yet somehow more desirable. Ms McArthur has created a tale of a fiery encounter ending with a relationship of love. Thank you Ms McArthur for giving this reader another enchanting read.

Makes you wonder about the covers in all the other countries.

Another squat boab tree dropped its leaves as Sophie Sullivan drove past, a sure sign the wet season was nearly over. She sounded her car horn at the frilled-neck lizard basking in the middle of the dirt track and he reared on hind legs, spread his neck frill and hissed until he seemed much more than he really was.Typical male.At least the craggy red mountains that embraced her were true, she thought, as she drove towards the boulder-strewn river—that range was a dear part of home.

Home: far north Western Australia, the Kimberleys and a place blissfully away from the city and men who shed lies like the boab shed leaves.

Even the dusty Gibb River Road looked attractive until she saw the vehicle parked by the Pentecost and the motionless man beside the sluggish water.

More crocodile fodder. She sighed—travellers caused her no end of concern, especially ones who hovered for long periods at the edge of the crocodile-inhabited rivers.

The tourists parked by the river because of the view to the Cockburn Range across the ochre plains. Locals used the designated parking area at the top of the hill, well away from the water.

She pulled up next to the expensive all-terrain vehicle and wound down her window. ‘You OK, there?’

The man didn’t answer. He must’ve heard her truck. She was ten feet away from him. Careless and rude, she thought and narrowed her eyes. Finally he turned his head and glanced at her dismissively. ‘Fine, thanks.’

He was big—Sophie couldn’t help but notice— bigger than her brother, Smiley, who topped six-two, and this guy was very nicely muscled so he’d be a mouthful for any croc, but he was too close and too stationary in a dangerous spot. It would be a shame to waste the body, she thought dispassionately, and with the new knowledge from Brand-name Brad she could have done without, it would be a waste of the designer jeans and Rolex watch.

Congratulations were in order for her immunity from the male species. A hard-won but valuable lesson.

Sophie bit back another sigh. How did you tell someone to get back in their vehicle when they blatantly ignored you?

‘You’ve seen the warnings?’ She looked at the sign herself, read it under her breath even. ‘Crocodiles Inhabit This Area. Keep Away from the Edge. Do Not Enter the Water.’ But her reading it didn’t make him face her. In fact, no further response to her at all.

Grrr. Spare me from arrogant males. Despite the flags that waved from the man to say go away, she tried one more time. ‘About the crocodiles here?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ Far less cordial and this time he shifted his feet so he faced her. ‘I’m just passing through.’

‘You’ll pass right through a croc,’ she said drily. ‘I lost my darling dog in a spot like this once.’ And still had nightmares about the tragedy her lack of concentration had caused.

Then he looked directly at her. He wasn’t to-die-for handsome, really, but he had those dark, dark lashes and an intense gaze that held her, effortlessly, until he dropped the connection as easily as he’d reeled her in. The trumpet call. Danger, and not from crocodiles. Her skin prickled.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your pet.’ He glanced back at the river before he looked again at her, to assess if she’d be a nuisance by the look of it, and Sophie could feel the warmth of the sun beat in the window, or she hoped that explained the heat.

Best not to become entangled in another look so she concentrated on a small scar on his chin that made him less imposing—more vulnerable, which was a funny thing to think about a stranger, but his mouth… She had a sudden ridiculous urge to see those lips smile.

Sophie searched for the question she’d asked.

He coughed and she looked up in time to see him roll his eyes, obviously used to stunned mullet expressions on passing females, and he didn’t bother to hide the sigh. ‘If I get attacked by a croc because I had to talk to you I’m going to be extremely unhappy.’

Sophie blinked. What the heck was she doing? So much for immunity! She obviously needed a booster shot against this guy, so leaving was a great idea. ‘Right, then. Your funeral.’ For the first time in ten years Sophie crunched the gears as she slipped her vehicle into reverse.

Levi Pearson turned back to contemplate the spot where his father had been taken five months ago. Or had he been pushed and the crocodile only secondary to his demise? He’d find out.

That tiny whiff of suspicion, something only he seemed to have sniffed, was the reason he’d flown up here after the wet season and why he’d asked his stubbornly determined sister not to mention their proper connection to Xanadu. That and the fact the other consultant he worked with had recommended a holiday for the tenth time in the past two years.

As soon as he’d confirmed or dismissed the concept of foul play he’d get her the hell out of downtown no-wheresville and back to Sydney. The manager here was more than capable of running Xanadu, and Levi didn’t need another burden, but he’d discovered a motive he couldn’t dismiss.

Lord knew the original owners of the station had enough reason to hate his family if the stories of his father were true.

He took his eye off the bank and risked a glance at the blonde woman’s four-wheel-drive vehicle as it ploughed through the river away from him. Nothing else mattered. Hadn’t for a long while. Definitely not a pair of concerned blue eyes under two stern eyebrows. Above a lush little mouth. He frowned. She’d been an officious little thing but strangely intriguing.

Still, he’d read the population of the Kimberley region was about thirty thousand people in an area slightly bigger than Germany and it was the last place he’d ever settle. So, he should be safe from bumping into her again. He didn’t need the complication of fleeting sexual attraction to a cowgirl.

A stealthy splash to the left of where he stood had his attention firmly back on the water and Levi took a few steps towards the vehicle he’d borrowed from the resort. Probably better not to get eaten and give her the chance to say I told you so.

He could feel the twitch of his lips at the thought, along with surprise at the idea of smiling, something he hadn’t done much of in the past year or two, and climbed back into his vehicle.

Nearly two hours later Sophie swerved around another pothole and the old four-wheel drive bounced off the thousandth corrugation on her way to Jabiru Station Township. They’d grade the road soon now the rain had stopped. She gritted her teeth to stop the jarring. Almost home.

Funnily enough, she wasn’t tired. Hadn’t been since the Pentecost. She didn’t want to think about the man at the river any more. It had been one of those moments in time when you catch another person’s eye and, for a second or two, glances tangle and reverberate, and then you both look away and the moment passes.

Except the moment seemed to last an eternity and she was still waiting for it to pass.

It had been one of those moments. Just a stranger. With great eyes. And a great body. And a great mouth. Even in the firm line, she remembered, his mouth had hinted at a fullness and dangerous curve that made her wonder how he’d got the scar. She hoped some hot-blooded woman had thrown a plate at him. Her lips twitched but she pulled them back into line. He’d looked like everything she didn’t want in a man.

Rude, definitely.

Stupid, obviously. She frowned. He didn’t look stupid; actually, he’d looked fearsomely intelligent. So not stupid, maybe reckless. She didn’t want that either, did she? No way.

Worst of all, he’d had the trappings of her ex. Stinking, selfishly, blatantly wealthy. Like Dr Brad Gale. The liar. She was finished with doctors and liars and people who thought they could buy you. And serve you a prenuptial at the same time.

She was glad to be home, in a place where people said what they meant and didn’t string you along. Where she could be useful to those who needed her, and not as some decorative arm hanging, and definitely not confined to answering only when spoken to.

Sophie did wonder if her poor brother had become used to his bachelor ways while she’d been away. He’d looked surprised when she’d arrived to move back into her own room, even if ‘Shortest engagement in history,’ was all he’d said.

She drove through the tiny Jabiru Station Township— mostly pubs and boarded buildings—to their house, a modest timber residence with bull-nosed verandas on all sides and a tiny dry garden. Neat and comfortable, in the same state of disrepair as they’d inherited it from their parents, who’d inherited it from her father’s parents after Granddad did that bad thing.

A place where Smiley could save every cent for his dream station, like the one his grandfather had been tricked out of in a card game all those years ago. Against a man who’d lied.

Not that Smiley lusted after Xanadu. He’d his own plans for a different station that accounted for his cattle having to be lodged all over the Kimberley while he saved for the land, but it irked Sophie that her own father and now Smiley had to scrimp so hard to make their way in the place they were born.

‘You must’ve loaded the cattle early, because I didn’t see the road train on the way in,’ she said as she rounded the veranda, then stopped. He had someone with him.

Her brother’s drawl seemed more noticeable, which was saying something, as his normal speech defined the word leisurely. ‘Sophie.’ He looked at her, and then indicated the petite dark-haired woman beside him. ‘This is Odette. From Sydney. She’s having a baby, and in the area for a week or so, and wanted to meet a midwife in case she had any problems.’

Sophie held out her hand and shook the young woman’s perfectly manicured fingers. Nice expensive watch. Brad had bought her one just like it. She’d left it in Perth.

Sophie bit back the thought. He’d made her judgemental and that wasn’t like her—or hadn’t been before she’d tripped off to Perth for her midwifery. She needed to get her new prejudice under control. Wealthy tourists kept a lot of people in jobs around here.

‘Nice to meet you, Odette. Welcome to Jabiru Station Township. You been waiting long?’

‘I flew in an hour ago.’ Her coral-coloured lips tilted as she smiled. She had a sweet face, Sophie thought, and well made up, which was interesting as the heat usually melted foundation around here. ‘Guess I should have rung first but I thought the clinic was open.’

Sophie looked across the street to the old homestead that’d been turned into the clinic. ‘I’ve been visiting an Aboriginal community. It’s “women’s health” day. Just takes a few hours to cover the distance around here.’

‘So Smiley was explaining.’ She looked shyly up at Sophie’s brother. Goofily, Smiley actually smiled back, an occurrence that was so rare it had derived his nickname. Sophie felt herself frown. She’d never seen him look like that. Or be much into explaining anything. She’d be lucky to get a dozen words out of him on a normal morning.

‘Odette flew herself in a chopper,’ he said.

Impressive. ‘You’re a pilot? Wow.’ And very pregnant, but she didn’t say it.

Odette shrugged with a smile. ‘I do it for fun. You’re a midwife. Wow.’

Sophie had to laugh. ‘I do that for fun too. My friend, Kate, the other midwife, flies her own plane from Jabiru Homestead.’

Odette exuded good nature and Sophie couldn’t help liking her. ‘So you’re having a baby? And want a check-up? Come across to the clinic. Was there something you were worried about?’

Odette turned and smiled at Sophie’s brother. ‘Thanks, Smiley. I hope I get to see you again.’

He nodded and tipped his hat. The two women crossed the road and Odette looked back. ‘Your brother’s a handsome man.’

Sophie blinked. She’d never thought about it. He was just… Smiley. ‘If he’s not in the house he’s got an Akubra on so I don’t often see his face. I guess I still see skinned knees and freckles.’

‘I didn’t see any of those.’ Odette sounded almost dreamy and Sophie grimaced. City-rich women and Smiley did not mix.

‘Is it your husband’s helicopter?’ Not very subtle.

‘I don’t have a husband.’ Odette was no fool and she met Sophie’s eyes without a flicker. ‘The father of my baby is dead.’

Bummer, for more reasons than one, Sophie thought. Was she being judgemental again? ‘Sorry for being nosy.’

‘That’s OK. Better to get it out in the open anyway. He wasn’t a nice man,’ Odette went on. ‘And the chopper belongs to the resort where I’m staying.’

‘That would be Xanadu, then.’ It wasn’t a question. Xanadu. Now an ultra-high-end resort a hundred kilometres away, as the chopper flew, that catered for a Kimberley adventure in five-star luxury. Private suites, fine wine and cuisine, and escorted tours with private sittings in the hot springs and gorges. They’d turned it into a wilderness park with a few token cattle. Not like in Grandfather’s day. ‘I’ve never known them to lend the chopper before.’

Odette shrugged. ‘I just asked the manager.’ She looked across at Sophie. ‘I could take you and Smiley up for a fly if you want.’

‘Thanks, but maybe another time. Should you be flying when you’re pregnant?’

‘You sound like my brother.’

Now why did she suddenly think of the man at the river? ‘Don’t suppose he’s a big bloke, scar on his chin, not into smiling.’ The one who was ‘just passing through.’

‘You’ve met Levi?’

‘Levi?’ It seemed he was another person who was happy to bend the truth.

  5STAR  CATAROMANCE REVIEW – They said…

An engaging and thoroughly enthralling romance of overcoming tribulations, Midwife In A Million by Fiona McArthur will leave readers full of exhilaration. Ms McArthur has created characters that any reader could fall in love with, characters that struggle to find the happiness they deserve while also dealing with medical situations that could end in disaster. I really enjoyed reading this book because not only does it end with a happily-ever-after but it also gives the reader a look into the complications of a relationship and love that time cannot defeat. Kudos Ms McArthur for another spectacular book.

Now that made my day today.

To save a baby -Their gruelling race against time across the rugged Outback to save a patient’s unborn child challenges Kate and Rory physically and emotionally –                                    

So followed a glorious week in the top end of Australia driving in an all-terrain vehicle across rock-strewn rivers, past magnificent escarpments and into the purple sunsets of the Kimberleys. Such fabulous land and fabulous people—that’s where Rory and Kate from ‘Midwife in a Million’ grew up.

Rory had always been Kate’s hero, the one who’d stood up for her in school, the only person who knew the real Kate—not the Outback royalty one. He was there for Kate at her most desperate times…except for the one time she didn’t tell him she needed him. And for the past ten years that secret was enough to destroy what they’d had.

In this book, Kate needs to transfer a young pregnant woman to Perth, through floods and storms and terrible roads, and it’s Rory who arrives to help. This is their journey. I hope you grow to love Kate and Rory as much as I did. They epitomize the strength, determination and humor of the people who live “top end.” I hope, too, that within the following pages you can glimpse the incredible beauty of the Kimberleys that thrilled me.

I wish you happy reading!

Fiona McArthur

by Fiona McArthur

Ten years ago paramedic Rory McIver left home, promising childhood sweetheart Kate Onslow he’d return to make her his bride. But Kate abruptly called off their engagement, and Rory, devastated, stayed away. Now he’s back to ask the woman who broke his heart one simple question—why?

When a medical emergency forces them together, the passion between the old flames reignites! Their grueling race against time across the rugged Outback to save a patient’s unborn child challenges Kate and Rory physically and emotionally. Now is the time for them to confront their past—their future together depends upon it!

EXCERPT

Rory McIver stepped thankfully from the RFDS aircraft he’d hitched a ride with. It hadn’t been one of the smoothest flights he’d ever been on. Maybe he should have driven from Perth but it had been such a hectic couple of weeks that the idea of driving three thousand kilometres on a whim didn’t do it for him.

He bent to scoop a little of the red earth he’d watched pass below his window for hours, let it run through his fingers, then allowed the wind to blow the soil from his palm. He looked around. He never thought he’d return.

Even early in the morning on the airstrip the hot wind wrapped around him like an electric blanket on high, that all enveloping heat that only Western Australia’s Kimberley could offer, a heat he hadn’t felt for ten years and savoured now.

He touched his shirt pocket and gripped the bulkiness of his wallet in that habit he’d acquired since she’d sent the damn letter all that time ago. Enough!

As the plane bumped away on the dirt strip a cattle dog barked and the dog’s lanky owner tipped his finger under his hat in greeting. ‘G’day, Rory. Long time, no see.’

Here was a person who hadn’t changed. ‘Smiley.’ Rory nodded to the cowboy leaning against the battered truck. ‘Good of you to meet me.’ They shook hands and Rory threw his swag in the back where a cloud of red soil smothered it as it landed. He smiled wryly and opened the passenger door against the wind. When the spinning top of a whirly wind tried to climb in with him he wondered about the implications of the strong breeze.

Smiley pushed himself off the truck and slid behind the wheel to start the engine. ‘I wondered how long it would take you after Kate turned up,’ Smiley drawled in that remembered way and drew a smile from Rory until the words sank in.

Rory grimaced. Well, apparently not long. ‘I read in the newspaper that her father’s sick. So she’s been gone a long time, too?’

‘Hmm. Left the same year as you. Went to school in Perth.’ Smiley grunted and let off the handbrake. ‘She’s back to spend time with him but flies down to the station township a few days a week to relieve Sophie.’

Smiley glanced at a small four-wheel drive vehicle under a lean-to in the corner of the paddock and Rory gathered it was Kate’s. ‘She works at the clinic, and delivers the babies that drop in from the camps, as well as emergencies.’ Smiley shook his head. ‘I hear the old man isn’t happy she’s working here at all.’

Seems Lyle Onslow hadn’t changed then. Malignant old sod.

‘Her father was never happy.’

‘He’s dying.’ Smiley turned to look at him and they both thought about that. Lyle was a hard man, and not always fair, but no doubt Saint Peter would sort that one out shortly.

Smiley shrugged the old man’s problems away and slipped another matchstick into his mouth to chew. His lips barely moved but the matchstick danced at the edge of his lips in a skill passed down from Smiley’s father. It brought back the good memories for Rory and there’d been many of those.

‘So you told her you’re coming?’ Smiley said around the match.

No, Rory thought. He closed his eyes and the sleepless night he’d spent trying to work out how to do that hung heavily behind his lids. ‘Try and keep a damper on that news, mate, until I get a chance.’

Smiley snorted, the closest he came to a laugh. ‘Keep a damper on it? Here?’ Smiley took the match-stick out and pointed it at Rory. ‘The airwaves’ve been hummin’ since your plane left Perth.’

Rory supposed he’d known that—just blocked it out—and he’d have to deal with the fact that he’d broken his promise when he saw her.

When he saw her. He didn’t know how he felt about seeing the woman who’d dumped him after promising to wait. Had never answered his letters. Had apparently been the cause of heartbreak and suffering for his parents, who had shown her nothing but kindness when her mother died.

He needed more time, or would there never be enough time between them? Now he’d almost achieved his life’s goal he’d finally realised he couldn’t move on until he’d settled the past.

‘How’s Sophie?’

Smiley’s sister was the antithesis of her brother. Bubbly and extrovert, she bossed Smiley mercilessly and her dour brother just shrugged. There’d been a time the four of them had done everything together out on the sprawling million acres of Jabiru Station— another thing Kate’s father hadn’t liked, his daughter knocking about with the hired help.

‘Nagging as usual,’ Smiley said but there was pride in his voice and he elaborated, unusual for him, as if he sensed Rory’s need for a change of subject. ‘Now she’s working at the clinic with…’ He shot him a quick glance.

… with Kate, Rory completed in his mind.

‘Anyway, having help means Sophie gets some time off for a change,’ Smiley went on. ‘So she’s good. She’s getting tips on baby-catching, she calls it, and thinkin’ of doing her midwifery.’ He looked back at the road. ‘When do you go back?’

Kate the teacher for Sophie? Of course she’d changed. What did he expect? That she’d still think he, Rory, held the answers to the universe?

‘I’ve a week off. I’ll stay over at the Hilton until RFDS can pick me up in a couple of days.’

The Hilton was the town’s tongue-in-cheek name for the extremely run down boarding house presided over by a tough ex-army nurse, Betty Shultz. Shultzie swore she’d never leave Jabiru Township, then again, Shultzie swore, loudly and often, all the time.

Her Hilton was nothing like the chain of exclusive hotels of the same name; her establishment was bare minimum and held together by pieces of wood nailed over the top of other pieces of wood.

‘How was Charlie’s retirement party?’

‘Good food,’ Smiley said. ‘Don’t suppose you’d want his job?’

After flogging himself to higher and higher levels until last month’s appointment? Volunteer ambulance in the bush instead of Deputy Commissioner of the entire state? Actually, it held some attraction. Back on the road instead of budget meetings and troubleshooting.

‘No. Afraid not.’

They didn’t speak again until they drove past the huge cattle yards on the outskirts and pulled up opposite the rundown hotel in the main street of Jabiru Township, population a hundred and fifty through the week, three hundred—mostly ringers and cowboys—on the weekend. Town, sweet town.

He looked around. A big change from Perth city.

Another whirly wind scooted past Rory as he lifted his swag out of the back and he glanced at the pale sky for the first streaks of cloud. Not yet.

He thumped the roof and Smiley lifted his hand and drove away. Rory watched the truck until it disappeared in a ball of dust and wondered if he could change his mind and ride it back out to the airstrip.

He’d never run from a challenge before. Funny how attractive that thought was right now, but only for a moment.

Well, he’d arrived. He needed to stop making such a big deal of a visit home. It wasn’t as if he had family here any more. He squashed that bitterness away too. The rest—meaning his reaction to Kate— would have to take care of itself.

He looked at the mostly boarded shops in the deserted street. It wasn’t like Kate’s father’s homestead and the home station where he’d grown up, but in the years since he’d been to the commercial part of Jabiru not much had changed.

Except the collateral damage he’d caused to his family by his liaison with Kate.

Kate Onslow was born into the pilot’s seat of an aeroplane; luckily, because it made the distance she needed to cover so ridiculously easy.

The two-hour drive between Jabiru Homestead and Jabiru Township was dust all the way and to fly cut the distance down to twenty minutes. Her greatgrandfather had settled on the station a hundred years ago and when the township had grown exponentially her grandfather had built a new homestead away from the madding crowds. Though a hundred people didn’t seem ‘madding’ to Kate, she could understand the improvement in position for the family headquarters.

The new Jabiru Homestead, many-gabled, encircled by verandas and sprawled over an acre, nestled below a range of ochre mountains that bordered the Timor Sea; the peaks gave water and provided glorious waterholes and a lush rainforest pocket, and all only a short distance from the sparseness around the house.

The old homestead at Jabiru Township that she could see in the distance now from the air, held the hospital clinic, the pharmacy, the one-roomed library of donated books and the garage for the town’s only four-wheel drive ambulance truck.

As she closed in on her destination Kate saw the Royal Flying Doctor plane take off from the town strip and her heart rate dropped in a swoop as if she’d flown through a sudden wind shift, something her aircraft had been doing all flight, but this internal up-draught made her sick to the stomach.

She’d had three radio calls already to tell her Rory McIver was coming to town to see her.

Last month it had been hard enough to come back and face her belligerent father and the reality of his illness but that paled in comparison with Rory’s unexpected visit.

She’d been able to face the idea of coming home because she’d known her father would never change her mind about anything again. But Rory? Once he’d been the world to her.

She would just have to survive this too. Her independence would help her survive it. The sudden sting of threatening tears she ignored—they never came to anything. She hadn’t cried since all that had happened ten years ago and the lies. But the emotional turbulence had started and she hadn’t even seen him. She was a big girl now and not some needy teenager with an adolescent crush on the manager’s son.

Kate took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Too many years she’d spent telling herself she needed to stand on her own, rely on herself, be strong, and that determination would not be undermined by a man who had been out of her life for a long time. What did he want to see her for now, anyway?

Kate stripped Rory’s intrusion from her mind and concentrated on her descent because that was her strength. Single-minded concentration on what needed to be done. But, as soon as the plane grounded, as soon as room for distraction arrived, the thoughts returned to stick like the plane’s wheels to the ruts on the strip.

She gritted her teeth and secured her aircraft but the worry nagged at her all the way to town in her vehicle. Nagged her through the first half hour at work, right up until sixteen-year-old Lucy Bolton presented with the worst case of indigestion she’d had in her life.

Jabiru Township Clinic serviced the small town set in the baked earth at the edge of the station’s southern mountain ranges, a place that hid lush waterholes and settlements, plus far-flung aboriginal communities and out camps for the station. If the situation was dire, the doctor might be able to fly in once a week—unfortunately he’d been in yesterday.

Kate took one look at Lucy and put her to bed in the four bed ward. ‘Under those covers, young lady. No arguments. Where’s your mother?’

Lucy was a big-boned, hardworking girl whose mother leased one of the four pubs in town from Kate’s father. Usually happy-go-lucky and fun, Kate knew Lucy wasn’t one to complain. They bred them tough out here—had to—it was a long way to twentieth century medicine.

‘Mum’s tired.’ Lucy sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes. ‘There was a big outfit in town yesterday and I didn’t want to wake her.’ Lucy sighed as she rested her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘The queer thing is, Kate,’ she whispered, ‘I haven’t eaten a thing ’cause I feel so rotten, so how can I have indigestion?’

‘That’s not good.’ Kate stared down at the young girl and in a swirl of memories saw herself. ‘Poor you.’ She stroked her hair. She saw the slight puffi-ness around the eyes, the tiredness, that protective maternal hand that crept over her stomach. Her voice dropped. ‘Any chance you’re pregnant, Luce?’

Lucy’s eyes flew open and the sudden fear in the young girl’s face was enough confirmation. Kate sighed under her breath for the loss of youth coming Lucy’s way and a smidgen for the prick of envy. She wished she’d had the sense to ask for help like Lucy had.

Though in Kate’s day Mrs Schulz mightn’t have been as easy to approach as Kate or Sophie would be, even if Kate had been able to get all the way to the township from the home station.

She stroked Lucy’s shoulder. ‘Everything will be fine. I’ll just take your blood pressure, poppet. You don’t look well to me either.’

By the time Kate had done a full physical assessment the window shutters were banging against the walls outside and the howl of the wind was clearly audible. Kate barely noticed it as her concern grew for the young woman in front of her.

The flying doctor would have to come back and pick her up because there was no way she could manage Lucy here. And there was no way she wanted to because she knew what it could cost.

Lyrebird Lake Maternity
Every day brings a miracle…

Release dates

UK – August 2009. Buy PREGNANT MIDWIFE: FATHER NEEDED on MillsandBoon.co.uk now
Australia – September 2009.

Single and pregnant –
she’s about to be rescued!
Rescue medic Angus Campbell never fails to meet difficult situations head on. But bonding with his
new-found son needs more than professional training – it needs his heart and his time. His childhood home, Lyrebird Lake, is the best place to find both of those things…
Pregnant midwife Mia is expecting a new arrival – but not this six-foot sex god and his son! Mia does her best not to get involved, but Angus can’t stop thinking that, with Mia as his wife, his son and her baby would have the perfect family.

Excerpt

‘Is this the right place, Dad?’

Angus Campbell looked at the son he still couldn’t believe was his and patted Simon’s shoulder awkwardly. ‘Yes, mate.’ How did one learn to be a ‘dad’ in one weekend? Angus pushed the thought away, raised his hand, and knocked on his own father’s door. ‘I just needed a minute to get my head together.’

He was talking to a closed door and the lack of response was unexpected. Angus strode to the window and peered in.

The house was quiet, something he couldn’t remember it ever being. When you were brought up in a country doctor’s residence there was always someone coming or going. At the very least the housekeeper, Louisa, was usually there.

That would be the Louisa his father was going to marry. Another idea he had to get used to.

He turned the handle of the front door and, sure enough, it swung open. They’d never locked the front in his time either.

He looked at Simon and then peered down the central hallway again. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone is home.’

His words fell away as the door to the bathroom opened and out of a cloud of billowing steam, framed by the door, stepped a very pink—and delightfully curved in all the right places—woman. And she was only just wrapped in a leaf-green towel, putting him in mind of a rose on a dew-laden morning.

Angus learned his new son was a gentleman when Simon spun on his heel and faced the other way, unlike his father.

He should really do that too. Instead, Angus met the steady green eyes assessing his arrival and unashamedly enjoyed the spectacular view. ‘Sorry.’

‘So I see.’ Her voice was level and delightfully throaty, and she could have been dressed in a three-piece business suit given her composure. She held his gaze and he lost sight of the rest. ‘Can I help you?’ she finally asked.

Impressed, Angus did avert his eyes for a moment. ‘I’m looking for Ned.’ He looked back. Yep. Dewy rose. ‘Does he still live here?’

‘Ah.’ She nodded as if something had been confirmed. ‘The prodigal son! We heard you were coming. They’ve all left for the hospital to see the new baby. Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.’

She slipped into a room two doors down and shut the door firmly.

Angus blinked and stepped back.

‘She can handle you, Dad. Watch out.’ Angus turned to look at this young man he barely knew, his son, and tilted his head.

‘Really? On what knowledge do you base that assumption?’

Simon grinned. ‘On my knowledge of women.’

So that explained it? The kid wasn’t even twenty. ‘How can you have such knowledge of women at your tender age?’

Simon flashed him a cheeky smile and Angus felt that pang again that he’d missed seeing this amazing young being grow up. No doubt he himself would have been a different man if he’d known he’d had a son. Angus felt the anger rise again and he damped it down ruthlessly. It was okay. He knew now.

Simon went on. ‘Because I have four sisters and you’ve been working eighty hours a week all over the world since I was born.’

Angus thought of the extremely desirable women he’d dated for short periods in far-off places over the years and decided his son didn’t need to know his father had more than a little experience himself. ‘So you know about me and not the other way around?’

‘Mum filled me in.’

Angus swallowed the bile in his throat. That would be the woman who had told Angus she’d miscarried this boy-man twenty years ago. The one woman he’d loved and wanted to marry who had married someone else.

His son went on. ‘She said she had to in case something happened to her.’

Angus drew a discreet breath to remove the overtones from his voice. ‘Well, I wish she’d told me about you earlier.’

Grey eyes met grey and he saw a little of his own anger in Simon’s usual good nature. ‘So do I.’

Mia Storm, oblivious to the amusement she’d left in her wake, shut the door firmly and leant against it. Hunk alert.

There was something about that big, craggy man at the door that sucked the breath from her lungs and accelerated her heart rate in a totally unwanted response, but it was okay. She knew it was a hormonal reaction that she could control. Would control! She was coping with pregnancy hormones, wasn’t she?

She’d come to Lyrebird Lake to start anew, build a good life for her unborn child and herself, fresh and immune to the destructive hold men like him seemed to have over her.

Not precisely him, because she didn’t know him from Adam, but there was that look in his eye that said he’d like to take half a dozen steps forward and carry her back into the bathroom and kick the door shut.

Her arms broke out in goose-bumps. Where the heck had that come from? She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she stepped away from the door as if there was a blowtorch on the other side.

He was Ned’s son, for crikey’s sake. A man that had walked out of his father’s country doctor’s residence twenty years ago and not bothered once to see if dear, sweet Ned was still alive, or so her friend, Misty, said.

No doubt after he’d had his way with her in the bathroom he’d be gone from her life just as quickly as the man who’d run from the child growing inside her.

Stop it!

Nobody was having their way with anybody in the bathroom and she needed to take control. She was good at that.

Mia ripped off her towel and pulled on her briefs. Now that she came to think about it there had been two people at the door, but she couldn’t remember anything about the other one except that he’d turned around, as he should, when confronted by a person undressed in their own house.

Not like… Angus. That was his name. She clipped her bra and spun it to the front. The big A, more likely. Mia stepped into her green shorts and yanked her ‘Fight Breast Cancer’ T-shirt over her head and glanced in the mirror.

Her hair bounced red ringlets all over her head like a frenzied mattress and she squeezed and rolled the coils so they flattened onto her head until most were confined by the elastic band in the middle. She hated the unruliness of her hair as the one thing she couldn’t control.

He’d been tall so she pushed her feet into her high-heeled sandals and straightened her shirt over her slightly rounded waist. She didn’t look pregnant yet.

Right, then.

She was back. He and Simon had retreated to the veranda and he’d considered going over to the hospital to look for his father because he’d behaved badly in there. He should have backed out of the door and knocked again, but his usual ease with women had been poleaxed by the vision in the hallway.

The vision looked him up and down and he saw that she was actually quite ordinary. Well, ordinary in an extraordinary way. Actually rounded and somehow… lush. Not really ordinary at all.

‘I’m Mia Storm. One of the midwives. I board here. I gather you’re Angus.’

She was a summer storm all right. Still in pink and green, hot as all get out one minute then drenching him with a cold shower of disdain, then blowing information at him like a gust of leaves. She looked like a militant hybrid with a rosebud mouth. She was hot!

He couldn’t think of a thing to say and he had to be saved by a nineteen-year-old Lothario. It was embarrassing. And ridiculously backed up his son’s impression of his father’s lack of experience. If it weren’t so mortifying, it would be amusing.

Simon stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘I’m Simon, the son he didn’t know about, and I’ve dragged him here to see the grandfather I’ve never met. You’ll have to forgive him. He’s still adjusting his horizons.’

Mia looked from Simon to Angus and her face softened. Simon had certainly taken the gust out of her storm and Angus could only watch in admiration. She smiled at both of them, the sun came out, and now he wouldn’t be able to speak for another ten seconds. What the heck had happened to him?

‘Hello, Simon.’ She chuckled delightfully, Angus thought fuzzily, at Simon’s ingenious explanations, and then Simon leant forward and kissed her cheek.

Angus frowned. The little upstart. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe he really had missed the boat on social behaviour.

‘And does your father have your winning ways?’ She tilted her head at him and somehow Angus knew she’d forgiven his faux pas in the hallway and even might feel sorry for his lack of social graces compared to his son’s.

He cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, Mia. I shouldn’t have opened the door. I thought the house was empty.’

Simon butted in. ‘Apparently Dad hasn’t socialised much in the last twenty years, but he’s really good at disasters.’

Thanks, son. That made him sound so promising. ‘Okay, Simon. Mia doesn’t want to know about me.’ Angus’s eyes were drawn back to hers. ‘You said my father was over at the hospital with the new baby.’ A thought tickled his sense of the ridiculous and he glanced at Simon. ‘Not a new uncle or aunt for Simon perchance?’ Serve him right. Let the upstart work out the odds for that.

This time she smiled for him. And again it was worth waiting for. ‘No. Ned’s a bit past having babies I think. One of the doctors here, Ben—his daughter had a child. Ned’s gone over to pass a silver coin across the baby’s palm.’

It was strange how nostalgic that unexpected reminder of all his father’s superstitions made Angus feel. How had twenty years gone without returning to at least make peace with him?

Angus had been going to, or he’d thought of it, but there’d never seemed to be time between flights and international health disasters to get up this way. He’d been ashamed of his behaviour all those years ago and hadn’t wanted a rushed trip. And after he and Simon’s mother had ‘lost’ the baby it had been too heart-wrenching to come back in the early years.

Later it had always been the too-short breaks between missions he’d blamed. But that stood up poorly now. His father must have aged so much since he’d last seen him. ‘How’s Dad’s health?’

‘Apart from his eyesight and a stiff hip, Ned’s well.’ She looked into his face to gauge his reaction. ‘He’s well enough to marry Louisa and dance at his own wedding.’

‘I’m glad. It seems I’ve been fortunate that it’s not too late to catch up.’

She looked him up and down like a schoolmarm and he felt the dusting of disapproval for his negligence. ‘Very fortunate.’ Then she glanced into the house. ‘Do you want to come in and wait here, or do you want to look for him over at the hospital?’

Angus needed to get over his response to this woman before he met his father and opened up a whole new bag of angst.

He didn’t do sentiment, hadn’t for years, but right at this minute he felt emotionally laden and he needed to shake the excess from his mind first.

This morning’s first meeting with Simon, finding his son looked like a younger version of himself with better people skills and the realisation of all he’d missed out on. With its accompanying well of bitterness at Simon’s mother’s betrayal, which he’d had to hide from her son, and now he’d been knocked for six by the rose.

Angus lifted his kit. ‘We’ll put our gear inside. Then I think I’ll go for a walk.’

‘I’ll stay here and look around,’ Simon said, and grinned at Mia.

No doubt flirting, Angus thought. ‘As long as you’re not too shy,’ he murmured dryly to himself, as he followed his son and Mia into the house.

The room she showed Simon was positioned two doors along the central hallway from Angus’s. Mia was in the middle—so next door to him. He liked that and his belly kicked as if to let him in on the reason. Okay. So maybe he did know why.

He glanced up at the high ceiling in the central hallway and memories rushed in.

He glanced into Simon’s room, the one with the French doors that led out to the wide verandas. You could slip in unnoticed when needed, as he recalled nostalgically.

He remembered at least eight bedrooms at this end and the four larger rooms at his father’s end where his old room was and the day clinics were held.

There’d always been other staff staying here then as well, so this end had been technically out of bounds to him as a child.

He’d stolen kisses in one of these empty rooms with Simon’s mother twenty years ago. His father had been right to say that a kiss led to a lot more. He glanced at the boy beside him and thought again of all he’d missed.

‘Did you want to see your room?’ Mia spoke from his shoulder and he snapped back to the present day.

‘Thank you, yes.’

He left Simon and followed her. Actually, he spent the two seconds observing the way her little backside wriggled delightfully, and his body just came along for the ride. Good grief. He was having an adolescent crisis. No doubt because of the memories that were crowding in from the time years ago when he’d been a raging mass of testosterone. He had to snap out of it.

Suddenly he realised the back of her lovely neck was pinker than it had been and a slow smile tugged at his lips. So she’d noticed him too. She was really going to be cross with him now.

‘This is it.’ She stopped, but didn’t turn around, and again his mouth twitched. He had an idea she didn’t want him to see her blush and he was determined he would.

‘Thanks, Mia.’ He didn’t move to open the door and though she turned back she averted her face as she looked at a point over his left shoulder. Her cheeks were delightfully dusted with pink.

He waited, but she didn’t say anything so he let her off the hook. ‘I’ll put the bags in and have a wander, then.’

‘You do that,’ she said to the wall behind him.

Review

From Sheryl at Cataromance

Angus Campbell is a man who faces anything head on, especially after all the difficult situations he’s faced in his career as a rescue medic but he never thought that he would find himself confronting the past he left behind or the son he never knew about. Now it’s time for him to go home and Lyrebird Lake is exactly where he must confront his demons. Mia Storm knew that moving to Lyrebird Lake was the best decision she has ever made now that she’s expecting her own child but what she didn’t count on was finding herself attracted to Angus, a man who could leave her just as the father of her child did. But will they be able to find common ground? Or will Angus’ career take him away from the life that could be his?

Pregnant Midwife: Father Needed by Fiona McArthur is the third book in the Lyrebird Lake Maternity series and just as enthralling as the previous two. I loved how Mia and Angus first meet, the moment when Angus’ son shows him how to act like a gentleman, that is but one of my fondest recollections from the book. Pregnant Midwife: Father Needed is not only about awaiting a new arrival but also about beginning and reconnecting with loved ones that you never anticipated seeing again. Angus and Mia may be the hero and heroine but every other character makes an appearance and they leave an indelible presence too. Ms McArthur has created a series that is powerfully moving yet filled with characters that could be any other member of your family because they’re down-to-earth people who are just human like everyone else. Thank you Ms McArthur for a thoroughly enjoyable time spent in your world of Lyrebird Lake and I can’t wait to read of your many more delightful characters too.

Lyrebird Lake Maternity
Every day brings a miracle…

Release dates
UK – April 2009. Buy The Midwife’s New-Found Family on MillsandBoon.co.uk now
Australia – May 2009. Buy on eHarlequin.com.au

The single dad’s midwife bride.

When Misty saved the life of Dr Ben Moore she knew she would never forget the brooding single dad and the moment of tenderness they shared.

So the midwife locks their brief encounter away in her daydreams and sets off for a new life in Lyrebird Lake, where she meets the new locum…and looks into familiar blue eyes!

Struggling to cope with his daughter alone, Ben has also moved to Lyrebird for a fresh start. In this magical setting Misty and Ben rekindle that brief special moment they once had – something they wish they could hold on to for ever… And together they make Ben’s family complete.

Excerpt

Out of the mist she saw a man and a circle of shells.

Misty Buchanan knew it was the future and not a dream because she’d come to recognise the difference over the years. She hadn’t expected a premonition while beach fishing on this deserted coastline because she’d been so caught up in the pleasure of the salty breeze in her face.

Her sight shimmered and dimmed and she accepted she had no choice but to watch as she closed her eyes…

He balanced on a jumbled spit of rocks beside some seagulls, and even in the haze of time his torso looked spectacular against the backdrop of the ocean as he cradled the bird against him to unwind the twine. She couldn’t see his face but there was something about his concern for the tangled gull that felt familiar on a different level.

When Misty had been younger it had frightened her to see people and situations with such clarity with her eyes shut, but now she accepted it as part of her life, albeit a small part, for only rarely did the future affect her present.

Though this gift brought responsibility with it and her heart thumped with the double-edged sword of what could be revealed.

The bird in his hand was suddenly free and he stepped back out of the way.

Misty frowned as she lost the sight and then the mists cleared again. She drew her breath in sharply.

His head smashed against the rocks as he fell and then his body rolled into a green wave to float without direction away from the rocks.

The vision dissipated and she knew it was useless to attempt to retrieve it. She had been shown all she would be.

Misty spun and her fingers clenched on her beach rod and bucket as she raced towards her Jeep. Once there she tossed them into the back haphazardly as her gaze scanned the distance for clues.

The Southern Queensland beach stretched for miles both ways and each ended with a rocky outcrop into the ocean.

In the distance a flock of gulls soared above a tall white lighthouse that overlooked the water like a guardian.

The visions never came without the opportunity to somehow influence the course of events so she’d have to trust to instinct as she slewed the vehicle with reckless speed through the sand towards the lighthouse.

Misty’s vehicle slid to a halt and she threw open her door. She grabbed the boogie board she kept for belly surfing and the hot sand squeaked in protest as she tore across the beach and onto the grainy boulders of the outcrop. All she could do was pray this was the correct headland.

Her stomach plummeted as she gazed into the choppy green water between the swells. Nothing. It had to be the wrong headland!

As she turned to race back to the car her final glance caught the roll of a long brown arm and then she saw his lifeless body as he slid face down along the back of a wave.

‘Help,’ she muttered unhappily as she looked at the rocks that broke the swells as they drove in.

‘Big breath,’ she encouraged herself out loud, then scrambled inelegantly to the water’s edge and dived into the next wave with the board under her. Her breath sucked in as the cold water splashed around her and dormant resuscitation drills pounded into her mind as she paddled furiously towards her target.

The occasional swell washed over her face and she spat out salty water as she tried to calculate how long he would have been unconscious.

That first touch when she grasped his arm gave her a rush of relief that at least she’d made it out to him. His skin was warm even in the water and she heaved his arm and shoulder over until he rolled half over the board and she could tread water beside him. By default his head rose from the water. She sank below the surface to push his other armpit onto the boogie board and his weight came off her so she could rest.

‘Hello. Wake up. Open your eyes.’ But there was no response when she shook his arm. Twice she blew into his cold lips and twice he didn’t respond.

Another wave washed over both of them, She needed to get him to shore. ‘Stay with me, friend,’ she urged into his ear as she dragged the board around to face the beach. She steered him sideways away from the rocks as the desperate urgency of his condition propelled her through the water faster than she would have dreamed possible.

Twice more she blew into his mouth between swells and then a larger swell closed in on them and she angled the board so that they were lifted swiftly towards the beach. Another big swell carried them until a sudden wave swept them forward and tumbled them in an ungainly pile in the shallow water. She spat out seawater as she twisted on her side to hang onto him.

The wave that had been powerful enough to throw them there seemed intent on proving it could pull them back. He began to slip and she knew she didn’t have the strength to return to the water after him.

‘Come on,’ she gritted out between her teeth, and she yanked him towards her with a desperate heave and he slid across the sand. The wave receded and it was then she noticed the tiny rivulets of his blood that went with it.

Her heart pounded noisily in her ears as she dragged in welcome air before she rolled him over and pulled him an extra foot away from the reach of the next wave.

His eyes were open, blue like his lips, and his white face was as unmoving as his chest as the water drained away from around him.

It was too late!

She bent to lay her ear against his battered chest. Thump… Thump… Thump… She could hear it. He had a heartbeat. It was slow, less than forty beats a minute probably, but so much better than no heartbeat at all.

She pushed him until he rolled onto his side and water trickled from his mouth, but he didn’t move.

She shook him and he rolled back onto his back. ‘Hey. Wake up, you!’ Misty tilted his head and after a quick glance to check his airway was clear she breathed another two quick breaths into his lungs as she watched his chest rise. Yes. Out of the water now she could tell there was chest movement.

She pushed rhythmically on the lower third of his sternum to compress his ribcage and prayed cardiac massage would speed his sluggish heart. Thirty quick depressions, then Misty pinched his nose and blew into his mouth again.

After several desperate cycles he twitched and finally stirred, his chest moved of its own volition, and he gurgled a bubbling stream of sea water as he instinctively rolled onto his side.

Misty sat back and drew deep panting breaths of her own as the stranger coughed and wheezed his way to life.

Her shoulders began to shake in earnest and she wrapped her arms around her chest in comfort as she stared down at him. Hot tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks along with a strangled sob of mixed euphoria and horror. She sucked in a big breath to calm herself and squeezed her arms around her body harder.

Focus. Don’t fall to pieces yet. She could hardly believe it.

He was alive.

She glanced out at the ocean in incredulity and her pretty pink boogie board bobbed merrily in the swells as it drifted out to sea.

She’d done it.

She glanced down at the broken strap on her wrist and strained to remember when it had sheared.

Who cared? Someone would enjoy the board.

Ben Moore hovered in a beam of light and stared down at his body as it floated in the water. He dreamed in flashes that defined his life.

Each flash contained an ocean of memories. His daughter’s birth, his wife’s death, a patient’s family hugging him, a baby’s first breath, a mermaid with long auburn hair and green eyes holding out her hand.

He smiled at her beauty. He was definitely dying. Something jolted him and he felt himself fall.

The other pictures faded away until only her vivid emerald eyes remained, and they came closer as she kissed him. Then he was coughing and retching and reality crashed in on him along with the fire in his lungs and the pain in his pounding head.

When the fit settled he took another tearing breath and hoped to avoid the painful mix of seawater and air, but it was not to be. When that convulsion died down he eased his shoulders from the gritty sand on which he was lying and ran his hands over his lacerated chest.

The surging waves lapped his feet and above him knelt the mermaid in person—except she had the most beautiful thighs in tattered denim shorts and long gorgeous legs—definitely not a mermaid, he thought fuzzily.

He glanced at her fine boned arms and the slender frame that was clearly outlined in the singlet top plastered to her skin. How on earth had she dragged him above the level of the waves?

As if she knew what he was thinking her voice washed over him, warm and reassuring, and the fact that he could hear the sound from her lips meant he really had survived.

‘We rode a wave in and I pulled you the rest of the way,’ she said. ‘You’ve hit your head and torn your skin on the rocks.’

Her long red hair was tied in a limp ponytail that dripped silver rivulets of seawater between her breasts and she flipped it over to her back, which helped the thin singlet to plaster itself to her breasts even more.

He sucked his breath in with disastrous results and, when that spasm passed, the air in his lungs finally began to feel less like lava and more like the cooler gravel he needed to survive. ‘Thank you.’ His cracked words finally emerged.

He inhaled gingerly again. ‘What happened?’ Amazing how much energy just a few words took.

‘Don’t talk yet.’ She winced at his obvious discomfort and her hand slid down over his wrist, smooth and cool and very practised as she palpated his pulse. ‘I guess you fell into the water and hit your head. You nearly drowned.’

She was looking at him as if he might not understand but he understood all right. She’d saved his life and put her own very much at risk to do it.

He just couldn’t think of anything to say at that moment.

She went on and he closed his eyes as he listened to her talk more to herself than to him. ‘I need to get you to a hospital for observation. Salt water can cause delayed pulmonary oedema in your lungs.’

He’d have to move or she’d think he couldn’t and he didn’t want her having to spend more energy than she already had on him. He eased himself into a sitting position but even that hurt.

Ben rocked his head gently and couldn’t help the tiny groan that escaped at the pain from his skull. It hurt like hell but he didn’t need a hospital. He needed his bed.

‘Thank you.’ He paused for breath. ‘Just my shack.’ He paused again. ‘I’ll be fine.’

He watched her roll her eyes and it amused him in a ridiculous, semi-hysterical way. No doubt it was the euphoria of having been snatched from the jaws of death.

‘You need a good check-up,’ she said. ‘Does your head swim?’

He put his hand up for her to grasp so he could stand. ‘Better than my body does when I’m knocked out, apparently.’

‘A joker,’ she muttered. ‘Just what I need.’ Misty took his hand and shared his weight as he rose, but still he swayed against her before he could steady himself, and she knew he was hanging on to his balance by sheer willpower.

The feel of his strong hand left hers bizarrely energised and she looked down at his fingers curled around her own. She frowned at the strangeness of a connection that shouldn’t even have registered then shrugged the thought away. At this moment she needed to help him stagger to her vehicle and that was enough to contend with.

When at last she had him there she didn’t like the way his head lolled against the seat as if he could barely support its weight.

‘You OK?’ she asked as she reached across and buckled his seat belt.

He mumbled something she didn’t catch and Misty stared anxiously into his shadowed face as she leaned back into her own seat. The strong line of his jaw and angled cheeks were softened by the fact he hadn’t shaved that day. Funny how that darkened stubble in no way detracted from his rugged good looks. He’d become even more attractive with the passing of time. Even more attractive? Ouch! Mind on job, she admonished herself silently.

That was if he survived. ‘Hello? Wake up.’ She rested her hand on his damp shoulder. ‘I need directions if you want me to take you home.’

She was definitely having second thoughts about leaving him alone in a beach house to die. If he started to look worse than he did now she’d ring her brother at Lyrebird Lake and ask what to do, even though Andy’s hospital was hours away, his advice would help.

‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t open his eyes but his apology emerged clearly this time and she felt the building tension ease from the tautness in her neck.

He paused as if it hurt to talk, and she realised it probably did.

‘Name’s Ben Moore. My beach house.’ He paused again. ‘There’s a side road past the camping ground on the left.’

Copyright © 2000-2009 Harlequin Enterprises Limited.
All rights reserved.

Review

5 STAR Review: The Midwife’s New-Found Family by Fiona McArthur
by Sheryl from Cataromance

A powerfully moving tale of human fallacy.

Misty Buchanan had saved the life of Ben Moore and for one moment in time it seemed as if destiny had brought them together but then reality surfaced and Misty knew that she needed to start her new life, one she never expected Ben to enter. But when he does she knows that theirlives are connected in more than one way. Ben is trying to cope with his daughter and all the problems in being a single father as well as his own insecurities, so will Lyrebird Lake and Misty be able to heal his wounded soul. And will their one moment in time be enough to build the future that could and should be theirs?

The Midwife’s New-Found Family by Fiona McArthur is a fascinating contemporary that draws the reader in and then delivers a powerfully moving tale of human fallacy. I enjoyed perusing this book because it had a feel-good attitude to it and I thoroughly loved reading about all of the characters in it. Ms. McArthur is a fairly new author for me and she has also become one of my favorites. Her characters are determined to succeed in their chosen fields but they also have a frailty to them that makes them appear human and down-to-earth while also struggling to fix problems and discover what destiny has in store for them. This book should definitely be on anyone’s list as a story to read.
Read this review on Cataromance.com

Tiny baby: father needed!
Finding she was pregnant was the best moment of midwife Montana’s life. But days later she was widowed. Now nine months have passed, she has a tiny infant, and she knows it’s time to make a fresh start.
Dr Andy Buchanan has offered Montana a job at Lyrebird Lake because it’s the perfect place to build a new life. Her courage impresses him. And he just can’t get the beautiful new mum out of his mind…
Every time Montana sees her baby in Andy’s arms her resolve not to get involved crumbles. He’s the perfect father. And he makes Montana’s life feel complete once again…
Lyrebird Lake Maternity
Every day brings a miracle…

Excerpt

NEW YEAR’S MORNING began with the faintest hint of grey shimmer on the horizon and Montana gently stroked her fingers across her swollen stomach.

This had been the first New Year’s morning without her husband and the last she would spend at the mountain house before the new owners moved in.

The sea was a long way off, somewhere below the white fluffy quilt thrown over the mountains, shrouded like the future she couldn’t see but did have faith in.

Eagles Nest Retreat sat so high and wild that it overlooked everything and Douglas had loved it when he painted here.

The sky had lightened only enough to illuminate the deep drifts of mist in all the lower valleys across from the house, and she sat symbolically alone, and accepted it would always be so.

The first contraction squeezed gently, like the tendrils of dewed spider webs that stretched the tops of the stumpy grass, and she nodded when she felt the mysterious child within herald her intentions.

Montana had agreed with her two best friends, for her child’s sake not her own, it would be safer to avoid the mountains for the last two weeks of her pregnancy.

So it wasn’t Montana’s fault her baby had decided to come earlier.

She closed the house and gathered her shawl and water bottle and grasping the rail on the stairs made her way slowly down to her vehicle. To actually climb in the four-wheel drive proved much more difficult than she had expected and she chewed her lip as she started the engine.

The chug from the diesel engine scared a flock of lorikeets into flight a little like the flutter of apprehension she fought down while she waited for the engine to warm. Two more waves of pain came and went in that time.

As the contractions grew closer and fiercer a tiny frown puckered her forehead. It might not be as easy as she’d thought to drive the truck for two hours in early labour.

After thirty minutes of careful navigation down the misty mountain the sweat beaded her forehead and Montana’s breath fogged the windscreen with the force of the pain. Though still focussed on what lay around the next corner she found it more difficult to divide her thoughts between road and birth.

The dirt track twisted and turned like the journey her baby would make within her and on an outflung clearing overlooking the mist covered valley she had to pull over to rest and shore up her reserves.

A pale grey wallaby and her pint-sized joey stood at the edge of the clearing and their dark pointy faces twitched with fascination at her arrival.

Montana’s labour gathered force and she glanced with despair at the distance to the valley floor. It was impossible to descend the mountain safely when she couldn’t concentrate on the road and suddenly the tension drained from her shoulders as she slumped back.

So be it.

When the pain eased she slid from the truck and spread a rug on the damp grass and tucked her shawl and water beside her. She eased herself down and sat with her arms behind her to watch the deepening of the horizon from coral to pink to cerise as the sun threatened to rise through the cloud below.

When the next surge had dissolved she sighed and gazed skywards. Maybe he was looking down.

‘You should be here, Douglas.’ A single tear held her loss that still pierced so keenly.

She felt the whisper of cool breeze brush the dampness on her cheek and suddenly she was not alone and she didn’t care if she imagined him because the next pain was upon her and she needed his strength with her own to stay pliant on the waves of the contractions.

‘I am here,’ the wind whispered, ‘you are safe.’

‘I love you,’ she heard and then she listened to the nuances of her body and in her mind she watched the descent of her baby and squeezed her husband’s hand and the waves changed in tempo and direction and strength and suddenly the urge was upon her to ease her baby out into the world.

The sun cascaded through like the gush of water, her baby’s head glistening round and hard and hot in her hands, and then the next pain was upon her. Her baby’s head rotated towards her leg and the released shoulder slid down and through to follow.

In long, slow, seconds, her baby’s body eased into the world until, in a waterfall rush, legs and feet followed and in a tangle of cord and water and fresh broken sunlight, her baby was born.

The unmistaken sound of a newborn’s first cry startled the birds as Montana reached down and gathered her daughter to her forgetting the rope that joined them both and she laughed at the tug that reminded her that all umbilical cords were not long.

A daughter. Douglas’s daughter. She turned, not expecting to see him, yet so grateful she had imagined him in her greatest need.

The clearing was empty save for the mother wallaby and her skittish joey, and like the last of the night tendrils, they too disappeared silently as the fog rolled away.

She shivered.

‘You must be Montana?’ His voice was different to Douglas’s, not as deep or careful with enunciation, but the same timbre of quiet authority and caring drifted over her and that must have been why she didn’t jump.

She wound down the window and saw the darkest auburn hair and green eyes that proclaimed his relationship to her friend. So this was Misty’s big brother from Queensland. He towered over her door.

It seemed almost normal that Misty’s four-wheel drive had pulled up next to hers in the morning light and have this man stand beside her car door to look in.

He had to bend down quite a bit to her level and she smiled to herself at the trials of tall men. ‘Yes, I’m Montana. I gather Misty sent you?’

He nodded. ‘I’m Andy.’ He looked across at the top of her baby’s head snuggled into her chest with blankets over both of them in a big mound and he smiled.

To Andy they both seemed so peaceful despite the absolute isolation they’d met in. There was something so tranquil about the mother and daughter in this isolated spot that it was difficult to grasp she had birthed without support. ‘And who is this?’

Montana smiled and he felt the curve of her lips and the softening of her eyes right down to his combat boots and back up again where heat flickered in his chest like a hot coal from an outback campfire.

‘This is my daughter, Dawn,’ she said, and her serene voice wrapped around him like the fog he’d just passed through to get here.

‘Hello, Dawn.’ He smiled at the thatch of dark hair against Montana and the baby snuffled as if in answer. ‘I can guess what time she arrived.’

His smile faded and his training reminded him this woman had been without assistance. He framed the question as delicately as he could. ‘Any problems you need help with?’

She glanced at him and he felt the humour behind her voice more than he heard it when she spoke and the observation confused him. Since when did he pick up fine distinctions in tone from unknown women?

‘No, thank you, Doctor,’ she said. ‘Third stage complete and I’m not bleeding or damaged. My baby has fed.’

He didn’t like the way he was so conscious of his sister’s friend but maybe that was because he felt for her recent loss.

He knew he avoided emotions these days, had done for three years, it was the way he’d decided to stay and he empathised with her journey. But, actually, he was more than conscious of her.

They were on the side of a mountain for crikey’s sake and she’d just had a baby.

He concentrated on the things he was good at. ‘Right, then. Let’s get you out of here.’ He glanced around and decided where to reverse the vehicle.

Buy The Midwife’s Little Miracle by Fiona McArthur online now

Review: The Midwife’s Little Miracle by Fiona McArthur

4 star review of THE MIDWIFE’S LITTLE MIRACLE has been posted to the Cataromance site.

Posted By sheryl On March 30, 2009 In Harlequin Medical Romance, January 2009, Reviews

Montana thought that learning she was pregnant was the best moment of her life but days later she suffers a tragedy and now, nine months later, she is about to welcome her child into the world. She knows that her life has changed drastically and when she is offered a position at Lyrebird Lake by her best friend’s brother she leaps at the chance, hoping to make a brand new life for herself and her child. But she hadn’t counted on her attraction to Dr Andy Buchanan, the man offering her the new start or her emotional struggle to not feel like she’s betraying her husband. And for Andy, he knows all about her conflicting emotions having suffered a tragic loss too. But will they both get the second chance at happiness that fate is giving them? Or will they forever hide their growing feelings for one another?

The Midwife’s Little Miracle by Fiona McArthur is a contemporary romance where love builds slowly but once experienced, it won’t let go. I really enjoyed this book and the romance because it wasn’t an intense passionate need but a subtle and caring courtship. Montana and Andy have both suffered a loss and Andy knows what Montana is going through but he feels an attraction to her that won’t go away but he doesn’t want to push their friendship too far. Whereas Montana knows that she needs to start again but in some ways still clings to the past. This story isn’t just about romance but also of starting afresh with a new future beckoning if only they can reach out and grab it. Ms. McArthur is a fairly new author for me but I can say it won’t be the last time I pick up one of her books. Kudos to her for a fantastic and enthralling romance.

Excerpt

The chapel floated like a snowflake against the backdrop of the lush Hunter Valley Gardens and the string quartet drifted silvery notes out over the waiting guests. Max Beresford stood tall and straight at the front of the church and realised that despite the romantic venue he’d condemned himself to the type of loveless marriage his parents had. Give me a sign, God. Am I a fool for going through with this? The procession music started. Too late. Max tilted his chin slightly as he watched the Matron of Honour walk haltingly towards him in some screechingly couture apricot material. There was something about the dogged yet vulnerable expression on the woman’s face that arrested his attention. He found himself sympathetic because he’d approached the altar with just such a halting approach. Max frowned. Was there a problem or was his new cousin-in-law to-be unbearably nervous? Nerves didn’t make sense because she looked gorgeous – fertile with her baby bump bulging beneath the shiny fabric – but gorgeous nonetheless. She paused again and seemed to suck air in through gritted teeth before she raised her chin and resumed her approach. Max knew Tayla had been reluctant to include her midwife cousin, Georgia, in the wedding party but he’d thought that due to Georgia’s unfashionable pregnancy and some vague hint that she was depressed. Maybe there were other reasons. Before he could ruminate on that thought his non-blushing bride staged her spectacular entry and the gasps from the congregation drew Max’s eyes towards his future wife. He could do nothing but stare. Feathers rippled and parted in the breeze and held Max spellbound. He blinked in disbelief. Tayla seemed to have been devoured by a white duck. Framed against the door for an extended moment, his bride’s shapely arms and legs stretched from beneath a strapless froth of feathers that only just covered her thighs at the front and fell in a frothy tail to the floor at the back. A large apricot bow around her tiny waist matched the rose in his lapel. Good grief, Max thought, and suppressed an ironic smile. He’d fallen into Swan Lake and he had never felt less like a prince. His bride floated up beside him, as did one of the feathers that had come unstuck and drifted just ahead of her in an eddy, and handed her feathered fan to the Matron of Honour who unfortunately seemed to have missed the one cue she’d been assigned to do. Cousin Georgia was not having a good day. He could see Tayla remained seriously unimpressed with her attendant. For Georgia Winton, being Matron of Honour had assumed the nightmare proportions she had hoped it wouldn’t. The first unexpected labour contraction had hit her as she entered the church at the precise moment the whole congregation had stared at her. The next contraction had grown to such intensity she almost dropped the bouquet as her cousin handed it to her. When she was able, Georgia offered an apologetic glance to bride and groom, which neither acknowledged. Tayla had tossed her head in disgust and Max had continued to stare bemused at Tayla’s dress. Georgia clutched the bouquet like the dead duck it actually looked like, and forced her shoulders to drop as the pain eased away. Distraction, distraction, distraction, she reminded herself. There was plenty of that. Max Beresford, the groom, was pretty distracting. She’d known of him, but until now, not by sight as he’d missed rehearsals because of some crisis at the hospital. The real Max was tall, broad shouldered and far too handsome for his own good but his kind eyes had surprised her with their warmth. Though younger than she’d expected, he looked every inch the new Department Head of Obstetrics for the North Coast Region of Hospitals – a position he was taking up after Tayla’s and his honeymoon – and she was surprised how much she instinctively felt that Tayla had chosen well. After Georgia’s baby was born, Max would apparently find her a midwives position in the region, so she really did hope she wouldn’t ruin his wedding. Max’s brother, Paul, who had played groom each time they’d practised the wedding service, seemed pleasant enough but not a warm person and he stood beside Max now as a paler shade of his brother. Unfortunately Paul’s eyes were fixed a little too intently on his brother’s wife-to-be. Meanwhile Tayla, gloriously aware of everyone’s attention, proceeded to lift her eyes theatrically towards the stained glass depiction of Jesus on the cross and shimmy her feathers. Georgia could see no softness or devotion or anything redeeming from her cousin despite the perfect setting and the man beside her. On the groom’s part, even the smile Max gave his fiancée seemed strained and disconnected. Georgia ached with disappointment. Weddings shouldn’t be like this. What was wrong with everybody? Except for her parents who had remained blissfully in love until their death, she had begun to despair all marriages were destined to be travesties? Tayla she could understand. Tayla had always wanted the extravagant white wedding and the rich husband, topped off by the bridal magazine shoot currently in progress. While her cousin would enjoy being married to a handsome consultant as she flew in to join Max briefly for social occasions in whatever city or town he visited, Tayla didn’t intend that her marriage would markedly change her life. Though she had said to Georgia, ‘of course she loved Max’. A tiny worry line drew Max’s thick black brows together even further and Georgia glared at him for not savouring the moment. Didn’t he realise the sacredness of marriage? What was in it for Max if he didn’t have some affection for his bride? Romantically, Georgia had hoped this wedding would restore her faith in true love. She’d hoped there would be an iridescent joy between these two as they stood before God and declared their troth. Then the third contraction gripped her belly and all else was forgotten as the searing pain snatched her breath at the peak and this time the intensity drew a stifled gasp she couldn’t contain. Even the minister looked across at her with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t fair. Labour was supposed to start with gentle regular contractions gradually increasing in intensity. She would have been supported by her midwife friends, at home, with birdsong playing. Not the Wedding March.

As the baby fights for its life in the special care unit, Dr Stewart Kramer knows he must do all he can to save it – he believes it to be his late brother’s baby.

But as the baby’s mother recovers Stewart gets closer to her, and discovers there is much more to her than anyone first thought. And both she and the baby Stewart has worked tirelessly to save have found a way into his heart…

Excerpt

STEWART KRAMER leant on the over-track bridge and waited for the Brisbane train to come into view. He contemplated the fierce Australian sun as it shimmered off the entwined silver rails on the track and tried not to think about other things he should have been doing instead of cleaning up after his late brother.

As a child he’d imagined he might work on the railway, anywhere away from Sean. Stewart was distracted by a commuter train that pulled in and then headed back into Sydney.

A swarm of passengers flowed around him as they crossed the coathanger-shaped pedestrian bridge then surged down the stairs to road level.

Desiree’s train had been delayed, luckily, because a tiny set of twins had put his own arrival back an hour while his team had worked to stabilise them in the unit. He had a gut feeling about the larger twin that he’d follow up if his registrar hadn’t already, but his thoughts were interrupted by the loudspeaker warning of the Brisbane train’s impending arrival.

Desiree’s latest mobile text message had suggested his newly acquired sister-in-law and baby niece were travelling in the second carriage from the driver’s and he began to think of moving down to help her with the pram. No doubt she would be as helpless and fashion-brained as all his brother’s women had seemed in the past.

No matter. He would look after them, and the new baby on the way. Even in death his older brother had left wreckage for Stewart to clean up.

He still couldn’t believe that Sean was dead, despite the fact that his brother had danced with danger for so many years on the darker side of life and had then suddenly left a widow and children. Sean could have been so much more.

He wondered briefly if Desiree was her real name or the stage name she’d chosen before she’d married Sean.

The blue inter-city express suddenly appeared around the bend and Stewart straightened. The train seemed to be making up for its tardiness with an extra burst of speed as it passed the departing commuter train. The flyer resembled a blue ribbon in the wind as it streamed towards him and Stewart pushed himself off the rail and forced some enthusiasm for his new family.

Stewart glanced again at Desiree’s train, and at the edge of his vision a silver freighter continued to ease smoothly onto the track in front of the oncoming express as if it had all the time in the world.

Seconds slowed and the initial scream of brakes from the express did nothing but pierce the air with fruitless warning before the trains collided.

The explosion of two great forces meeting with a scream of metal on metal shrieked into the morning routine like an invasion from hell. Smoke and debris shot skywards confirming the sight his brain had dismissed as impossible.

Instinctively Stewart closed his eyes as the horrific scene grew to a pile-up of carriages he’d only imagined seeing as a child on his father’s miniature line. This was no young boy’s accidental manoeuvrings—this was adult folly of criminal proportions.

Stewart’s mind recoiled at the thought of the damage such twisted metal would make on frail human flesh as he turned and scanned the bridge to gauge the fastest way to the tracks.

Adrenalin surged as his heart pounded in his chest and he took the stairs three at a time down to the platform. Somewhere in the wreckage his sister-in-law and niece would be lying, along with many others.

Stunned commuters stared without comprehension up the track at the jumble of carriages. A black pall of smoke hung in the morning sunlight and slowly, piercingly, a lone woman facing the catastrophe began to scream as Stewart vaulted down onto the track and began to sprint up towards the wreckage.

More bystanders must have joined him from the platform because he could hear the echo of running feet on the track behind him or maybe it was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then everything seemed to slow as he came abreast of the devastation.

The engine on the freighter lay buried beneath the smashed driver’s cab of the express and there was no way of sighting either driver. Stewart barely paused as he hurdled over debris and made his way to the first of the passenger carriages.

Common decency and the doctor in him forced him to stop and render what assistance he could, despite his brain knowing what he would find.

He peered through a rent in the side of the carriage and the scene inside would haunt him for ever.

Instinctively he narrowed his line of sight from the grand scale of destruction to find the nearest body, but without equipment the twisted metal didn’t allow his entry and he scanned the faces he could see for any sign of life. Nobody moved, not even a twitch, so he eased back to try the next carriage as a young man appeared at his shoulder.

‘This carriage will have to be left for the rescue workers. We can’t get in and we’ll be more useful to those we can reach.’ The young man swallowed and nodded.

A group of half a dozen commuters had arrived the emergency workers arrive. Watch for power lines.’

Stewart closed his eyes and sent a prayer of thanks as a wail of sirens filled the air, assuring him that he wouldn’t be in charge of this horror.

He saw tragic events and terrified parents in his paediatric consultancy work but to face this shocking reality made him wish for a nice simple premature twin birth and his team.

He dreaded what he would find in carriage two as he skirted hot metal and clambered towards the opening between the carriages. What he inhaled was smoke, and a fire was the last thing they needed. Given the blasting heat of the day, he should have expected it.

A paramedic, the first of a strong contingent alighting beside the tracks, sprang from his vehicle and touched Stewart’s arm. ‘I’ll take over, sir.’

Stewart glanced at the man in mid-stride but didn’t falter. ‘I’m a doctor. I’ve a relative on this train. I’d like to stay.’

When she woke, she could hear the weak cry of a baby as the acrid tendrils of smoke began to fill the carriage.

The infant cried again. A baby? A sudden jolt from her rounded tummy and then a pain squeezed her abdomen rock hard beneath her searching fingers, but she couldn’t connect the thoughts. There was something about a baby.

The pain eased and instinctively she looked for the crying infant, but when she tried to move she realised her arm was caught.

She lay on her side under several pieces of luggage and a broken seat with her cheek against the cold glass of the window.

It took a few moments to realise the window lay where the floor had been. The carriage—she must be in a train—resembled a stacked bonfire and something was burning.

Even then fogginess about the sequence of events distanced her from the horror.All her instincts focussed on the baby’s cry despite the smoke and the noise of people shouting and the creaking of hot metal.

The woman tried to move her arm but her whole system seemed sluggish. Or maybe she was faint because, apart from a pounding pain in the side of her head, blood squirted impressively under her broken watch. By the size of the increasing pool beside her arm she knew that wasn’t normal.

Fuzzily she watched the puddle grow until her thoughts sharpened and slowly she dislodged the broken seat rail where it pinned her wrist. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all. She felt for the deep gash and slid her fingers over the site, wincing at the return of feeling. The urge to lie down, to invite the blackness that hovered at the edge of her mind to settle over her and fall asleep, ached like a suppressed yawn inside her.

With more pressure from her fingers, the rhythmic pulse of blood slowed to a trickle and somewhere in the fog of her brain she became conscious that if she let go there was a strong chance she would bleed to death. The thickening smoke made her cough and other fears crowded her mind.

Lost for the moment, from time, place of origin or destination, the woman knew she didn’t want to die.

There was another reason she had to live but right at that moment she couldn’t pin the incentive, just concentrated on the fact that live she would.

The baby cried weakly again and she turned her head. There was someone else who needed her but she had to stop the bleeding from her wrist or she wouldn’t be any use.

She threaded the thin pink pashmina from around her neck and thought fuzzily what a pretty colour it was. She wadded one end of the soft fabric and wrapped the other end awkwardly around her wrist and tucked it in as tightly as she could. The blood seeped through but not as fast as she’d expected.

Then she pushed herself upright so she could crawl forward over the wreckage. She winced at the lance of pain from her damaged arm as she began to search for the crying baby.

Low moans and weak cries began to drift from beyond the door of her carriage and a few strong shouts suggested help was on the way.

Her carriage seemed ominously silent but she couldn’t remember how many people had been seated. She hoped the silence was due to the lack of passengers.

‘Come on, baby, cry again,’ she muttered, glancing around, then almost toppled off a seat that wasn’t as balanced as she’d thought it was.

The baby cried weakly again and the woman’s arm caught on a small leather backpack with a for mula bottle spilling from a rip. She knew the bag belonged to the baby, she couldn’t remember why, but it seemed important so she slid the pack over her shoulders and continued her search.

Then she saw her. The baby lay pinned in her pram, seat belt fastened and her frightened little face screwed up. She looked about a year old.

‘Well, hello, there, little one. It looks like you had the best seat in the house.’ Her voice cracked as the chill of deep coldness encased her.

The baby whimpered and blinked. Her bright blue eyes were damply lashed and the woman smiled when the infant gave a wobbly grin and held out her hands.

The resilience of children, she thought longingly, as she dug for more strength. There was no way she’d be able to lift the carriage seat that trapped the pram but maybe she could ease the baby from the restraint and drag her out.

The difficulty would be to juggle a baby with one arm while she crawled.

She sat back on her heels and fumbled to undo the top two buttons on her shirt. She lifted the hem of her stretchy knitted shirt and struggled to inch the baby inside next to her skin until the infant was tucked tummy to tummy against her body with her little face popping out under the neckline of her shirt. The woman’s neck and shoulders ached with the weight but the baby seemed to like it.

When she began to crawl again each movement seemed harder than the last and the weight hanging under her enticed her to lie down and sleep. The infant clung like a small limpet with her frightened whimpers goading her rescuer on.

She crawled clumsily towards the crazily angled steps of the carriage but the smoke became so acrid the steps seemed much further than she’d anticipated. Her strength ebbed as she coughed.

An old lady lay crumpled, eyes open, staring sight-lessly past the window. She didn’t blink. Her purple hair looked incongruous at an awkward angle. With sudden clarity, she realised the woman was dead.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled to the woman as she crawled past and the fog thickened inside her head. Blood pulsed from her wrist again and when a man’s face appeared above her he seemed to fade in and out of focus.”

Dr Ailee Green knows she can’t start a relationship with Dr Fergus McVicker—she is about to undergo surgery that will save her brother, and put her own life at risk.

When she sees the handsome single father and his young daughter, however, Ailee feels she can give him one special gift before she leaves—she can help them become the family they deserve. And Fergus won’t let her run out of his life, and so he offers her something she cannot refuse!

Eliza has been a magnet for the brokenhearted, who, ultimately end up breaking her own. When she meets handsome but wounded Dr Jack Dancer he all but sweeps her off her feet. Then one night Jack makes love to her. She knows she is lost, and is devastated by his coolness the next day…

Eliza knows that to avoid her heart being broken again she must leave. Jack finally realises he’s got to tell Eliza how much he loves her, and the only way he’s going to persuade her to become his bride is to take her by surprise!

“Fiona McArthur once again expertly combines the pace of A&E and the joy of the maternity ward, with all the warmth and intensity of a heart-stopping romance.”

Excerpt

“ARE you OK?” Dr Jack Dancer, Medical Director — in fact, only doctor at Bellbrook Hospital — tilted his head. He tried to bring together this city woman’s list of qualifications and experience — then reconcile it with her youth and the tiny package she came in. Actually, Eliza May looked like a garden fairy with attitude. Her shoulders were tense, her head tilted and she glowered fiercely at him through slitted eyes.

This woman looked ten years too young to qualify for half of her résumé and, with Mary going, the hospital needed every skill this city woman was supposed to have.

He’d thought his cousin’s agency recommendation extraordinarily glowing and he wondered what fanciful planet his cousin had been on when she’d recommended this woman.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was not loud but contained an element of self-confidence that made him look at her again. She straightened and the movement added a desperately needed few centimetres to her height. Now he could see her eyes.

Jack felt a ripple shimmer down his back and his breath stuck somewhere behind suddenly sensitive ribs.

Good grief. Her eyes were amazing — vibrant green, alluring eyes that dared him to step out of line and taste the consequences. Even the jagged gold circles around her pupils seemed to glow and shimmer and draw him in. He couldn’t look away.

Jack forced his diaphragm back into action, and dragged his gaze lower to accelerate past memorable lips and a determined little chin, but knew he was in trouble when he skimmed too low and had to bounce his attention out of her tightly restrained cleavage. What on earth had got into him?

“Lead on, Dr Dancer.” Now she was decisive and he felt the earth shift again under his feet. No fluttery fairy here. He quietened his reservations — and his libido. Energy vibrated and the new Eliza May held such promise for Bellbrook Hospital that he would never risk jeopardising her suitability with unwanted attention.

Perish the thought.

Whatever shock wave had belted him was past now and he wouldn’t think like that again.

Realistically they had no one else, and apparently she was multi-skilled and dynamic, though a bit of a chameleon. Still, they all required diversity when Bell-brook bestowed some of those moments of unusual interest and everything went haywire.

He had a full waiting room in his surgery at the side of the hospital and his sister-in-law, Mary, had been due to start maternity leave a month ago. His cousin had said Eliza was reliable.

“Right, then.” He didn’t look at her again. “As soon as we find our matron, she’ll show you around. I won’t see you until later when I do my evening round at the hospital.”

“Good,” Eliza said quietly, but with emphasis, and Jack blinked. Did she mean good she didn’t have to see him till later, or good that the departing matron would show her around?

Strangely, both explanations piqued him and he glanced down at her as they made their way to the front of the hospital. This new matron came up to his shoulder yet her smaller legs didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up with him.

Her hair shone with red glints as they passed under a light and her fringe swung across her face as she turned her head to look up at him. She floated beside him on invisible wings and matched his speed.

“Where’s the fire?” She lifted one finely arched brow as she dared him, and he couldn’t help smiling at her.

“Touché,” he said and slowed. “I forgot your legs were smaller than mine.”

“Thought you might have,” was all she said, and he realised she jangled his nerves and wasn’t overawed by him at all. Well, that was good. Wasn’t it?

Jack was pleased to see Mary up ahead.

Matron Mary McGuiness was round-faced and round-bodied, though, of course, most of her abdomen belonged to the baby inside her. Mary was the hospital.

The staff, and Jack, had a problem imagining anyone else in her position. He hoped Eliza May could do half as good a job in the time she was here.

After the introductions Jack was eager to get away. Most of his eagerness had to do with his waiting patients and a backlog of paperwork, but a percentage had to do with a sudden need to ring his cousin and find out a few more facts about Bellbrook’s new Acting Matron. Something about Eliza bothered him.

In fact, several things about her bothered him in a way he hadn’t been bothered for years.

He turned to Mary. “I’ll leave Eliza with you, but after showing her around I want you signed off, and with your feet up. Doctor’s orders, Mary!” He nodded at Eliza. “Good luck. You can phone my office if you’re worried about anything.”

Eliza smiled blandly. Not if she could help it, Eliza promised herself grimly. Thank goodness he was going. Dr Jack Dancer had everything she wanted to keep away from in a man, let alone one she’d have to totally rely on.

Eliza regretted another bad decision. She may as well rip the heart out of her chest and tear it in two. All he needed was some psychological disaster that kept him from forming a relationship and he’d be irresistible to her twisted mind. After eight weeks with her he’d be ready to marry — someone else.

She watched Dr Jack Dancer stride away and Eliza dispassionately imagined she could hear the creak of the fabric stretching across the strong muscles of his long legs and taut backside. Then there were his shoulders.

The man’s physical presence was too much. Any woman cradled in Jack Dancer’s arms wouldn’t be afraid of falling — until he dropped her.

“This will be your office.” Obviously Mary McGuiness hadn’t been sidetracked by Jack’s physique and Eliza knew she was immune. Unobtrusively Eliza dug her nails into her palms to remind herself.

“Do I need an office?” Back on track, Eliza couldn’t help returning the other woman’s friendly smile because there was something about Mary that warmed the cold parts in Eliza left by too many people over the years. Mary would never let anybody down.

Mary nodded sagely. “Rosters, hunting up staff if someone is off sick, stock ordering, company reps, interviews with the local newspaper. Heaven forbid — disaster control.”

“Good grief.” Eliza laughed and then stopped, surprised at herself. She hadn’t laughed freely for a while. There was such a different feel to this little hospital, a warmth and genuineness that probably radiated from the woman in front of her.

“I’m sure most of those occasions will wait for your return but I can see the need for a private space.” Eliza looked out the door and into the corridor with the clinical areas. “You say most of my work is hands on?”

“I think you’re pleased about that.’Mary smiled again and drew Eliza out of the office. She pointed at doorways as they walked the length of the small building.

“On the semi-acute side, we have two two-bed wards and four single rooms, each with their own bathroom.

We were fortunate to build this wing with a bequest from a grateful former client.”

The rooms were light and airy and all the fittings sparkled with good care. Only two of the rooms held patients.

The first room held two men. “Meet the new matron, gentlemen. This is Eliza May.”

In the bed beside the door, a man in his early thirties had both arms bandaged to the shoulder with just the tips of his fingers poking out the ends.

Mary stopped beside his bed. “Joe came off worse when he lit a bonfire with too much petrol.” Mary shook her head at his folly.

“Because Joe’s hands and arms are involved he needs help to care for himself. He should be in Armidale Hospital but Dr Dancer has a lot of experience with burns and they let Joe come home if he stays here for another few days.”

“Hi, Joe.” Eliza smiled. “When I was six I fell off my horse and broke both my arms. For six weeks it was hell with no hands. I have a lot of sympathy.”

Joe sighed with relief. “Reckon you understand, then.” ‘Next to Joe is Keith.” Mary smiled at a seventy-ish-looking man with leathery skin and crinkled stockman eyes. “Keith’s supposed to be going home tomorrow. He ruptured his appendix without telling anyone. He wouldn’t come in to see the doctor and nearly paid the ultimate price. We’ve kept him a few extra days to make sure he doesn’t work too hard.” Mary narrowed her eyes at the old gentleman. “I’m not sure he’s right yet.”

“Now, Matron.’Keith had a slow drawl and his lilting voice brought back memories to Eliza’s mind of her father, as did the seriousness of the old man’s expression.

He held out his hand to Eliza. “Good to meet you, new Matron. I’ll shake for Joe and me.”

His work-roughened hand felt cool and welcoming in Eliza’s and she began to recall the sweeter side of country towns. These were the facets to country life that the city missed — that she missed — and she had never realised the fact before. Of course she’d never miss anything enough to move from the city permanently and there were aspects of country life that terrified her.

Small towns, gossip, everyone related to everyone else. Eliza had grown up in such a place and shuddered at the memory of when her mother had left them. Her father had closed his door on the wagging tongues, and incidentally Eliza’s friends, and she’d never been so lonely. But she didn’t want to think about that.

And she didn’t want to be drawn into some tiny niche of a town where they would all know her business and invade her personal life.

She’d even told her friend, Julie, at the agency that. “Bellbrook might be a little too warm and fuzzy for me, the way I’m feeling at the moment,” she’d said, but Julie had seen a benefit that had escaped Eliza.

“There’s only one doctor you have to work with.” Julie had avoided Eliza’s eyes when she’d said that, now that Eliza came to think of it.

“Hope you enjoy your stay, Matron.” The old man’s kind words penetrated Eliza’s reflections and she thanked him and moved on with Mary.

They moved on to the next room and Mary spoke to their only maternity patient. “This is Janice, and her son Newman.’The baby squawked as if he’d recognised his name and the three women smiled.

“Newman was born two days ago in Armidale by Caesarean, and Janice arrived this morning to convalesce here for the next few days. Meet our new matron, Janice. Eliza May.”

“Congratulations, Janice. He’s gorgeous.” Eliza stroked Newman’s tiny wrist. She’d read the patient notes later and find out the rest because there’d be a Caesarean story there. She’d always enjoyed her stints in Maternity.

Eliza’s not-so-great ex-fiancé, Alex, had been reluctant to even speak of babies and months ago Eliza had decided she’d be better sidetracked by more illness-orientated nursing until her fiancé was ready to discuss children. But she’d missed working in Maternity.

Midwifery was such a fascinating area of nursing. If she wasn’t going to get married, maybe she could just enjoy other people’s babies.

Two Courageous doctors – one unforgettable assignment!

Working in the wilds of Papua New Guinea, Dr Jonah Armstrong is against Dr Jacinta McCloud joining him on a dangerous medical mission. He tragically lost his sister there, and refuses to risk someone he cares deeply about again.

But Jacinta is headstrong, and doesn’t listen to Jonah’s warning – and very soon they’re both held captive in the jungle. In the face of grave danger they finally give in to their mutual feelings. But a dramatic escape leaves Jonah with amnesia, unable to remember the magic they shared – and unaware that Jacinta is pregnant with his child…

24/7 Feel the heat – every hour… every minute… every heartbeat

Reviews

Kelly Bowerman – CataRomance

Feeling flat? Need excitement in your day? Try Fiona McArthur and her novel ‘Dangerous Assignment’ a rodeo ride of emotion and danger.

Dr Jacinta McCloud had triumphed over tragedy and pain to build a life for her self and then along comes Dr Jonah Armstrong to shake the foundations of that life. Taken over by his passion for his work with Missions Pacific in Papua New Guinea and just a little bit by him, she travels to PNG. Little does she think that her whole life is about to be changed in tragic and unsuspecting ways.

Jonah Armstrong was pole-axed from the start by mesmerizing Jacinta McCloud, but the last thing he ever wanted was for her to follow him to dangerous Papua New Guinea. He’d already lost his sister there and he didn’t want send another woman he loved into danger, but he can’t fight his feelings for her. Will these two lovers have a happily ever after or will exotic, deadly PNG tear them apart forever?

This is my first Fiona McArthur novel but it certainly won’t be my last. I enjoyed this powerful, well written novel. I liked the spice of danger mixed in with love and true dedication to helping others. The characters were skillfully written and both Jonah and Jacinta have past tragedies that motivate their actions. The reader feels for Jacinta when she finds her lover is alive but has completely forgotten her and their love they shared. You can see just how strong the heroine has been made by her past circumstances, to not be entirely shattered by this tragic revelation.

The technical terms dotted throughout the novel reassure the reader that the author knows what she is talking about. What make’s this book is the author’s descriptive words and the ability to encourage readers see the picture she is painting. The PNG setting is as beautiful and deadly as Fiona depicts in her book. My fav scene is the opening sentence, ‘Jonah Armstrong groaned as he surfaced through the fracturing thinness of his delirium towards the sound.’ One of the best openings I have ever read!!

Fiona McArthur and ‘Dangerous Assignment’ grab your attention from the very first sentence and they don’t let you go to you are fully satisfied. Don’t miss this book, it’s a keeper.

Excerpt

JONAH ARMSTRONG groaned as he surfaced through the fracturing thinness of his delirium towards the sound.

“Jonah. Can you hear me?”

There was something about the cadence in her voice that calmed him. The nightmare receded as he eased out of the strangling mists and opened his eyes a sliver as he tried to focus.

The face of the speaker was surrounded by a halo of light, which seemed reasonable for an angel, and she must be an angel because he didn’t recognise her. Jonah’s tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak, and she brought her face closer to hear.

“Melinda’s ring,” he whispered, but even his eyelids hurt when he opened them and the struggle with their weight was too great.

Jacinta McCloud, Director of Emergency at Pickford General Hospital, glanced at the man’s large, capable hands and tapped the finely wrought signet ring on his little finger. There was a tiny butterfly fashioned from gold on the signet and she shivered at the sight and rubbed her shoe over her ankle where her own tiny tattooed butterfly hid unnoticed. “There is a ring on your finger, Jonah.”

Her voice again. He sent the message to his brain to open his lids, but the synapses weren’t listening. The peppermint of her breath touched his face. “Jonah, the airline ticket in your wallet says you flew in from Papua New Guinea two days ago and your passport says you spend a lot of time there. When did you take your last antimalarial?”

This time his muscles obeyed and her eyes were dark and caring. He finally articulated his answer. “Last night. In pocket.”

Jacinta slid her hand into his trouser pocket, retrieved the tablets and read the label. Then she stepped back from the bed and spoke to the nurse beside her. “If it’s malaria, presumably this strain is resistant to Doxycycline. We’ll just have to try something else,” she murmured.

When Jonah regained consciousness, he accepted he was finally on the mend. Eyes forced open, he stared at the tiny square of morning light coming from behind the edge of the curtain as if it were a signpost to the normal world. Tentatively he stretched his legs, and although the ache was there, the flooding pain of movement from yesterday had subsided.

Warily he turned his head on the damp pillow as someone approached his bed. Still fuzzy, he squinted to bring the woman’s two heads together. Once she’d fused, he could see she had the darkest brows he’d ever seen above brown eyes filled with the compassion he’d noticed yesterday. So she wasn’t an angel.

“Good morning, Dr Armstrong. I see your fever’s broken.”

Jonah swallowed and licked his lips as he tried to form the words his brain had no trouble coming up with. She must have noticed because she moved swiftly to the bedside table, procured a plastic tumbler of water and directed the straw into his mouth before he even realised he was desperately thirsty.

He sighed as the coolness slid down his throat and the roof of his mouth no longer felt like the floor of a bat cave.

“Thank you.” His voice cracked with weakness and he despised the sound. Still, it was better than being dead.

“The strain of malaria you had was a particularly vicious one and I thought for a while we were going to lose you.”

He could tell she was genuinely glad he was awake, and the knowledge warmed the last of the cold spots in his body. “Tell me about it.” The idea was vaguely amusing that he could survive tropical snakes, spiders and guerrilla activity in the depths of Papua New Guinea and succumb to a mosquito in the height of civilisation.

“And you are…?” He could feel the strength seeping back into his limbs and there was sweetness to the feeling that reminded him he shouldn’t take his body for granted.

“Jacinta McCloud. I’m one of the doctors from the emergency department here at Pickford.”

She smiled and suddenly he was light-headed again, but this time for a different reason and the old barriers refused to assemble as he’d trained them. Blame the malaria, or fate, or timing because there was something about this woman that slid like a stiletto straight to the core of him in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

His life did not include women you couldn’t leave behind!

Almost as if she sensed his panic, she turned away and walked to the window. He watched the way she moved, her back ramrod straight like one of those old-fashioned missionary nuns he’d grown up around. Yet somehow it didn’t come off. She would always be unmistakably a woman.

And there he was again, speculating about someone outside the parameters of his life. Angry with himself, he pulled his disgustingly weak body upright past the pillow until the cold Formica of the back of the bed was hard against his spine, and he had control.

Jacinta McCloud felt as febrile as this patient had looked the first time she’d seen him, and impulsively she swept back the curtains to allow the morning glow to flood the room. When she slid the window open, cool air damped the heat in her cheeks and memories of yesterday and her first sight of Jonah ran through her mind.

Pushed through the casualty doors by the ambulance personnel, he’d been agitated by the movement of the trolley and she’d spotted him immediately. He’d mumbled semi-audible phrases and the depth of his despair had made Jacinta slip her fingers into his hand to comfort him on his trip to the assessment room.

Strangely, he’d seemed to rest more easily on the bed at her touch, and when the stretcher had stopped and she’d retrieved her hand, he’d twisted his head on the pillow as if searching for the comfort he’d known briefly.

The imprint of his long fingers on hers had burned with more than the man’s fever. Not the sort of fanciful notions she was known for.

Then, last night at home when she’d turned out the light to go to sleep, his tortured blue eyes had still haunted her. Almost as if she’d imagined they had some deep connection she’d never known about, which was bizarre, as she was the least fanciful person she knew. Whims and past lives had no place in Jacinta McCloud’s busy schedule and neither did malarial-stricken mystery doctors who blew into Casualty. It was probably just the lure of tropical medicine that piqued her interest, not the man.

Since returning to Sydney, courageous midwife Kirsten Wilson has been trying to forget Hunter Morgan. Going up in the helicopter again to rescue tiny babies is just what she needs to put their relationship behind her.

But then Hunter arrives as the new doctor in charge! He’s still attracted to Kirsten, but can’t bring himself to commit to someone so feisty and daring. That is, until a helicopter crash forces them to sort out their priorities…

Reviews

THE PREGNANT MIDWIFE is the final book of the midwife trilogy about three Australian sisters who have devoted their lives to children. Kirsten’s bravado and her history of taking chances send her spiraling into an emotional vortex when her platonic concern for a friend causes Hunter to imagine the worst. Nothing in her past has prepared her to deal with the pain of losing her heart to a man who is unable to trust. Hunter means well, but the hurt he’s suffered is too deep to allow him to see Kirsten’s honesty and trust. After meeting Kirsten, his defenses begin to drop, but he doesn’t realize that her bubbly, caring personality holds no guile, and he assumes she is unfaithful like his ex-wife.

Believable characters, down-to-earth dialogue, and incredibly detailed medical scenarios make THE PREGNANT MIDWIFE both enjoyable and riveting. The author’s background in medicine and her knowledge of the field shine through in the exciting and heart-stopping scenes when Hunter and Kirsten deal with their tiny patients. Kirsten’s sisters, Abbey and Bella (MIDWIFE IN NEED and A VERY SINGLE MIDWIFE), make brief appearances with their physician husbands. They and other secondary characters round out this excellent story.

For a fun, quick read from which you can learn a lot about pediatric medicine and also enjoy a heartwarming romance, I highly recommend THE PREGNANT MIDWIFE.

Jani Brooks
Romance Reviews Today
18th October 2004

I just completed The Pregnant Midwife. I absolutely adored this story! This was the first of your books that I have read, but indeed not the last.

Thank you so very much for your beautiful storytelling. I already miss Hunter and Kirsten. I am sure I will visit them again. I look forward to reading your other works.

Alexia Madigan, California, USA

Excerpt

Dubai — United Arab Emirates

THE crack of the starter gun echoed across the desert and silenced the noisy crowd for a heartbeat as the annual doctors versus nurses camel race began.

Hunter Morgan, pediatrician and contestant for the doctors’ side of the neonatal nursery, kicked his camel into a gallop as the crowd roared. Ex-patriot medical staff can’t get out much, he thought with a wry grin, though he noticed even some black-robed Arabs were among the throng. He wondered fleetingly what the attraction was in the hospital games for them.

To be honest, he wouldn’t have been here if Kirsten Wilson hadn’t dared him. She was a determined woman. She’d cornered him in the neonatal unit and he could still remember her enchanting tenacity as she’d ensured his participation. She’d promised to pound on his door in the dark if he didn’t show, to let the tyres of his car down, to tell everyone she was pregnant with his baby, and he stifled a laugh at what a frenzy of gossip that would have caused.

It was his own fault people took bets on any sign that his immunity to women was failing — he’d never weakened before.

Still, Kirsten had made him laugh more in the last few months than he had in the last five years.

She was an amazing woman. Hunter clamped his lips shut to stop the flying sand from coating his tongue. He pulled his scarf more closely into his face, despite the early heat, and wiped his eyes so he could focus on the delicate shoulders of the woman riding in front.

Kirsten was tall for a woman, he knew that. When she was standing in front of him in the unit, he could just see over her head. He used that trick to keep the mental distance between them. He’d discovered if he spent too long looking into her wonderfully expressive face he’d lose track of what she was saying and just enjoy the show.

He really didn’t think she was aware that she threatened his peace of mind.

The first marker was coming up and she still sat lightly, and delightfully, on her throne-like seat as if she’d grown up there. He wasn’t quite as comfortable but that didn’t mean he couldn’t win.

Dormant competitiveness surfaced where it had been lacking. “Second really isn’t good enough,” he said to himself as he urged his camel on, tapping with his crop to let the beast know.

Kirsten was only winning because of her lighter weight and those strange encouraging noises she was making to her camel, but he had to admit she could ride. Her white burnoose billowed out behind her and the sun glinted off the flying cloud of red hair which she usually kept confined. He realised she was attracting the attention of the raucous local contingent.

The corner barrel appeared and he almost checked the gait of his animal until he saw she wasn’t going to slow her beast. She skidded around full pelt and he watched in trepidation. Her camel swayed un-steadily and she hauled on the reins to direct it into the turn. The woman was mad — and scared the be-jesus out of him when she was like this — but he felt his own blood begin to pound.

Incredibly, still mounted, she flashed back past him towards the winning post and, as usual, her eyes were wild with exhilaration and the joy that seemed to shine on everything she did. In that instant, the barrier he’d erected against the entire female race five years ago finally splintered into a thousand pieces of flying sand and he woke up to life again.

Which was even more reason why he couldn’t let her win. If she could send the safety factors to hell, so could he.

Hunter and his camel rounded the barrel at a gravity-defying angle and for a moment he thought he was going down with his mount, but his camel strained to keep its feet. Swaying high above the sand, Hunter urged his mount to greater speed. The beast responded to the command in his voice. This wasn’t a charity race day any more. This was a personal struggle for supremacy between him and that alluring woman.

He charged her down with sand flying and the other contestants left far behind. The cheers from the hospital crowd were a distant buzz in his ears.

“Come on,” he growled, and the camel flicked its ears as if to tell him to go to hell. The ground was a blur below him but he could see nothing but the red hair in front which was drawing closer. Inch by inch he gained on her until he passed her camel’s tail and then its bony rump and finally he was level with Kirsten’s shoulder.

She laughed at him, tucked in her chin and slapped her camel on the rump with her tiny crop, and pulled away for a moment. But her camel was tiring, finally, and Hunter edged back level so that right at the end they crossed the finish line together.

Both camels slowed to a trot and then finally stopped, their hairy sides heaving and breath snorting from their huge nostrils. “Well ridden, Sister Wilson,” Hunter had to concede, as they pulled up.

“Well ridden yourself, Dr Morgan.” She laughed back at him, barely breathless. Then she slid lightly down the great height from her camel without waiting for the boy who was running towards her. Kirsten moved to the camel’s face, stroked the giant’s neck and whispered something in its ear. For a horrible moment there, Hunter thought she was going to kiss the disgusting beast.

His own camel turned and nipped at his leg as if to say, I’ve given you all I’ve got — now get off!

He tapped behind its knobbly knee with his crop and the camel knelt down to allow him to slide off.

The other riders began to dismount around them and he shook hands with the contestants. Hunter drew a deep breath and smiled. He felt terrific.

The flags fluttered in the morning air and the col-ours of the barrackers suddenly seemed brighter than he’d noticed earlier. It really was the most beautiful day and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed something mundane like the weather. His eyes were drawn to Kirsten, surrounded by her fellow nurses, and he forgot the weather to appreciate the woman.

Later, on the winner’s dais, when Kirsten stood beside him to share the trophy, Hunter frowned down the calls of their fellow medical staff to kiss her. Unexpectedly, she stretched up and kissed his cheek before he realised what she was doing.

Kirsten’s hair smelled of some herbal shampoo and a whiff of camel, and the feather-light feel of her lips against his cheek was more delightful than he was prepared for. His hand lifted of its own accord and caught her chin as she started to turn away, and he tilted her face back towards him. When he swooped to steal his own kiss, he wasn’t sure who was the most surprised — him or her.

Hunter hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted to do this. She felt right in his arms, as if she belonged there. It had been so long since he’d held any woman and now he knew why. He’d been waiting for Kirsten.

The feel of her lips against his was magic and when he released her, he could see the surprised recognition of something special mirrored in her beautiful green eyes. Then she was swept away by an admiring crowd of mostly male hospital staff. This time he followed.

Bella Wilson, the beautiful new midwife at the Gladstone hospital, has spent the last year regaining her independence and doesn’t want obstetrician Scott Rainford confusing things. Twelve years ago their relationship ended painfully. Now, working side by side on Maternity, they find their chemistry is as strong as ever.

But Scott has his own dilemmas that need resolving before he can commit to Bella, and Bella won’t let Scott hurt her all over again. Only by laying their troubles to rest will they realise how strong their love really is and that they no longer need face life alone.

Reviews

Gladstone, New South Wales, Australia – Present Day

Bella Wilson is looking forward to a new life independent of men and their lies. After a painful breakup with an unfaithful lover, Bella has returned to Gladstone to work as a midwife with her older sister, Abbey, and live in the family home. Her reunion with her sister is tempered by the fact that Dr. Scott Rainford is still the chief obstetrician at Gladstone Hospital, the same Scott Rainford who, twelve years before, had been the first man to break her heart. As a youthful eighteen-year-old, Bella fell hard for the older doctor, but Scott broke off the budding romance because of their age difference.

Of all the people for Scott to have to see every day, Bella Wilson would be the last one on his list. Despite his failed marriage and twelve years’ distance, Scott’s heart still aches for the lovely, red-haired Bella. But Scott has other issues to deal with, such as the recent discovery that he has a twenty-year-old son. After his divorce, he and his wife had little contact, and now it’s obvious why — she didn’t want him to know about their child. Until recently, Scott and his son have been unaware of each other’s existence.

Now that Abbey is on maternity leave, Bella assumes her sister’s responsibilities as the unit manager of the maternity ward, and her daily interaction with Scott is taking a toll on her. Luckily, Bella has other things to keep her busy, such as managing the boarding house that her sister and aunt have been running in the old family home. Taking in pregnant girls and new mothers until they get their feet on the ground keeps Bella from dwelling on her own difficulties. But Scott keeps intruding into her life, giving advice, showing concern when Bella allows a young man to move into the house, and making her heart ache whenever she is in his presence. Scott has made it clear that he can’t commit to another relationship, so what future do they have?

A VERY SINGLE MIDWIFE is the second book in the Wilson Sisters trilogy. Bella is a level-headed young woman who knows what she wants in life — and she wants Scott Rainford, even if he doesn’t seem to reciprocate her feelings. Scott is a pragmatic loner who thinks he’s too old for a happy-ever-after ending. This book is a very realistic account of how people deal with life’s twists and turns. Rounding out the story is the author’s excellent medical research and the down-to-earth dialogue.

A charming, well-written love story, A VERY SINGLE MIDWIFE has plenty of joy and a few tears for readers.

Jani Brooks
Romance Reviews Today

Excerpt

Friday

THE birthing suite was quiet as Bella Wilson refilled the cup for Abbey to scoop ice chips as she needed.

Bella glanced across at her brother-in-law, Rohan, as he gently stroked his wife’s back. Arched protectively around her on a low chair, his legs were either side of Abbey’s thighs as she perched upright on the big blue ball. She rocked and moaned softly with the strength of the contractions and Rohan winced in sympathy with the sound.

Her sister’s time was near. “I’ll ring Scott,” Bella whispered, and Rohan nodded. Nobody else seemed to notice the tremor in Bella’s voice as she said it.

Although a very experienced midwife, Bella had chosen to be an onlooker at the time of birth rather than the person responsible for the safe arrival of the new Roberts baby. She wanted to see Abbey’s face, and Rohan’s, as her niece or nephew was born. She wanted to be a part of the whole experience and not just the mechanics of the birth. Scott should be the acchouchier.

Bella couldn’t think of anyone she trusted more than Scott Rainford, Gladstone Hospital’s Director of Obstetrics, to bring a baby into the world. Despite the fact there was still awkwardness between them, at least on Bella’s side.

When she returned from the phone, Abbey’s moans were a little louder and Bella went across to lay her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s OK, you’re doing beautifully, nearly there.”

Abbey opened her eyes and stared at Bella as if to ground herself. “I think I want to push.”

Bella nodded. “Do what your body tells you to do.’ Both women, as midwives, smiled at the litany and then Abbey’s eyes widened as the feeling became stronger.

Rohan sat up straighter as he felt his wife tense with the change in sensation. “You OK, sweetheart?”

Abbey nodded and Rohan rested his hands on her shoulders as if to transfer energy from his body into hers as she began second stage. “I love you, Abbey,” he said, and kissed her shoulder.

Bella turned away. The strength of the bond between Abbey and Rohan brought tears to her eyes. She’d thought she had her chance at being a part of someone like that once, but now she believed that type of relationship wasn’t for her. She could be strong on her own.

She heard the door open and there he was. The man who had once held her heart in his hands and let it go. Bella forced herself to meet Scott’s eyes and their glances clashed before she turned back to Abbey.

The next contraction would be here soon and the birth was very close. She switched off all thoughts of Scott. “Do you want the birth stool or are you going to move to the bed at the last minute, Abbey?’ Bella hovered to help her sister when she’d made her choice.

“I’ll sit on the bed, so I don’t have to move afterwards.”

Bella nodded as she strained to hear Abbey’s answer and lifted the beanbag onto the bed in readiness.

After the next pain, Abbey stood up and Bella and Rohan helped her onto the bed until she was sitting upright with her hands behind her knees. The next pain came swiftly and the baby’s thatch of dark hair hovered at the entrance to the outside world before disappearing again.

“The baby took a look and went back,” Scott whispered, and they all smiled, though Abbey’s smile was tired.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you say that over the years…” Her voice strengthened. “Just didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it to me.”

“One more push, Abbey.’ Scott had always felt enormous admiration for the woman who had been midwife in charge until today, but during this labour Abbey had been inspiring with her belief in natural birth and her quiet acceptance of what her body required her to do.

“Here comes your baby,” Scott said quietly, and his heart constricted as the newborn eased into his hands as if the infant had finally decided it was time to arrive. Scott glanced at the clock as he gently lifted Abbey’s baby up onto her stomach. “Ten past three born. Wonderful, Abbey.”

A birth never failed to uplift him but when he looked at Bella and the joy in her face from this moment, it was as if the dam broke and his own loss overwhelmed him. He acknowledged the two things he’d most wished for in life would never be his. The woman he loved and the son he’d never met.

Scott heard Rohan let out a heartfelt sigh of relief that echoed around the room and it snapped him back into focus. As his medical partner and friend, Rohan had delivered hundreds of babies himself, but Scott could see that none had drained his friend like this.

“We have a son, Abbey.’ Rohan’s voice was thick with tears. His fingers stroked Abbey’s cheek as if he still couldn’t believe he’d been so blessed, and Abbey smiled up with a love and maternal joy that, despite its intimacy, shone to the darkest corners of the room.

Excluded, Scott had to look away as she decreed, “We’ll call him Lachlan.”

Bella smiled at the name Abbey had always fancied. There was something about that private glance shared between husband and wife that made Bella look at Scott, and for once the usually enigmatic Dr Rainford couldn’t hide his bleakness.

Bella’s heart squeezed at the look of raw pain in Scott’s face, but then it was gone. He leaned forward to congratulate the parents and Bella was left with unanswered questions.

Questions for later, Bella thought as she kissed her sister, brother-in-law and precious dark-haired nephew, and returned to what she should be doing as the new midwife in charge. Euphoria at the safe arrival of Lachlan lightened her step as she bustled around and cleared the room of unneeded equipment. Abbey and Rohan deserved private time to share those precious early moments with their son and she would make sure it happened.

A fragment of her concentration tussled with possible reasons for Scott’s depression as she pushed the green-draped trolley into the sluice room. Then she heard the sound of the doctor’s footsteps as he followed her out of the delivery suite, and her fingers stilled.

“So you’re the new unit manager now that Abbey has given birth earlier than anticipated?’ Scott acknowledged the change in management but he didn’t like it. He hadn’t thought it through when he’d been told that Abbey’s just-as-well-qualified sister would replace his midwife colleague during her maternity leave.

Midwife Abbey Wilson lives for her job and her family. After a break-up with her fiancée she has stayed clear of men. But when Dr Rohan Roberts arrives at the maternity clinic in Gladstone, Abbey becomes aware of a man for the first time in years.

Abbey arouses Rohan’s desires and all his protective instincts. But Abbey is a woman in need herself. Rohan decides to reassure her that she is the sensuous woman he sees – and discovers his feelings for Abbey are far deeper than he’s bargained for. But can he stay?

Reviews

MIDWIFE IN NEED is a delightful story that deals with life’s basic needs — family, work, and the need to love and be loved. Abbey and Rohan both have obstacles to overcome before they can realize that they are meant for each other. Even though they have more in common than not, they battle each other and their inner selves until a nightmare from Abbey’s past forces them to team up to protect her and her tenants.

Although relatively short, MIDWIFE IN NEED is packed with excitement, conflict, and a host of excellent secondary characters. This wonderful, well-rounded story is both entertaining and well written. The first book in a trilogy about the three Wilson sisters, this story gets the author off to a good start!

Jani Brooks
Romance Reviews Today

Excerpt

“THE new doctor is on his way.” Michelle put the phone down and moved around the bed to hold the young woman’s hand. “He’s stuck at the railway crossing. Should be here in five.”

Abbey Wilson, Nursing Unit Manager of Gladstone Maternity, on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, nodded and sighed. They didn’t require a doctor’s presence for uncomplicated births, but this baby had shown signs of distress late in labour. The last gush of amniotic fluid had been thick green meconium liquor. Why did Scott have to have a sudden trip to Sydney when she needed him?

Apparently, the new doctor travelled Australia filling in as locum for general practitioners in small country towns. He’d done his anaesthetic training and also his Diploma of Obstetrics with Scott in England, so Abbey could hope he’d be competent.

“They say boy babies are more stubborn than girls but I am never doing this again,” panted Vivie.

Abbey smiled across at the young woman. How many times had she heard a woman in labour promise never to return?

“You’re incredible, Vivie. Hang in there, just a few moments to go,” Abbey said. “You still need to push because your baby’s head is a tight fit down here. We may have to take him over to the trolley to give some oxygen, but we’ll get him back to you as soon as we can, OK?”

Vivie nodded that she understood and then she groaned.

Suddenly the baby’s head started to move as Vivie pushed with the next contraction. With aching slowness his little crinkled forehead lengthened, and then with a rush his nose and lips were released from the birth canal.

“OK. Well done, Vivie.” Abbey slipped her finger in beside the baby’s head and sure enough a loose loop of cord was coiled around his neck. The pulsating coil didn’t have enough stretch to slip over baby’s head and wasn’t tight enough to warrant cutting prior to birth, so Abbey let it be.

As if by magic, Vivie’s baby’s head swivelled like the hands of a clock travelling from six to nine, and inside Vivie’s pelvis his neck untwisted to allow his shoulders to slip under her pubic arch.

Two minutes seemed to take for ever as they waited for the next contraction which would allow the rest of him to be born. Abbey had suctioned his mouth to remove any meconium that would otherwise be drawn into the lungs at his first breath, and waited. The bluish hue of his little face darkened and Abbey resisted the impulse to encourage Vivie to push without a contraction. In nature’s time, she reminded herself.

Finally, Vivie’s uterus hardened with the next contraction and she groaned again. Her son’s anterior shoulder dipped down then rose from the birth canal and Abbey gently supported his head as the rest of his body was born. Limp and pale, the baby lay on the bed between Vivie’s legs. Abbey uncoiled the cord around his neck and another loop coiled around his arm. His cord pulse was strong and above a hundred beats a minute but he made no attempt to breathe. He was stunned by his passage through the birth canal.

Abbey quickly clamped and cut the connection between Vivie and her son and Michelle leant over and lifted the baby up for Vivie to announce the sex.

“The ultrasound was right. It is a boy,” Vivie gasped as she leaned back against the bean bag.

Abbey glanced at Vivie as Michelle carried the baby over to the resuscitaire. “He needs some oxygen, Vivie. Michelle and I are going to dry him and use the mask. I’ll have to leave you for a moment.”

“OK.” Vivie’s voice was faint with relief that the birth was over. She closed her eyes. Vivie’s son lay on the resuscitaire like a pale rag doll, and when Abbey wiped him with a warm cloth, he jiggled flaccidly as the fabric moved over his skin. Dark blue eyes stared, open and unblinking, as Abbey wiped his face. She suctioned his nose and mouth again before gently placing the oxygen mask over his nose and chin while Michelle listened with the stethoscope to his heart rate.

Michelle nodded. “One hundred and ten.”

“OK. He doesn’t need any cardiac help. But he still doesn’t want to take a breath.” Abbey tilted the baby’s head into the sniffing position, compressed the green bag of the oxy-viva and watched his chest rise. The air pressure would encourage the inflation of his fluidfilled alveoli into working order. She started with three larger puffs, then settled into a rhythm of one small inflation of the bag per second.

When one minute had passed since birth, Abbey stopped her compressions of the bag and Michelle listened again.

“Still one hundred and ten.”

“We’ll give him a two for heart rate and he gets a zero for respiratory effort.” Abbey hated it when they did that, but consoled herself with the fact that his skin was pink from the oxygen pumping around his body. They continued with the respiratory resuscitation.

A firm knock tattooed on the hallway door. A broad-shouldered stranger in a cowboy hat and linen shirt entered the birthing suite and strode across to Abbey and the baby.

“I’m Dr Roberts, I’m filling in for Scott Rainford,” he said, and tossed his hat towards the corner of the room. Abbey blinked as the black Akubra sailed through the air to settle gently on the chair. The sight was so bizarre that for a split second she had trouble marshalling her thoughts.

That was what he looked like a marshal or sheriff in a cowboy movie. Or maybe the cynical gunslinger? Her mind clicked back into gear. “Dr Roberts. Thank you for coming.” She looked away from him to the timer on the resuscitation trolley.

Midwife Ellie Diamond convinces herself that it is the chance to bring up her young son in an idyllic coastal town that has lured her back to Bell’s River. It has nothing to do with the chance to work closely with her former love, obstetrician Dr Luke Farrell—the man Ellie promised to return to five years ago… Ellie discovers that Luke has changed as much as she has in the intervening years, though one thing that hasn’t is their fierce and irresistible attraction for each other. While Ellie dreams of a future with Luke, she fears that the secrets that separated them in the past could destroy their fragile relationship in the present.

Reviews

Well, as usual with one of yours, I really, really enjoyed it. Loved the medical details – the labours etc but especially loved the way you did little Josh’s symptoms and diagnosis. One of the great aaaaaaaah moments.

Pat U.K.

DELIVERING SECRETS is an exciting tale of lost love and found dreams within the drama of the maternity and delivery wards. There is nothing quite so poignant as that of a husband and wife in the throes of childbirth and the love that envelopes the act. Snappy dialogue and excellent characterisation make this a story not to be missed. DELIVERING SECRETS is a special book that will warm your heart and tug at your emotions for a long time to come.

Diana Risso
http://www.romrevtoday.com/

Excerpt

Her credentials were crumpled at the edges, and she smoothed the papers a little before she placed then on the desk. She recited her latest confidence mantra under her breath. You are a great midwife. He would be lucky to have you. The silence stretched on and Ellie had to break it. She drew a deep breath and smiled shakily.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Dr Farrell. Luke. You have a lovely surgery here,’ she felt inane but at least she was trying.

Luke almost sighed with regret. Lord, he’d loved her. Her voice still sounded the same as it always had – beautifully melodic – like the rhythmic beat of the waves he could hear at night in his bed. He frowned at the fanciful thought. He didn’t have fanciful thoughts about women in this office, and he’d stopped fantasising about Ellie McGuire ten years ago.

Or at least five since she’d failed to make good on their pact to return to Bell’s River. To make matters worse, Ellie hadn’t even had the decency to tell him herself that she wouldn’t be coming back. She’d left a message with his mother instead. Since then, Luke had decided that was all for the best. But why did she have to come back now!

He stared down at the papers but didn’t pick them up. He was at a loss to know how to interview her. Apart from the fact that he wasn’t masochistic enough to want to work with the only woman he’d offered his heart too; she was the direct opposite to what he’d had in mind for his obstetric practice.

He’d envisaged a middle aged, soft-spoken, motherly woman available to take the blood pressure checks and urine testing off his hands. And hopefully provide a sympathetic ear to problems that his clients were often reluctant to discuss with a male doctor.

What he had in front of him was a woman from his past, whom he’d finally not thought of for a reasonable length of time.

Admittedly she looked different to the seventeen-year-old he remembered. Apart from the fact that she now wore her stunning fiery red hair in a short crop, the years had only fulfilled the promise of her youth.

Ellie’s skin was still that pale peach that should have burned in the sun, but didn’t seem to, and if she had lines on her face, they were too fine for him to see. With her pert breasts and those long legs, she was gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

He wasn’t into gorgeous radicals with cutely cropped hair and lots of jewellery – so why did he feel like he was suffering from a sudden attack of asthma?

A sardonic voice inside his head whispered that there was no breathlessness when his fiancée, Anthea, walked into the room.

Luke leaned across the desk and picked up her resume to distract his disloyal thoughts. Midwifery, Advanced Life Support Obstetrics, Neonatal Intensive Care, two years each at three different hospitals: so she still moved around a lot.

Little Ellie had done well with her midwifery, he mused. Her credentials were impressive. Emotionally, he could never judge this woman fairly, but morally, he should consider her. ‘So what brings you back to Bell’s River, Ellie McGuire?’ He didn’t add “five years too late”, but he felt like it and the bitterness tasted like flat beer on his tongue.