I saw you first, Jack. You were supposed to be mine.
He exhaled, broke free, leaned his forehead to hers and whispered, “It’s been a long time coming.”
She sighed, secretly thrilled he’d missed kissing her. “It was definitely worth the wait.”
“I don’t know about the wait, but it was pretty damn spectacular on my end,” he said, grinning.
She made a breathy laugh, still floating from his kiss.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Whispering Oaks, a small, tight-knit community in a rural section of Southern California, and the home of the Grady family. Anne is the oldest sibling, who left home shortly after high school to pursue her RN degree and to start a new life far away from the memories that haunted her. A tragic accident brings her home to care for her parents and opens a Pandora’s box of emotions.
In Courting His Favourite Nurse, Jack Lightfoot has never forgotten his runaway friend, and upon her return, hopes to set the record straight.
Sometimes life throws us more than we can handle, and when Anne and Jack found themselves losing a close friend to illness in high school, neither handled it well. Thirteen years later, they get a second chance to resume their old friendship, but Anne still wants to run away, and this time, Jack is determined not to let her.
I don’t know about you, but I love reunion stories. Won’t you join me in Whispering Oaks to see how this one turns out?
I’m thrilled about my debut Cherish™, and would love to hear what you think. You can contact me at my website, www.lynnemarshall.com, or by mail at PO Box 51, Simi Valley, CA 93062, USA.
Best regards,
Lynne Marshall
About the Author
LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry she had a serious problem with daydreaming, then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! A late bloomer, Lynne came to fiction writing after her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories which always include a romance, sometimes medicine, a dose of mirth, or both, but always stories from her heart. She is a Southern California native, a dog lover, a cat admirer, a power walker, and avid reader.
Courting His
Favourite Nurse
Lynne Marshall
Special thanks to Jo for getting my feet in the door, to Gail for giving me a chance, and to Sarah for helping me make this book all it could be.
Chapter One
“I’m glad you’re here, Annie belle,” Kieran Grady still sounded groggy from yesterday’s surgery. He seemed too big for the hospital bed with his long legs nearly hanging over the end of the frame, the left with a hip-to-foot cast elevated on three pillows.
“I’m glad I’m here, too, Dad.” Anne patted her father’s hand, making sure his IV was in place and infusing well. An RN for eight years, she couldn’t help herself.
“Take care of your mom until I get home,” he said, drifting closer to sleep.
“Of course I will,” she whispered. Good thing she could get the time off from her new job until Lucas got officially discharged from the army.
Anne’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the screen. “That’s the E.R., Dad. Mom must be ready to go home.”
With eyes closed, he nodded.
There was also a text message from Lark: How are Mom and Dad doing? Give them kisses from me. Wish I could be there, but school is crazy! Love you guys. :) No way would anyone expect her sister to leave medical school midsemester when Anne and her brother Lucas could be there for their parents. She texted back: They’re fine. I’ll call you later.
She bent to kiss her dad’s forehead avoiding the scratches and one nasty-looking laceration near his receding hairline. “This one is from me, and this is from Lark.”
He smiled then grimaced. “I swear,” he mumbled. “I never saw that car coming.”
Considering her parents had been on a motorcycle, things could have been a whole lot worse. As an RN she’d seen plenty of motorcycle accident fallouts first-hand, and she didn’t approve of his “hobby” but there was no way her father would give up his Harley. And up until now, Mom was as gung ho about their Sunday rides on the open roads as he was. Anne had a hunch Mom might be singing another tune from now on.
Anne said goodbye to her father and his nurse, making sure the RN had her cell number as well as her family’s home phone, then headed toward the elevator leaving the plaster and disinfectant scent of the orthopedic ward behind.
She’d arrived in California early the next morning from Portland, Oregon, but had still missed their surgeries. She’d found the first available flight out the moment she’d been contacted by the E.R. nurse Sunday night. Adrenaline had burst from the center of her chest and tingled out to her fingers and toes at the news. They could have been killed. Oh, God, she couldn’t bear to think about the pillars in her life falling … and thankfully, their injuries would heal. Not soon enough for Dad, she thought, smiling and shaking her head as the elevator descended down to the first floor.
After arriving in Whispering Oaks in time for her mother’s hospital discharge that morning, she’d taken her home. By midafternoon, when Mom said the pain was excruciating, she’d realized her mother’s full arm cast had pressed on a nerve and she was losing sensitivity in her fingers. Anne had turned right around and brought her back to the E.R. to have it removed and a new cast applied before there was a chance for nerve damage.
The small Whispering Oaks hospital overflowed with patients, and they’d spent the better part of the evening waiting. When the orderly wheeled off her mother to the cast room, she’d gone to visit her father in the ortho ward.
Anne got off the elevator as an ambulance siren blared in the distance. She approached the emergency reception desk noting that every chair in the waiting room was filled. A TV monitor droned on with some reality show that only a few people, besides the desk clerk, paid attention to.
“My mother’s ready for discharge,” she said. “Beverly Grady?”
The distracted receptionist tore away her gaze from the TV long enough to check her list then, without saying a word or offering a smile, she reached under the desk and pressed a buzzer which opened the door to the department.
Anne rushed to her mother’s E.R. cubicle.
“How’s your father?” Beverly blurted out the moment Anne entered. With a twisted waistband on her teal workout pants, and one sleeve of the jacket hanging over her shoulder, her mother looked out of character from her usual jeans and trendy jerseys approach to style. But Mom wouldn’t let Anne bring her to the hospital without makeup and her earrings, the large gold hoops now tangled in her shoulder-length hair, her bright lipstick half chewed off.
“He’s doing well, Ma. The nurses say he’ll be home in a few days.”
“Great news. Why did it have to be my right arm? I’m useless with my left hand. How am I going to take care of him or do my hair or put on makeup?” She shook her head, her layered, bottle brown hair bobbed along. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hook a bra with one hand?”
“That’s why I’m here, remember?” Anne stifled her smile.
Beverly pursed her lips, brows raised, looking impish. “See the extreme some parents will go to just to get their daughter home?”