White Christmas For The Single Mum

Temptation under the mistletoe

Specialist Juliet Turner flies halfway across the world to England with her young daughter, Bea, to perform lifesaving in utero surgery. But her first white Christmas is complicated by the feelings awakened by ob-gyn Dr. Charlie Warren!

Juliet has protected her heart for years, but she soon finds there’s so much more to this closed-off widower than meets the eye. Perhaps it’s time for them both to let go of the past, surrender to their burning chemistry and make this a Christmas to remember!

Christmas Miracles in Maternity

Hope, magic and precious new beginnings at Teddy’s!

Welcome to Teddy’s Centre for Babies and Birth, where the brightest stars of neonatal and obstetric medicine work tirelessly to save tiny lives and deliver bundles of joy all year round—but there’s never a time quite as magical as Christmas!

Although the temperature might be dropping outside, unexpected surprises are heating up for these dedicated pros! And as Christmas Day draws near, secrets are revealed, hope is ignited and love takes over.

Cuddle up this Christmas with the heartwarming stories of the doctors, nurses, midwives and surgeons at Teddy’s in the Christmas Miracles in Maternity miniseries:

The Nurse’s Christmas Gift by Tina Beckett

The Midwife’s Pregnancy Miracle by Kate Hardy

White Christmas for the Single Mum

by Susanne Hampton

A Royal Baby for Christmas by Scarlet Wilson

All available now!

Dear Reader,

In this Christmas story, my heroine, Dr. Juliet Turner, is transferred from a hot Australian summer to the snow-covered Cotswolds. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be an issue for her, a young, single, world-renowned specialist, but while Juliet has no man to hold her back, she does have a four-year-old daughter, Bea, to consider. Despite her reservations, it appears that Juliet is the only one concerned about her taking Bea on this adventure that will include their first white Christmas alone on the other side of the world.

But will it be a Christmas alone? Pretty quickly Bea thinks that her mother’s nemesis, handsome ob-gyn Dr. Charlie Warren, might just be a suitable daddy. Although widower Charlie finds moments of joy with the little girl and her mother, he is still burdened with overwhelming guilt over his wife’s death. Can Charlie step from behind the cloud that darkens his life? And can Juliet learn to trust again after being left after only one night with Bea’s biological father? Love has healing properties like nothing else, and that is just what Charlie and Juliet need to leave their pain behind. Will a white Christmas bring this single mom the happiness she deserves?

I hope you enjoy Juliet and Charlie’s journey to happily-ever-after, and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas filled with love!

Warmest regards,

Susanne

White Christmas for the Single Mum

Susanne Hampton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thank you to the wonderfully talented and incredibly witty Harlequin authors who shared this writing journey with me...Scarlet Wilson, Kate Hardy and Tina Beckett. You have made writing this book like a road trip with new friends. You all helped to make it a joyful experience and one I will never forget.

And to my amazing editor, Nicola...thank you again for your guidance and unending patience as we brought this book to life.

Praise for Susanne Hampton

“A stunning read about new beginnings that is guaranteed to melt any reader’s heart.”

—Goodreads on Falling for Dr. December

“Probably one of my top ten favorite reads this year. It was heartbreaking...kept me wanting to read to find out what happens next.”

—Goodreads on A Baby to Bind Them

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

Praise

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS FOUR in the morning and snow was gently falling in the darkness like tiny stars floating to the ground when Charlie Warren awoke from a nightmare that was all too familiar. Beads of perspiration trailed over his half-naked body. The nights it happened were less in number than the year before but they still came with a regularity he found strangely comforting. Feeling the pain was better than feeling nothing. Or facing the fear of letting go completely. That was something he could still not bring himself to contemplate.

For the few hours that sleep claimed him during those nights, Charlie would relive the moments of impact. Sounds echoed in his mind, each as haunting as the one before. The buckling metal and splintering glass as his car skidded out of his control and slammed into the old oak tree. It was the crash that had claimed his wife and had come close to claiming Charlie’s sanity. He would wake and in the deafening silence lie motionless in his bed thinking over and over about the conversation they should have shared that fateful night. The one when he told his wife it was too dangerous to venture out. The one when he firmly and resolutely refused to take the risk on the treacherous road. The conversation he would regret for the rest of his life that they’d never had.

Some nights were worse than others and on the very worst the nightmares began the moment his head hit the pillow and ended as he sat bolt upright woken by either the ringing of the telephone or his alarm clock. Both signalling he should head in to the hospital, the only place that gave him purpose.

But this night he’d been woken from his tortured sleep by the sound of a falling branch outside his window. The weight of the snowfall had been too much for the narrow branch and it had snapped, crushing against the leadlight window. It had not broken the glass, merely scratched down the panes as it fell, making a noise not unlike a dying animal’s scream.

Still damp with sweat, Charlie rushed to the window believing an injured deer might have roamed into his property, but he quickly saw the silhouette of the damaged tree lit by the moon. There were no streetlights as Charlie’s home was on a large estate. The seven-bedroom, seventeenth-century, run-down and previously unloved manor home was undergoing much-needed renovations so he was sleeping downstairs on the leather chesterfield in the sitting room while work was being completed on the upstairs part of the house.

The stone slate roof had been in a state of disrepair for too long and the ceilings had been damaged in most of the upstairs rooms. The master bedroom was due to be finished within a few days. The rooms were all empty and waiting to be filled with new furniture although Charlie had no burning desire to see any of it, let alone choose it, so he had left those decisions up to the decorator. He wasn’t rushing to move back into the master bedroom. He had not shared it with anyone for two years and he had no plans of sharing it again. His wife, Alice, had begun the renovations and he was seeing them through to completion in her honour. After that he did not know what he would do with the home.

Or himself, for that matter. Other than work, he had no plans for the future.

As always, once Charlie had been woken he found it hard to fall back into a sound sleep again. He read for a while and then tried once again to sleep. But slumber evaded him so he slipped on his heavy winter dressing gown, tied it loosely around his hips, headed into his kitchen and made himself a coffee. While memories of the accident monopolised his dreams, it was the impending arrival of the Australian in-utero surgeon that dominated his waking thoughts, leaving him both anxious and irritated about her potential interference.

The hospital’s decision, or more precisely Assistant Head of Obstetrics, Oliver Darrington’s decision, to fly the specialist over to consult infuriated him. In Charlie’s opinion there was nothing to be gained and everything to lose. The quadruplets were only weeks away from being big enough to deliver and, as the attending OBGYN, Charlie thought any deviation from the treatment plan should be his decision. In-utero surgery carried risks that he did not consider warranted. And he wouldn’t readily agree with the procedure without proof it was the best way forward.

As he looked out over what many would call a joy of the Cotswolds at Christmas, the majestic sight of dawn breaking over the snow-capped hillside, Charlie barely noticed any of the landscape. With his blood pressure beginning to rise, he sat down at the large oak kitchen table, sipping the coffee that was warming his fingers.

Dr Charlie Warren was unable to appreciate anything because he was preparing himself for a professional battle.

This time his words of caution would be heard. And heard loudly.

* * *

‘What on earth do you mean, there’s no need for me to scrub in?’

Juliet Turner spun around with confusion dressing her brow and a surgical gown covering her petite frame. ‘My patient’s on the operating table, prepped for an open foetal repair of a neural tube defect. I have to scrub in. This can’t be postponed.’

‘It hasn’t been postponed, Dr Turner,’ the theatre nurse told her. ‘The surgery’s going ahead today. It’s just that you’re not the surgeon operating.’

Juliet’s nostrils flared behind the operating mask. ‘That’s even more ridiculous. There has to be a mistake.’

‘No mistake, Dr Turner. Another in-utero specialist has been brought in to take over,’ the nurse replied firmly. ‘He’s already arrived, and in gowning now. Orders came from further up the food chain than me, so don’t go shooting the messenger.’

‘He’s in gowning! I’m sorry, Angie, but this is absolute nonsense,’ Juliet said as she returned her focus to lathering her hands and forearms as a visible protest. She wasn’t backing down and had no intention of relinquishing her role. Kelly Lester would have her surgery and her baby would have the best chance of a normal life. And she was operating as scheduled.

Being a female in a male-dominated profession had taught her to stand up for herself very early on. She had known entering the profession that women were at least twice as likely to drop out of surgical training programmes as men, making her well aware that it would not be an easy path and a shrinking violet would not succeed. During her studies her father, also a surgeon in the same field, often told her that, while half of the medical students in Australia and New Zealand were female, women made up less than ten per cent of fully qualified surgeons. It was a harsh reminder that she would have to be strong, focused and have a voice to survive. And she was going to use her voice whenever needed. Loud and clear.

It appeared that day was going to be one of those occasions.

‘I will not allow another surgeon to just step in now without a damned good reason. I know this is not at the patient’s request. I spoke to her only an hour ago.’

‘No, it wasn’t the patient who has requested the change, Dr Turner, and I understand you’re taken aback but I’m just passing on the message, not making the decision. However, I’m telling you the decision’s final. You really do need to stop scrubbing. Having sterile hands won’t change the outcome.’

Not hiding her irritation, Juliet turned off the flow of water with the foot control. ‘Well, we’ll just see about that.’

‘On the bright side, your replacement will no doubt meet with your approval. You’ve worked together more than a few times.’

Juliet was doubly confused with the smirk on Angie’s face. None of it made any sense but if she was to believe the nurse, and she had no reason to doubt her, she was being replaced without notice or reason. ‘I don’t care who’s been brought in to take over, it’s still madness,’ Juliet replied as she pulled her surgical cap free and the mass of brown curls dropped around her face. At that moment, the replacement doctor entered the scrub room.

‘Really,’ she announced, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘This is becoming more and more ludicrous by the minute. They call you back here two days after you retire. What is this craziness? I’ve a patient about to be anaesthetised and I’m told I’m not operating. Will someone please explain the absurd rationale behind all of this? And who made the call to replace me as Kelly’s surgeon?’

‘The hospital director...but with good reason,’ he replied.

‘I can’t think of one.’

‘You have to prepare for your trip.’

Juliet paused for a moment with a perplexed stare. ‘For goodness’ sake has everyone gone completely mad? My trip’s not until the middle of next week. I’ve got five days to prepare for the lectures and board the plane, but Kelly’s baby needs this operation now if he’s to ever walk.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong...not about Kelly and her baby—you’re right on that one, I just finished reading the notes and the surgery’s urgent—but your trip’s not next week. It’s tomorrow. You’re leaving on an eight o’clock flight in the morning.’

‘Tomorrow? But why?’ Juliet dropped her head into her hands still damp from the antibacterial wash. ‘The lecture is not until next Thursday.’

‘You’re not delivering the lecture in Auckland...you’re off to the UK—’

‘The lecture’s been cancelled?’ she cut in.

‘No, the lecture is going ahead...’

‘But without me?’ she asked as she pulled free her surgical gown and dropped it unceremoniously in the bin alongside her discarded cap.

‘Yes.’

‘And the surgery’s proceeding too, just without me?’ They were framed as questions but Juliet’s tone made it obvious they were statements that she was none too happy about.

‘That’s right.’

‘And I’m off to the UK?’ she continued with the volume of her voice escalating and increasing in speed with each word. ‘Before I go completely loopy, just tell me why my schedule is changing before my eyes without my approval?’

‘The call came through from Cheltenham just now.’

‘Cheltenham? As in the Cotswolds?’

‘One and the same.’

‘And who over there’s making decisions without consulting with me?’

‘The decision was made by four babies.’

Juliet blinked and shook her head. ‘Four? You’re speaking in riddles and you know that frustrates me.’

‘Apparently the Assistant Head of Obstetrics at Teddy’s, which is the maternity wing of the Royal Cheltenham hospital, spoke with our Head of Obstetrics about the quads. Almost twenty-nine weeks’ gestation, suffering twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. Two sets of monozygotic twins. While the girls are fine at this stage, the boys have developed the TTTS. Oliver Darrington believes you’re the best chance that the quads have of all surviving should the parents agree to the in-utero laser surgery. And Professor Le Messurier just approved your secondment.’

‘That’s all very flattering but why am I being called in at the eleventh hour? If there was a risk, I should’ve been consulted upon the initial diagnosis. Surely being quads they would have been having weekly scans and intense monitoring and they’d know at Teddy’s that the earlier the intervention, the better the outcome.’

‘Apparently the quads were being closely monitored throughout the pregnancy, but the TTTS diagnosis has only just been made,’ her replacement continued as he began scrubbing in, and over the sound of the running water he continued his explanation. ‘The girls have separate placentas while the boys have one shared placenta so they were being scrutinised for any signs of transfusion. Up until now there was no indication of anything being amiss. It was picked up when the patient presented in what she thought was premature labour.’

‘Caused by the amniotic fluid imbalance affecting the recipient twin.’

‘Again, apparently but you’ll know more details when you get there.’

‘But the lecture in Auckland?’

‘Handled. I’m not sure who’s your proxy but your focus needs to be on the quadruplets. Darrington’s worried it could deteriorate quickly and there’s an increased risk they could lose at least one of them if you don’t get over to Teddy’s immediately, and of course we know the risks if one dies to the remaining foetuses. The parents have been briefed and want to be fully informed so they can consider all options, in particular the in-utero surgery.’

‘Anything else I need to know?’

‘Just one thing...the attending OBGYN, Dr Charlie Warren, is averse to fetoscopic laser surgery. Believes the risks are too great so no doubt he’ll be challenging you.’

Juliet took a deep breath. ‘Looks like I’ll be catching a plane tomorrow morning to meet Dr Warren’s challenge and convince him otherwise.’

‘I hope he knows what he’s up against.’

‘He soon will.’ With her head tilted just slightly, and the remnants of bewilderment still lingering, she looked at her replacement. ‘Okay, Dad, looks like Kelly and her baby are in your hands now.’

‘Don’t worry, honey. I’ll do you proud.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘DR TURNER, WE’RE about five minutes away from the Royal Cheltenham hospital.’

The voice of the immaculately suited driver made Juliet lift her tired eyes to meet his in the rear-view mirror. They were warm and smiling back at her but with a curiosity that she had been so very accustomed to over the years. She was well aware that she didn’t look her thirty-three years and many apparently found it difficult to believe she was a doctor let alone a surgeon. Her curly brown hair and spattering of freckles along with her petite frame, she realised, didn’t help her quest to be taken seriously. She had no time for make-up except for a natural lip gloss to prevent her lips from cracking, and that too added to her young appearance. It also helped her go under the radar and not gain the attention of the opposite sex and, although it wasn’t her primary motivation, it was a welcome side effect.

But despite the general consensus, she was both a surgeon and a mother and she took both roles incredibly seriously. Her work, she loved with a passion, and her daughter, she loved more than anyone and anything in the world. And more than she had ever dreamed possible.

‘Thank you,’ she responded as she gently turned to stir the little girl fast asleep and leaning against her. Running her fingers down the child’s ruddy cheeks, she softly kissed the top of her head. ‘Wake up, Bea, my precious little sleepyhead.’

The little girl silently protested at being disturbed and nestled in tighter to the warmth of her mother’s woollen overcoat. Her eyelashes flickered but her eyes were far too heavy to open.

‘Well, I hope this part of your marathon travel’s been pleasant,’ the driver commented.

‘Very pleasant, thank you.’

‘So how many hours have you two been travelling to be here this morning?’

‘I think it’s about thirty five hours, but it feels like for ever,’ she replied with a little sigh, thinking back over the logistical nightmare they had survived. ‘We left Perth early yesterday, Australian time, had a layover in Singapore before we headed on to Heathrow, and then the sixty-mile trip to the Cotswolds with you,’ Juliet added as she continued to try and wake her still-drowsy little girl as gently as possible. She wasn’t sure just how coherent she was but didn’t want to appear rude. She had a lot on her mind, including the impending in-utero surgery on the quadruplets within the week. The reason she had been seconded halfway around the world at a minute’s notice.

Keeping all four babies viable was everyone’s focus. And something everyone agreed could not be done with Juliet on the other side of the world. Well, almost everyone agreed. She knew she would have her work cut out convincing the quads’ OBGYN, Dr Charlie Warren. She presumed he would be leaning towards bed rest, high-protein diet and medication for the quads’ mother. It was conservative and Juliet was surprised that he was not encouraging the laser surgery. She’d had no time to research the man but assumed he might be perhaps closer to the driver’s age and had managed previous TTTS cases in that manner. But once he heard her argument for the surgery, surely the traditional English physician would see that her method had clear benefit? Particularly once she stated her case and the supporting statistics. How could he not? With both hospitals agreeing that Juliet was best placed to undertake the procedure, all she needed was the parents’ approval. She was not about to allow Teddy’s overtly conservative OBGYN to question the validity of her surgical intervention. It was an argument she was more than prepared to have. And to win.

But that wasn’t the issue that had weighed most heavily on her mind on the long flights over to the UK. It was her parenting. How responsible was it to drag her daughter with her? she had wondered incessantly. And with less than twenty-four hours’ notice. The poor little girl barely knew what was happening. The only thing that she could really comprehend was a plane trip to see snow.

Up until that point Juliet and Bea’s lives had been so settled and planned. Some might say overly so, and among those were Juliet’s parents. They had openly encouraged her to take Bea with her and together enjoy the opportunity to travel. In her home town, Juliet’s mother looked after Bea three days a week and the other two days Bea was in childcare only five minutes from Juliet’s workplace at the Perth Women’s and Children’s Medical Centre. When the proposition of travelling to the UK had been forced upon her, Juliet’s parents had quickly had to push her out of her comfort zone and into embracing the opportunity. Her mother had immediately brought the suitcases down from the attic and personally delivered them to Juliet’s home and offered to help her pack. Juliet didn’t doubt it would be better for the quads for her to be there but it was not just her any more. She had her daughter to consider in every decision she made.

‘I just hope I’m doing the right thing in dragging Bea to the other side of the world for such a short time,’ Juliet had muttered in the car on the way to the airport at five-thirty in the morning. Her father had been driving, her mother next to Bea in the back seat.

‘That’s just it, honey, it might not be a short time,’ her father reminded her as he pulled up at traffic lights and turned to his daughter. ‘You don’t know when the quads will arrive and it’s best you stay until they do. There could be post-operative or postnatal complications, so it’s better to remain there up to the birth.’

‘I know you’re right, but this whole trip is so rushed, I’ve had no time to prepare mentally. I know it’s too late, but I can’t hide the fact I’m having second thoughts about everything.’

‘It’s an amazing opportunity to consult at Teddy’s and no one can come close to your level of expertise,’ he said with pride colouring his voice as the lights changed and he took off down the highway. ‘It’s part of a teaching hospital, and along with assisting those four babies, not to mention their mother, you can add value to the students’, interns’ and residents’ learning experience. You’re the best in your field, Juliet. And I should know since I’ve operated alongside you more than once. It’s time you took your skills out to the world, not just in research papers and journals and lecture tours, but in person in an operating theatre.’