All She Wants For Christmas. Annie Claydon

       The tree was almost finished.

      ‘What do you say you and Beth put the fairy at the top together?’ Matt lifted the fairy from her resting place on the coffee table and brought her over to Jack.

      Carefully she guided Jack’s hand and fixed the fairy to the top of the tree. ‘There! Now, we’ll all close our eyes and make a wish.’

      Jack squeezed his eyes shut, wishing hard. Beth’s eyes met Matt’s and caught in his liquid gaze. ‘Close your eyes.’ She whispered the words so quietly that she almost mouthed them at him. He had to have a wish. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if he didn’t.

      He closed his eyes just in time. He didn’t see her wipe the tear away as it dribbled from the side of her eye. And before he had a chance to open them again she had hastened back down the ladder and turned away, so that she could no longer see what her heart desired the most and what she knew she could never have.

       Dear Reader

      This is a very special first for me. As I write this letter, I haven’t seen this book in print yet. By the time you read it, I will have experienced the long awaited thrill of actually holding my first book. There will, however, still be one more thing for me to look forward to with grateful appreciation—the gift that you make of your time, in sharing Matt and Beth’s story with me.

      The book started life as an entry to the Mills and Boon Medical^™ FastTrack initiative. When I first read about this ground-breaking new way of encouraging writers to submit their work, it seemed too good to be true. The offer of hearing back on a submission in days. And best of all, the possibility of receiving comments from an editor.

      The shock and surprise when I received an email giving guidelines for improvements and inviting me to submit a full manuscript was profound. Then, after a learning curve that seemed almost vertical at times, self doubt and agonising hope, the unthinkable happened. The Call. The news that a book has been accepted for publication.

      I knew what Beth was going to be like right from the outset—capable, good at her job and a gifted communicator. She’s also determined not to be defined by the fact that she’s deaf. One of the things I like the most about Matt is that he sees her communication skills as special, not just equal to his own, but different and better.

      I hope you enjoy Matt and Beth’s story. I’m always delighted to hear from readers and you can email me via my website, which is at www.annieclaydon.com

      About the Author

      Cursed from an early age with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. After completing her degree in English Literature, she indulged her love of romantic fiction and spent a long, hot summer writing a book of her own. It was duly rejected and life took over, a series of U-turns leading in the unlikely direction of a career in computing and information technology. The lure of the printed page proved too much to bear, though and she now has the perfect outlet for the stories which have always run through her head, writing Medical^™ Romance for Mills and Boon. Living in London, a city where getting lost can be a joy, she has no regrets in having taken her time in working her way back to the place that she started from.

      All She Wants For Christmas

      Annie Claydon

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      The list of people who deserve heartfelt thanks is a long one—but my mum is not so well at the moment so I’m sure no-one will mind if she is first in the queue.

       For my mother who taught me how to read and write and always encouraged me to do both

      CHAPTER ONE

      MATT SUTHERLAND was lost. The feeling had become increasingly familiar to him over the last few years and he did what he always did. Set his emotions aside, decided on a course of action and pressed forward. In this particular instance, the strategy didn’t seem to be working and he was in danger of being late for his breakfast meeting.

      The wide, cream-painted corridors of the hospital still looked as uniform as they had two weeks ago. He increased his pace to catch up with two women up ahead, walking companionably together, both loaded down with bags, coats and NHS standard issue manila folders. They had to be on the staff. Matt caught up with them, brushing the sleeve of the closest with his fingers, and she turned.

      ‘Excuse me.’ He spoke before he had taken a moment to look at her. ‘I’m looking for Cardiology.’ He stopped, suddenly aware of a pair of wide grey eyes looking up at him. Candid eyes, which looked directly and unashamedly at his face, making his lips tingle slightly as if he had only just remembered that they existed.

      ‘You’re on the wrong wing—this is yellow.’ The other woman spoke up, pulling Matt’s attention away. ‘You need blue—the two wings have the same layout and Cardiology’s in this location, only on blue wing. Go right to the end of this corridor, through the swing doors, turn left, then keep going until you get to Reception and follow the signs.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He turned back to the grey eyes of her companion. A distant, almost unrecognisable former self would have stopped and chatted, undaunted by any imagined consequence of charming her name out of her. Even now, a perverse, insistent voice at the back of his head made him try to goad her into speaking. ‘So it’s two parallel universes, then. Blue and yellow.’

      She nodded. Her face was framed with dark curls and her half-smile struck him as intriguing rather than disinterested. A long-forgotten thrill ignited in his gut, and Matt reminded himself sternly that there was somewhere else he needed to be.

      ‘Okay, thanks.’ He’d got a reaction of sorts and found himself grinning in response. He cut his losses and hurried away, the cold gloom of a chilly December morning forgotten for the moment.

      Turning, as if he wanted to check the direction, he saw the women behind him. They had stopped outside one of the entranceways in the corridor, their bags at their feet, and were facing each other, their hands forming words and phrases as they silently laughed together.

      Nice one, Matt. Her gaze, so intent on his lips, had simply been so that she could see what he was saying. Regret tugged at a part of his consciousness that he thought he had left behind for ever and he turned on his heel, making for the reception area that he had walked through five minutes ago.

      As soon as the stranger’s back was turned, Marcie Taylor turned to her companion, a broad grin on her face. The sign she made with her hand was not for Beth’s benefit, but so the man walking away from them could not hear her comment. Nice!

      Beth turned to watch him hurry away, his dark coat open and swirling around his legs, a gash of red at his neck from a bright woollen scarf. She twisted back to face Marcie before