Christmas in Bluebell Cove
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
About the Author
ABIGAIL GORDON loves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a closeknit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.
Welcome to the second and third of my books where coast and countryside combine to bring you the beautiful Devon village of Bluebell Cove. A place where doctors and nurses in the medical practice look after the health of the local folk and share their joys and sorrows, and in return have the respect and support of their patients when it is their turn to need a friend.
I live in a village in the Cheshire countryside myself, and it never ceases to amaze me how close is the bond between those who live here. When one of them hurts they all hurt. When one of them rejoices they all rejoice.
In CHRISTMAS IN BLUEBELL COVE, GP Ethan and his lovely French wife Francine discover that a Bluebell Cove Christmas, surrounded by the love of this warm community, is all that’s really needed to help them understand how to love each other and mend their marriage so that they can enjoy their lovely little family.
In THE VILLAGE NURSE’S HAPPY-EVER-AFTER nurse Phoebe Howard comes to the sanctuary of Bluebell Cove to find a home for herself and her baby boy. Romance is not on her agenda until she meets her gorgeous new boss.
If you have enjoyed reading about the folks there, do look out for Book Four. It will be coming along shortly.
So do let’s keep in touch, dear reader, as I write and you read about golden beaches, clotted cream teas, and romance in Devon—glorious Devon!
IT HAD been a mistake coming back to Bluebell Cove for Christmas, Francine Lomax thought as she stood on the snow-covered path of the house that she hadn’t set foot in for months.
When she unlocked the door there was silence inside, no one to greet her, which wasn’t surprising as they hadn’t known she was coming. She bent and picked up a trainer left lying in the middle of the hall, putting it into a nearby cupboard. Then she gathered together the last delivery of mail before Christmas which was lying behind the door, and placed it on the hall table in a neat pile. There was a letter from Ethan’s solicitor amongst it and her insides trembled at its implications.
A doll belonging to Kirstie was sitting upright on the bottom step of the stairs and the choking feeling that she kept getting was back. It was all so familiar, yet she felt like a stranger in her own home.
Her baggage was still outside in the hire car that she’d picked up at the airport, and as she went to bring it in Francine was aware that there was music and laughter coming from somewhere not too far away, the sound of people enjoying themselves.
There might be silence in the house, but there were those out there who were making the most of the festive season and she was reminded of the vow she’d made to herself not to put the blight on the children’s Christmas by arriving without warning and bringing her melancholy with her.
When she’d carried her suitcases upstairs she put them in the spare room where she would be sleeping and then went down again to await the arrival of her husband and children.
She’d been missing Ben and Kirstie dreadfully and their father too because it had been so much longer since she’d seen him, but she had only herself to blame for that. The last thing Ethan had wanted was for her to go stomping off to live in Paris, in contrast to being just a frequent visitor as had been the case when her parents had been alive, and as Christmas had approached she’d begun to wish she hadn’t agreed to the children coming back to Bluebell Cove so early to spend it with their father.
Yet that was how it was going to have to be because of the rift between Ethan and herself that was getting wider all the time, so wide that the divorce she’d asked for was under way with wheels slowly turning in the background.
Bitterness had soured a marriage that had been happy and fulfilling until she’d lost her parents tragically in a coach crash while they had been holidaying in the Balkans. As a result she had inherited her childhood home in France, and ever since had been desperate to live there.
The marriage might have stood