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Book Launch – Crisis of Serenity – Denise Moncrief

 

Available from 5 Prince

Publishing

Genre: Fiction, Romance, Suspense

Release Date: July 17, 2014

Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-047-3   ISBN

10: 1-631120-47-6

Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-048-0      ISBN 10: 1-631120-

48-4

 

Crisis of Serenity

Tess Copeland lives a quiet life in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Thanks to the government’s witness protection program, she enjoys the freedom

of never having to glance over her shoulder to see if someone is following her.

Life has become safe, serene…and boring. Her heart longs for something more

than just existing…until a ghost from her past shatters her serenity.

Once upon a time, Tess was caught between the FBI and the

men the feds were trying to take down. Jake Coleman is the U.S. Marshal who extracted

her from the jam she was in with the FBI, a man she could have fallen

for…hard…if she had let herself. It’s been a year since she last saw Jake,

and in all the months that have passed, he’s never tried to find her. The

longer he keeps his distance, the more she wonders why his absence hurts so

much.

When a stranger comes to town searching for her, all of

Tess’ old fears are resurrected. Asking Jake for help with her current crisis

might lure him into a dangerous trap involving murder, kidnapping, and revenge.

When Jake and Tess come face-to-face with the past, they will have to use all

their wits to survive.

 

About the Author:


Denise is a Southern girl. She has lived in

Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband

and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but also

encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and

scrapbooking.

Accounting is a skill she learned to earn a

little money to support her writing habit. She wrote he first story when she

was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious

rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She’s been writing off and on

ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed,

she has no desire to slow down.

Public contact information

http://www.twitter.com/

dmoncrief0131

http://www.denisemoncrief.com

Excerpt of Crisis of Serenity

CRISIS OF

SERENITY

serenity-n.-the

state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled

Chapter One

It was seven a.m. and Sadie’s Pancake Kitchen had just hit its peak occupancy. Morning

rush was prime time, but the pace never slowed from the time the restaurant

opened to the time the last customer waddled out the door at night. Sadie’s

served breakfast all day, every day.

 

As soon as I walked in the door around six, Wendy, the hostess, didn’t waste any

time assigning me a section on the top floor. She did it on purpose because I

had once complained about the trip up and down the stairs. When I worked the

top, I had to climb those stinking stairs fifteen jillion times a shift. The

owner, whose name was Helen, not Sadie, kept telling us she was going to

install an upstairs kitchen or a food service elevator. Yeah, right. Wendy told

me to suck it up and do my job, as if she were my boss. I called her Princess

behind her back one day and the rest of the wait staff picked up the nickname.

The nasty wench obviously held a grudge.

 

After I cleaned the coffee maker and set a fresh pot to brew, I wrapped my apron

around my waist and stuck a pencil behind my ear. Once I entered the dining

room, routine set in. What do you want to drink? What will you have today? Can

I refresh your coffee? Is there anything else I can get you? Slap the check on

the table.

 

I’d never been a waitress before, but I found I wasn’t half bad at waiting tables. Sadie’s

wasn’t the best job I’d ever had, at least not since the feds decided my life

would be so much better if I was placed in their questionable witness protection program, but the steady

paycheck served my purpose. The waitressing gig kept my wallet fed. No extras.

Just subsistence. That’s all I asked. All I needed. Anything more might bring

unwanted attention to my existence. After all, the FBI wanted certain

individuals to think I had disappeared from the face of the planet so the bad

guys would stop searching for me. Because I had dared to testify against Bennie

the Goon in federal court, something that didn’t ensure a

long life, I had to cooperate with the feds. I liked living and I liked living

on the outside. I don’t do well in prison.

 

Life in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, had settled into a comfortable pattern. Get up at

five. Take my niece to daycare. Bum a ride to work. Roll silverware. Brew

coffee. Clean teapots. Wait tables until my shift was over at three. Catch the

trolley. Pick up my niece from daycare. Go home. Feed the kid. Stuff a few

bites of food into my mouth. Soak my feet. Put Joyce to bed. Watch TV. Pass

out. Rinse and repeat.

 

Some of the patrons at Sadie’s were tourists, but quite a few locals breakfasted

there several times a week, some every morning. After a few months, faces, and

then names had blended into my daily grind. The monotony of the ordinary

promised me safety and few surprises. For the first time in years, I wasn’t

looking over my shoulder every second and wondering who was stalking me. The

sameness of my days appealed to me, better than the life I’d led after I

escaped from the Illinois corrections system and the Fugitive Task Force began

looking for me. There was never a dull moment as a fugitive. By the time I came

out of hiding, the FBI had taken an interest in my case and coerced me into

rolling on Bennie. That’s when the feds immersed me in the witness protection

system.

 

sighed, set Jim Owens’ cup in front of him, and poured coffee from the fresh

pot I’d just made. He smiled at me, revealing a perfectly straight set of

ultra-white teeth. He had one of those symmetrical faces that cameras love. Why

was the guy a cop instead of a movie star? For the first time since I met him, I

smiled back. Just because I felt like it.

 

After a year of living—no, more like hiding out—in Gatlinburg, my stomach had stopped

churning every time a member of law enforcement spoke to me. Sadie’s was a

popular cop hangout early in the morning. If I had known, I would have taken

the job at the souvenir store down the street, despite the fact the owner of

that fine establishment couldn’t keep his eyes off my assets. Where his eyes

roamed, his hands were likely to soon follow. I didn’t need that grief.

 

The ticket booth position my handler had obtained for me at Zombiemania when I

first arrived in Gatlinburg went away when the attraction went out of business.

After that, I found employment on my own. I figured I could do a better job

hunt than the federal agent that couldn’t care less if I survived or not.

 

So I was settled in Tennessee, at least for a while. I gulped down my distrust

every single day and served Gatlinburg’s finest their breakfast, even though I

had certainly had my fill of cops. This particular patrol officer seemed nice, but I

swore I’d never trust

a cop again. Ever.

 

“Thanks.” Jim flashed his gorgeous smile. “How are you today, Tess?” His eyes gleamed

with expectation.

 

“Good. You want the usual?” I asked him the same question every Friday at seven a.m.

He always sat at his favorite table. The one that offered the best view of

Parkway. Jim was predictable. I liked that in a man. My ex-boyfriend Trevor was

anything but.

 

“Hmmm. Let’s see… Yeah.” His order never varied. Four buttermilk pancakes. Four crispy

pieces of bacon. Two eggs—over easy.

 

shiver of dread snaked along my backbone. My head snapped up and I peered

through the window. A thin ribbon of sidewalk separated the two-story-high plate

glass from the roadway. The clink of silverware and restaurant grade china clattered

against the background noise of cars stopping and starting. I wiped my bangs

from my eyes and studied the flow of traffic on the street below. Two lines crept

bumper-to-bumper in view of the restaurant, a small percentage of cars making it

through the green light in one cycle. Stoplight #6 was always busy. A patrol unit

had stopped at the signal. The officer turned his head my way. Our eyes met and

held, and then my heart skipped a few beats. What was he doing here in

Gatlinburg? I thought I had left him behind in

Colorado.

 

Nothing on earth could have dragged me away from his stare. Life as I knew it had changed,

and my monotonous existence didn’t feel so safe anymore. The uncontrollable

urge to escape overtook me…again. I had always been good at running.

“I was thinking…” Jim’s voice drifted in and out of my consciousness.

 

“Huh?” “Tess, are you all right? You went pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m okay.” I turned my attention back to him. “I’ll put your order in.”

left before he could hint that he wanted to take me out. He was predictable

about that as well. Today wasn’t a good day. There might never be a good

time—not with a ghost from my past invading my newly acquired contentment.

Cover Reveal – A Painted Room- Pete Abela

 

Genre: Fiction, Family Life
Release Date: August 7, 2014
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-63112-055-8 ISBN 10: 1631120557

 

Print ISBN 13:978-1-63112-056-5 ISBN 10: 1631120565
A
Painted Room
The best day in a
parent’s life turns into the worst.
For expectant parents, the origins of a
new life are usually accompanied by excitement, anticipation and just a touch
of anxiety about the future. There are classes to attend, prams to buy, and of
course, the baby’s room has to be painted.
This description fits Gary and Melinda quite nicely – except
Gary hasn’t painted the baby’s room yet. He finally gets around to starting the
job, but Melinda’s water breaks before he finishes the first coat.
From there, the situation rapidly deteriorates. Their baby,
Justin, is born via caesarean. Shortly after the birth Justin experiences
breathing difficulties and is transferred to intensive care a few hours later.
The story follows Gary over a tumultuous few days as Justin
undergoes emergency treatment. Gary and Melinda quickly discover that when a
baby’s life is on the line, it doesn’t really matter whether or not you have a
painted room.

 

Chapter 2

Lucy yawned as she finished scrubbing in. The caffeine didn’t seem to be having the desired affect and she could feel her eyes closing. Just another couple of hours and then she would insist on sleeping. A colleague had offered to do Mrs Beaumont’s surgery as she’d just come on duty but Lucy declined. She felt a duty of care to her long-standing patient.

The theatre staff were all in position as Lucy walked in. One of the technicians pressed the ‘Play’ button on the CD and the theatre sister handed her a scalpel. Lucy hummed along as she made her first incision. Adrenalin surged through her body as she caught sight of the diseased bowel she was about to remove. The human body never ceased to amaze her and she felt like the luckiest girl in the world as she got to mend the broken parts. Half an hour into the surgery a senior nurse said, ‘Dr Soames, the patient’s BP is dropping slightly.’

‘Don’t worry, just keep an eye on it. Not much longer to go now.’ Lucy carried on.

‘It’s still dropping and so is the pulse,’ the nurse said sounding slightly anxious.

‘Dr Soames, there seems to be an awful lot of blood coming from the top of that incision.’ The nurse lifted out a blood drenched piece of gauze.

Lucy took her eye away from what she was doing and the scalpel made a small nick in the bowel wall.

‘Shit! More gauze please,’ Lucy said urgently. Mrs Beaumont’s insides were no longer visible through the blood that was gushing from two separate sites in the bowel.

It was exactly ten minutes later when Lucy called time of death. The theatre was eerily quiet, the staff speaking in whispers. All eyes were on Lucy. She was their most popular surgeon and all agreed that coming to work was a pleasure when she was on duty. Usually she was so meticulous in her work. So what had gone wrong today?

Lucy did something she’d never done in all her years as a doctor – she cried over a patient.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ a senior technician said, gently touching Lucy’s arm.

‘Oh, but it was. I ignored a small bleed so I could get it finished as soon as possible. I’m just so tired … but that’s still no excuse.’ She took off her surgeons cap and threw it to the ground. ‘What on earth am I going to tell her family? It was supposed to be a routine op.’

‘A bowel re-section is never just a routine op. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lucy. These things happen to the best of us.’

‘But not to me,’ Lucy said sobbing.

‘It was probably her time to go.’

‘Don’t start that again! It wasn’t her time. I hadn’t finished. It should be me telling her when it’s time to go.’

‘I don’t mean any disrespect … but you’re not God.’

‘No. I’m not. I’m better than God … I usually save people’s lives, not destroy them.’

Her senior technician and friend, Jasmin knew she was wasting her time arguing with her friend in this mood, so she didn’t answer.

‘You clear up here. I’ll go and contact the family. Please take good care of her … she was a lovely lady.’

‘We always do,’ Jasmin patted Lucy on the back as she walked towards the double doors and out of the theatre.

It was another an hour before Lucy felt she was ready to break the devastating news to Mrs Beaumont’s relatives. She sat in her office with her head in her hands trying to re-live every second of the operation to see where she’d gone wrong. ‘If only’ were the words that resonated through her mind over and over again.

Lucy looked up as she heard the door open.

‘Drake? What are you doing here? I thought you were on leave.’

‘I am – but Jasmin rang me and told me what happened. She was worried about you and I thought you might need some moral support.’

‘Oh, Drake.’ She ran up to him and threw her arms round his neck. ‘I killed her. I should never have operated … I was just too tired.’

Drake stroked her hair lovingly. ‘It’s not your fault. These things happen.’

‘You sound just like Jasmin.’

‘But it’s true. The lady wasn’t well – she was weak.’

‘Rubbish! She’d plenty of years left in her. I made a mistake and I’ll have to pay for it. I’ll probably lose my job.’

‘Stop talking like this, Lucy. It’s not like you.’

‘I haven’t told her family yet.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, thanks. It’s my mess … I’ll clear it up. Drake, thanks for coming in. It means a lot.’

‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’

‘I’m not sure of anything anymore.’

‘I can stay if you like and go to my parents tomorrow.’

‘Don’t be silly … I don’t want to spoil your plans. I’m a big girl – I’ll cope.’

Drake kissed her cheek as she prepared herself. Giving someone tragic news never got any easier but as Lucy walked down to the room especially for bereaved relatives she had all on to stop her hands from shaking.

 

The death of Mrs Edna Beaumont soon became a hospital matter and the next day Lucy was summoned before the Chief of Surgery, Mr Darcy. Apparently one of Edna’s children, her son Charles, had decided he wasn’t happy with Lucy’s explanation of his mother’s sudden death and contacted the Health Authority to make a complaint. Lucy sat outside Mr Darcy’s office well before the appointed time biting her nails. At two o’clock his secretary showed Lucy into his office.

‘Come in, Lucy. I’m so sorry about all this. I’m sure it’s just routine and once you’ve given me your side of the story we can put it to bed.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Lucy perched on the edge of the chair.

‘So … what happened?’

‘Er … I don’t really know. Jasmine mentioned there was some bleeding from the top of the bowel which I tried to locate but my scalpel slipped and made a nick further down the bowel. I just couldn’t stop the blood loss. It was a silly mistake and one I’ve never made before.’

‘So, you’re admitting it was human error?’

‘I suppose I am. It was my error and I am human.’

‘Had you been on duty long?’

Lucy held her head down. ‘For eighteen hours.’

‘Eighteen hours and you still wanted to perform a surgery? I understand Harriet offered to do the surgery for you.’

‘She did – but Mrs Beaumont has been my patient for over five years I owed it to her to do it myself.’

‘You also owed it to her to keep her alive.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what else to say.’

‘Jasmin told me you didn’t take her warning about the blood loss seriously.’

‘So you’ve already talked to all the other staff, have you?’

‘Not all but I need to hear everyone’s side of the story.’

‘Before mine?’ Lucy was trying her best not to be annoyed.

‘Look Lucy – this is a very serious accusation. You’re being accused of negligence and there’s no place for sparing anyone’s feelings … no matter how valuable a member of staff you are.’

‘So what happens now?’

‘I think you should take some time off.’

‘Am I being suspended?’

‘Let’s just say I’m giving you a few days off.’

‘I’d rather you tell it like it is.’

‘In that case – yes, you’re being suspended pending further enquiries.’

From that sentence Lucy didn’t hear another word Mr Darcy spoke. She sat on the chair with a glassy expression thinking about the enormity of the charges against her. If she couldn’t practice surgery again she might as well join Edna Beaumont because since she was ten that’s all she’d wanted to do.

Press Release For How to Have an Amicable Divorce – Lindsay Harper

Press Release Launch Kit
For
How to Have an Amicable Divorce
Lindsay Harper

HTHAAD

 

 

Available from 5 Prince Publishing http://www.5princebooks.com books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction/Romance/Contemporary
Release Date: May 15, 2014
Digital ISBN-10: 1631120441 ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-044-2
Print ISBN-10: 163112045X ISBN-13: 978-1-63112-045-9
Purchase link: http://www.5princebooks.com/buy-links.html

 

How to Have an Amicable Divorce
Have you ever got yourself in so deep you feel like running away and starting a new life?

That’s exactly what wife and artist, Denizon Cartwright felt like doing. After deciding that she couldn’t put up with her unfaithful husband any longer, she leaves him for smooth-talking artist and professor, Damien Johnson – but she soon learns she’s swapped one liar for another and beats a hasty retreat … only to become entangled with Jay, the ex-lover of her best friend, Robyn.

Could her life get any more complicated?
Yes! A surprise encounter leaves Denizon with an ever-growing list of men falling in love with her.

Her escape route is at hand in the shape of Escuela de Montana d’Armentera, an artistic retreat high up in the Spanish mountains. But her problems only follow, as she discovers.

Will she find true happiness in the Spanish sun or lose everyone she ever held dear?

And is the cost of finding herself too high a price to pay?

 

About Lindsay Harper

Lindsay lives in Yorkshire, England with wonderful husband, Paul. She has two grown up children, three young grandchildren, and four springer spaniels! She gave up working full time in 2010 to write and has self-published three metaphysical romances to sell at Mind, Body and Spirit fairs. After having fantastic reviews she decided to embark on her passion – contemporary women’s fiction and now wants to reach a wider audience – hence 5 Prince. When she’s not writing, she’s a homeopath, a dog walker and a DIY enthusiast. For fun she loves Ashtanga yoga, Ascension meditation and the sea – and one day would love to live by it.

How to contact Lindsay Harper
lindsayharper.co.uk
lindsayharperauthor (facebook),
@lindsayharper (Twitter)

Excerpt of How to Have an Amicable Divorce
May
Denizon smiled as she saw whose name was flashing up on caller display.
‘Hello love, how’s it going? Are you still having a wonderful time?’
‘Yes brilliant, thanks,’ answered Robyn, her best friend and sister-in-law, speaking from the other side of the world in New Zealand.
‘You’ll be home soon, won’t you? I can’t believe you’ve been there eight weeks already.’
‘Neither can I,’ Robyn paused. ‘In fact, that’s the main reason I’m ringing. I’ve decided to stay.’
‘What? Forever?’ Denizon panicked.
‘No, not forever, silly. Just for four more weeks. Gerald has been invited to spend time at his niece’s new villa on the Cap D’Azur, so I thought I’d take advantage of the extra time off and spend it with my wonderful husband.’
‘I take it it’s still going well?’
‘I can’t believe how well. It’s like being in a new relationship, but better. We’ve fallen in love all over again.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Rob.’
‘The training is also going better than anticipated and, hopefully, Dave will be finished in about six weeks, so he’ll be coming back to England then. He’ll have to be located in London for another few months, but at least we can spend weekends together … How’s my darling brother?’
Denizon sighed. ‘Chris is fine. He’s been promoted to Crew Manager.’
‘That’s great, isn’t it?’ Robyn asked on listening to her friends sigh.
‘Yes,’ Denizon said tentatively. ‘But he’s been away on two residential courses so far, and he’s got another one coming up.’
‘Let me guess, you’re bored.’
‘I suppose a bit, my best friend is at the other side of the world and my husband is never here.’
‘You’ve got Barney.’
‘I know, but he’s not great with the conversation.’
‘Cheer up, love. You sound like I did a few weeks ago … are you doing much with your art at the moment?’
‘Funny you should mention that. I received a phone call yesterday from the University. The Art Department is looking for tutors to teach a summer school and wondered if I’d be interested.’
‘Well then, that’s something to do,’ Robyn said enthusiastically. ‘Are you going to apply?’
‘I think so, but I’ve never taught before. There’s a training course in a couple of weeks that I could go on to teach me to teach. It would mean I couldn’t have Barney for a couple of weeks.’
‘Well, I’m sure Sarah could cope for two weeks. She leaves him with you enough. It’s only fair you have some time to do what you want, and I think it’d be good for you.’
‘You’re probably right. I’ll ring them back and tell them I’ll do the training course. If I enjoy it, who knows it might lead to something else.’
‘I think that’s great news. You’d be a good teacher.’
‘Thanks, love… hadn’t you better be going? This’ll be costing you a fortune.’
‘I suppose so. I’ll message you next week to arrange a time when we can all get together to Skype.’
‘Oh! Before I forget, Jay and Max were on Breakfast Time this morning talking about Jay’s book,’ Denizon added.
‘I thought he was in America.’
‘He was, but he’s back to do a short book tour round London.’
‘Was he good? I assume Max was.’
‘He was actually, a natural in front of the camera.’
‘It figures! What were they talking about?’
‘About affairs in general and why people have them. Max was defending monogamy and Jay was giving his contrary opinion, sharing his views on being with a partner as long as they make you happy. It was interesting, especially seeing as I know him personally.’
‘Did he mention his partner?’ Robyn asked with an edge to her voice.
‘Only that’s he’s with someone who he’s compatible with.’
‘For now,’ Robyn said scathingly.
‘You sound bitter! You’re not are you?’
‘No, not really. I made my choice as well, and I’m so happy I chose Dave. It’s just that I know his book was written when we were together, and I helped him with a lot of it. I just don’t get any credit.’
‘Don’t start all that again,’ Denizon reprimanded. ‘You’ve got a perfect life now, don’t even think about Jay.’
‘Ay, Ay captain. On that note I’m going now, and we’ll speak next week. Love you, Den.’

‘Love you too, Rob. Take care.’ She placed the phone back in its cradle and smiled. Her friend would never change.
If she was honest, the thought of teaching scared her. Being an artist was a very solitary profession and her own paintings were personal to her. She wouldn’t know how to bring out the best in her students or even if they’d appreciate what she had to say. But Robyn was right – it would be good for her – because not only was she bored, she was lonely.

Without Robyn on the other end of the phone or just round the corner she had nobody. Both her parents had been dead for years, and she was their only offspring. Robyn was the closest thing to a sister she’d ever known, and she totally relied on her for everything. She’d never been one for making friends easily and had gotten so used to her own company all day that sometimes she found it difficult to start conversations. She knew this frustrated her husband, Chris, who was the most gregarious person she had ever met.

She often thought it was why Chris had been tempted to seek out the company of other women throughout their married life and probably why she’d made allowances for that particular trait. Chris loved going out and socialising, whereas she preferred a good book or a black and white film. Robyn had loaned her Dr Max Hammond’s book, “Effective Communication”, and it made her realise that the two of them didn’t have a lot to talk about. She had become infatuated with him at age sixteen and hadn’t really looked at another man until she finally snared him six years ago.

Chris loved her, of that there was no doubt, but she just wasn’t stimulating enough for him, and he wasn’t intellectual enough for her. He was ruled by his body, and she was ruled by her brain. Since her dice with death last year their relationship had been the best it’d ever been. It was the first time since they’d got together she could honestly say she trusted him. But it had been to the detriment of his personality. He no longer went out as much, offering to spend every evening with her. She could see the life slowly seeping out of him as he tried his best to be something he wasn’t.
The recent promotion at work seemed to perk him up slightly and, even though she missed his company, she knew it was best for his sanity. Maybe tutoring would be the incentive I need to make new friends – and going out to work at a real job could, potentially, make me more interesting. It was with that thought she picked up the phone to ring the University and booked herself on the short teacher training course.

The Road to Salvation

Over the next few months I’m going to share with you one of my new books – The Road to Salvation. I am going to post a chapter a week like Charles Dickens did in times gone by. I hope you enjoy the journey and look forward to reading each chapter as it appears. The Road to Salvation is the story of four lost souls who through awful tragedy find a deeper meaning of life. Whether you follow an organised religion, a Spiritual path or your own moral code, I hope you will see and appreciate the journey my characters take to a fuller and more satisfying existence. Your comments as we go would be greatly appreciated.

I’m going to start with LUCY.

The Road to Salvation

Chapter 1

As Dr Lucy Soames poured boiling hot water into her large mug she knew four cups of strong black coffee in under an hour would be no good for her health, but it was the only way she could ensure remaining awake for the remainder of her eighteen hour shift. She was under the misapprehension that once she secured the promotion to senior registrar in General Surgery her hours would reduce. Sadly, with the shortage of doctors in her field, they had increased and rarely did she do anything less than a twelve hour shift.

‘Not another coffee, Lucy! Don’t you get palpitations drinking so much?’ asked Drake a fellow surgeon, also taking a well earned break in the staff lounge.

‘Yes, but it’s the only thing that works. I don’t like the cold caffeine drinks, they’re too sickly,’ Lucy replied, sipping the treacly mixture.

‘What time are you off?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got a couple more wards to visit now and then I can sleep in the on-call room for a few hours.’

‘What, you’re on again in the morning?’

‘Yes, I’ve got a bowel resection before breakfast! Just what I need to set me up for my Weetabix,’ she said, smiling. ‘How about you?’

‘I finish tonight for a week. I’m going home to see my parents.’

‘Good for you! I haven’t got any time booked off until we appoint a new consultant.’

‘Poor you. There’s no rest for the wicked! Isn’t that how the saying goes?’ Drake teased.

‘In that case I must be very bad.’ Lucy looked at her watch and drained the remains of her coffee. ‘I‘d better be off on my rounds. If I don’t see you before you go, have a lovely time.’

‘I will thanks. Don’t work too hard,’ he added. Lucy walked away giving him the finger. All she had to do was turn round and she would have seen the look of longing smeared all over Drake’s face but Lucy never looked back – she had far too much work to do.

Her first port of call was the Women’s Surgical ward. In the first room on the right was one of her favourite patients – Mrs Edna Beaumont, a sixty five year old lady with Crohn’s disease. She’d been attending St.Luke’s for over five years for various operations and it was her bowel resection Lucy was performing the following morning.

‘Hello, Mrs Beaumont,’ Lucy said cheerily.

‘Evening doctor. I do wish you’d call me Edna. You’ve known me for so long, you seem like part of my family.’

‘You also know, I’m not supposed to.’ Lucy chided. ‘But okay, seeing as it’s you. Are you ready for tomorrow, Edna?’

‘As I’ll ever be, but this helps,’ Mrs Beaumont said, pointing to the well-worn copy of the Holy Bible in her hands.

‘As long as you find comfort somewhere that’s all that matters.’ Lucy picked up her notes and examined them.

‘Do I take it from that comment, you don’t read the bible?’

‘No, I don’t. I haven’t read it since I was made to go to Sunday school as a child but I even stopped that when I was eleven when my parents gave me a choice.’

‘Don’t you have a faith?’

‘Only in myself. I’m a scientist and tend to believe in things I can see and sadly no-one has seen God and come back to tell us what he’s like.’

‘I hadn’t put you down as a sceptic.’ Mrs Beaumont tutted. ‘There are so many things we can’t see that exist. Surely you believe in love and you can’t see that.’

‘True, but I see so much doing my job that if there was a God, why would he let all the bad things happen?’

‘Ah! You’re one of those that believes all evil in the world is God’s fault. Where does personal responsibility come into your world?’

Lucy looked up from her notes. ‘I’m sorry Mrs Beaumont, as much as I’d love to stand here and discuss comparative religion with you, I really must get on.’

‘I’m sorry, doctor, for holding you up but I’m sure believing in God would help you in your job, not hinder you.’

‘You’re probably right. My mum and dad still go to Church and whenever I’m at home they try to persuade me to go with them but I’m not convinced.’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing! But I’ll shut up now. That’s enough preaching for one night. What time’s my operation in the morning?’

‘Theatre’s booked for nine. By dinnertime tomorrow you should be sitting up in bed with it all over.’

‘I hope so. I’ve been praying that this is my last operation. I don’t want to go through it all again. So, I’ll either be sitting here like you said or you’ll be visiting me in the morgue!’

‘Edna! Don’t say things like that. I’ve told you before it should be routine. I’ve done so many operations like this before, it’ll be like a walk in the park.’

Mrs Beaumont reached for Lucy’s hand and said, ‘Thank you, doctor. You make all the pain bearable,’ she squeezed it tight.

‘It’s my pleasure. Patients like you are the reason I love my job.’ Lucy carefully removed her hand from the grip. ‘But I really must be going. Even I need a few hours sleep and I’ve got another ward to visit after this one.’

‘Then, I won’t keep you a second longer. Good night doctor and God bless!’

‘Goodnight,’ Lucy closed the door behind her. She smiled. Whenever she visited Edna Beaumont, she was reading her bible. What it must be like to have such faith, Lucy thought as she moved onto the main part of the ward.

The few hours sleep never materialised for Lucy, as a child with a ruptured appendix was admitted at two o’clock in the morning. Lucy was the surgeon on-call so it fell to her to perform the emergency surgery. It was five o’clock before she finished and saw no point in lying down for an hour. Another cup of strong black coffee would have to suffice.

 

 

 

 

Loving my Life

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Loving my life

Loving my life is far more important than selling books (although my publisher might disagree!). Unless I’m really mindful, I find myself obsessing about how sales are going, how many people RT’d me, and whether my likes on Facebook have increased– so much so, that I miss all the wonderful things that are going on in my life.

That is why going on holiday is so important to me. It takes me away from my computer and makes me appreciate real life. I’ve just come back from the Isle of Wight where we’ve been on holiday for a week. I know I’ve been there already this year but I love it so much! Even though we go at least three times a year we still managed to discover three new beaches that we hadn’t found before.

Every time I go on holiday I take my lap-top intending to write some of my current book and each time I open it about once. I can’t Tweet or go on the internet in the holiday cottage as there is no internet (apart from on my phone which I purposely leave at home). At first it feels like the world will end without me knowing what’s trending but then I relax into a life without technology and it’s really refreshing.

We spent the week walking and sunbathing (and I even paddled in the sea!). I read other people’s books instead of my own and completed a whole edition of the Puzzler. Now I’m back and raring to go. My new book ‘How to Have an Amicable Divorce’ is out on Thursday 15th May and this time I’m not stressing about it, because it’s not the only thing that’s important in my life.

Having said that I do hope you buy it. How else am I going to fund my next relaxing week on the Isle of Wight!

Life is Far More Interesting

ImageI’m fairly new to all this internet stuff and blogging and I’ve recently been thinking about what works and what doesn’t. My inbox is constantly bombarded with emails telling someone has posted in one of the many Facebook Groups I’ve joined to enhance my profile and help sell my books. They are telling me about why I should read their new book.

To be honest I delete most of them without even reading them. I can see you’re shocked or even appalled! That led me to realise that (God forbid!) people will do the same to my posts. Sometimes when I post about my book or a cover reveal only a handful of people see them yet when I tell them I’ve just purchased a giraffe onesie complete with ears I’m inundated with likes. My conclusion is that people like to read about my real life rather than my book. Especially, when they don’t know me from Adam.

I had a great conversation on Twitter this morning telling jokes like “What do you call a man with a spade on his head? Doug. What do you call a man without a spade on his head? Douglas.” I never mentioned my book once and had so many retweets and new friends join me.

The same happened on Facebook yesterday. I’ve just learned how to send photos from my phone. I know I’m slow! I sent a picture of my garden, which is looking lovely by the way. I had loads of comments.

I know I have to publicise my book otherwise no-one will read it but I realise I have to publicise myself more. Tell me what you think!

Just to prove a point I’ve included a silly photo of me. No way I’ll ever let you see me in my giraffe onesie!! You wouldn’t sleep at night.