I was born and raised in a suburb of Philadelphia, where I survived twelve years of parochial school.
About twenty-five years ago my husband talked me into moving to Orlando and I eventually found my way (sans husband) to Melbourne, a lovely town on Florida's Space Coast. I have been rescued by five cats who have agreed to keep me company in exchange for food and cuddles.
Now that I do anesthesia part-time, the stories and characters I have been keeping under my scrub cap lo these many years are clamoring to be free. I've decided to humor them in the hopes they will entertain you, dear reader.
I also create the occasional cover for self-published e-books, am an active member at the RWA local chapter (SpacecoasT Authors of Romance), where I am web mistress and have served as treasurer on the board.
In whatever spare time I have left, I make jewelry. One can never have too much bling, in my humble opinion.
A critical injury. A captivating caregiver. A combination guaranteed to test Nick Collins’ number two rule – never trust a beautiful woman. Nick can’t deny Gwen’s beauty, or that she’s brought him safely through surgery, but when she tries to teach him how to administer his own morphine, all bets are off. Narcotics killed his fiancée, so he’ll find another way to deal with the pain. Like fantasizing about the pretty anesthetist with the copper-flecked brown eyes and hair the color of cinnamon.
Nick Collins - male, undoubtedly. Handsome, indisputably. Charming, absolutely. Three excellent reasons for Gwen to keep her distance. But when the mouthwatering hunk becomes her patient, things get a bit more complicated. Fooled twice before, the petite nurse anesthetist has armored her heart against all men and will resist the pull of attraction to Nick Collins with every tool at her disposal.
In three short minutes the war destroyed Devlyn MacMurphy’s career, killed his best friend, and locked his heart behind a wall of guilt. Now he had a promise to keep and falling for his best friend’s fiancée only made matters worse. As her calls to his request line became more frequent, he used the songs of his favorite composers to hint at what he could not say.
Amanda retreated to Blue Point Cove to cope with her fiancé’s death at the cottage where she’d spent her childhood summers. Her favorite music, played by a velvet-voiced deejay, got her through many a cold, sleepless night, and she thought it was merely serendipity when her new business brought them face-to-face.
How was she to know that Dev had been her fiancé’s best friend ‘Mac’—and the cause of his death?
If “Someone to Watch over Me” was her favorite song, Dev wanted to apply for the job. But eventually he would have to tell her the truth, and no song ever written would prevent Amanda banishing him from her life to the solitary hell he so richly deserved.