Title: Won’t Feel a Thing
Author: C.F. White
Series: St. Cross #1
Release Date: December 19th 2017
Genre: Contemporary MM Romance
It takes more than a doctor to mend a broken heart.
Ollie Warne is fresh out of nursing school and working his dream job as a pediatric cardiology nurse at St Cross Children’s Hospital, London. He wants to start the new year free of personal heartache after his track record of falling for the wrong man--his New Year’s resolution is to live a life of carefree liaisons from now on.
He immediately meets Jacob, father of one of Ollie’s patients and a man harboring more guilt and past demons than even Ollie, which is saying something...
Their growing attraction makes it hard for Ollie to keep his distance, but he has to. Not only do the ethics of his profession demand it, but Ollie is entangled with another man--a predatory doctor who has a huge personal and professional stake in Ollie’s life.
Ollie risks more than his job by getting involved with a patient’s father--and much more than just the success of his New Year’s resolution, something that was supposed to ensure that, this time, he won’t feel a thing.
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“Yes, Doctor?” Ollie replied in his all-professional tone. He even added a bit of height to the delivery. He needn’t have bothered. Dr. Rawlings was a good six foot three and he a mere five-ten.
Dr. Rawlings did his usual scan, glancing around the reception area. Ollie rolled his eyes while the doctor wasn’t looking. Jacob backed off toward his daughter’s room, and Ollie snapped out of his blatant ogling of the man when the doctor slapped a hand down on the counter and leaned forward.
“I need to see you.”
Ollie supposed the doctor could have been attempting a whisper, but his deep and vibrating voice simply came out a hushed baritone.
“Here I am.” Ollie smiled with his mouth, not his eyes.
“End of shift.” Dr. Rawlings either didn’t notice Ollie’s standoffishness or chose to ignore it. “Not my place. We’ll go to the Radisson.”
He tapped the desk and started to walk off.
“Er, Doctor?” Ollie called, leaning forward on the desk. “No.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, no.”
Ollie folded his arms across his chest, making his pen and timer flick up from his top pocket. He stood his ground, but the deep, penetrating dark eyes firing their lasers across the desk made Ollie sink back. He loosened his arms and couldn’t help the quick glance across the corridor to room one. Jacob had his back to him, standing by the door to his daughter’s room. Ollie was pretty sure that from there, he could hear every damn word. Closing his eyes, Ollie faced Dr. Rawlings and awaited the inevitable reply.
“That isn’t welcome this time, Oliver.”
“I’m busy. This time. Doctor. ”
“Doing what, may I ask?” Dr. Rawlings’ brow furrowed as if he couldn’t believe that Ollie would have another life outside this hospital. And the occasional fraternizing with him. Not that he isn’t far wrong.
Ollie picked up the paper files on his desk and continued to idly flick through, avoiding looking directly into those eyes that had had him rooted to the spot and caving in numerous times before, until he realized that he could do this. It was the new him. The New Year’s resolution. He wouldn’t feel a goddamn thing. “I’m seeing my dad.”
“Fine.” Dr. Rawlings, unperturbed, tucked his hands into his chino pockets.
“That’s fine. We can do that first.”
“We? ” Ollie widened his eyes. “And first?”
“Yes. I’ll drop you there. I can go to the coffee place around the corner. I have some charity work I need to catch up on, and you’ll be, what, an hour?”
Ollie snorted in utter contempt. He shook his head violently, and his eyes shuttered closed, so he was unable to see the doctor’s next reaction.
“No,” Ollie said again with more conviction this time. “No, Elliot.” He gritted his teeth, bold enough to utter the first name here. “I don’t want a time limit as to when I can see my father. I don’t want you to wait around the corner like some shameful pay-for-play. And I don’t want to go the bloody Radisson. It’s sleazy. You’re sleazy.”
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About the Author
Brought up in the relatively small town in Hertfordshire, I managed to do what most other residents of the town try and fail. Leave.
Going off to study at a West London University, I realised there was a whole city out there just waiting to be discovered, so much like Dick Whittington before, I never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold; slowly coming to the realisation that it is mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of stare at them endlessly whilst holding a polystyrene foam cup of watered down coffee.
Eventually I moved from West to East along that vast District Line, and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles, and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job, creating a life, a home, a family.
Having worked in Higher Education for the most proportion of my adult life, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper, having written stories as a child but never having the confidence to show them to the world. Now embarking on this writing malarkey, I cannot stop. So strap in, it’s a bumpy ride from here on in.
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