C.F. White is today's blog guest with an exclusive excerpt! She is celebrating with her December 19th release, Won't Feel A Thing.
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.
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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~EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT~
“Whereabouts is your father?” Jacob asked.
“Oh, not far.” Ollie nodded across the road, as if that helped explain the location of the nursing home in the whole capital city. “Fifteen-minute walk from here. Toward Angel.”
“Want some company on the walk?”
“You going that way?”
“I can.” Jacob smiled. “My flat’s Shoreditch way, but I don’t tend to live there much. It’s not particularly welcoming. I could use the cold air to clear my head.” Jacob suddenly paused. “Of course, don’t think you have to. Totally understand if you’d rather be alone.”
“I’d kill for some company.” Ollie grinned. “With an ax.”
While it should have been a pleasant stroll through the streets of London, it being early morning rush hour meant Ollie often had to hop behind or in front of Jacob to allow commuters to push past. So the conversation didn’t flow freely. There was the odd droplet of information, pointing out of local pubs and recommended restaurants, places Ollie cycled on the days it wasn’t freezing icy sleet on the roads. He talked about how he was making a playlist from all the old vinyls his father had loved in his youth and how he still needed to sort out all his father’s keepsakes being stored at his mother’s place, his mother finding the task all too much to do herself. Ollie wasn’t finding it awkward—rather oddly comfortable. Like he had done this walk a thousand times with the man beside him, whom he had only met a few hours ago.
Clutching his empty cup of latte in his thick-gloved hands, Ollie stopped at the gated entrance to the Acorn Nursing Home. A gleaming silver plaque on the gate announced it was privately run. No NHS here—this was top of the range. Only the wealthy afforded this type of final-destination place for their loved ones. Ollie wasn’t wealthy. But the down payment from the doctor had helped secure his father’s place, and the monthly installments he and his mother shared, contributions, along with his father’s decent pension from the Royal Mail, meant they had been able to keep him there. Ollie wasn’t sure for how long. Dementia could go on and on. His father could still be alive for another twenty years, and Ollie didn’t want to work out how much money that would cost him and his mother. Not that he begrudged a penny; it was just a crying shame that it could see his mother destitute before she was able to retire herself.
“This is my stop.” Ollie nodded at the gate.
“Right, yes.” Jacob gave the place a once-over. He brushed his flowing hair away from his face with a gloved hand.
“Want me to take that?” he asked, indicating Ollie’s empty cup. “I’ll shove it in the bin on the way to the station.” He glanced around the road and scrunched his nose like a twitching bunny, obviously realizing there wasn’t a trash can in the vicinity.
Ollie chuckled, handing over his cup. “Turn left at the end of the road. You’ll see the Tube station sign. Not far.”
Jacob nodded with a smile, and his fingers brushed Ollie’s as he slipped the cup from Ollie’s hands. Not that Ollie could feel any electricity of the touch—the thick wool of both their gloves prevented it. As did his New Year’s resolution.
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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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