by Hodge, Sibel
He put his hand next to mine on my stomach, gazing with awe at the little life it contained inside. ‘What do you think, Cecil? Shall we go to Australia and see where life takes us?’ He looked into my eyes, grinning. ‘You decide.’
‘Let’s go and live in the moment.’
He picked me up and swung me around with joy. ‘New beginnings and adventures in Australia, it is, then.’
I threw my head back to the ceiling and whispered, ‘Thank you, Zelda.’
‘Who’s Zelda?’
I grinned. ‘It’s a long story.’
The End
A note from the author:
I’d like to say a big thanks for buying The Baby Trap. Even though it’s fiction, this story is based on a lot of my own experiences with infertility. Hubby and I tried for five years to have a baby and endured two rounds of IVF without success. It took a really long time for me to get to a place where I was OK with knowing I’d never get pregnant. Eventually, I was lucky enough to find a new direction in my life that gave me something else to think about, and that was writing. Now my books are my babies (oh, and my eight rescue cats!)
For anyone going through struggles to achieve their dreams in life (and that goes for anything, not just infertility), I’m wishing you all lots of success and keeping my fingers crossed for you.
And remember…you are the guru!
Other books by Sibel Hodge
Fourteen Days Later
Fourteen Days Later was short listed for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008 and received a Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009. It is a romantic comedy with a unique infusion of British and Turkish Cypriot culture. Written in a similar style to Marian Keyes, it is My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Bridget Jones.
When accident-prone Helen Grey finds a thong stuffed into the pocket of her boyfriend's best work trousers, it's time for her to move on. His excuse that he needed to dust the photocopier and just thought that it was a rag sounds like a lame excuse.
Helen's life is propelled in an unexpected direction after her best friend, Ayshe, sets her a fourteen-day, life-changing challenge. Helen receives a task everyday which she must complete without question. The tasks are designed to build her confidence and boost her self-esteem but all they seem to do is push her closer to Ayshe's brother, Kalem.
How will Kalem and Helen get together when she's too foolish to realize that she loves him? How can he fall for her when he is too busy falling prey to her mishaps and too in love with his own perfect girlfriend? How will Kalem's Turkish Cypriot family react when they find out?
Is it really possible to change your life in fourteen days?
My Perfect Wedding
Helen Grey is finally getting everything she wants. She's about to have the perfect dream wedding and begin an exciting new life abroad on the sunny Mediterranean island of Cyprus. But living the dream isn't all it's cracked up to be.
After a mix-up at the airport, Helen finds herself drawn into the midst of an elaborate plot to steal an ancient statue and assassinate a local businessman. And as if that wasn't bad enough, her wedding dress is AWOL, the statue seems to be cursed, and Helen is wanted by the police.
With the big day rapidly approaching, a roller-coaster of mishaps, misunderstandings, and disasters threatens to turn the newlyweds into nearlyweds.
Can Helen prevent an assassination, save the statue, and have the perfect wedding? Or will the day to remember turn into one she'd rather forget?
The Fashion Police
The Fashion Police was a runner up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Competition 2010 and nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements 2010 by The Romance Reviews. It is a screwball comedy-mystery, combining murder and mayhem with romance and chick-lit. Written in a similar style to Janet Evanovich and Harlan Coben, it is Stephanie Plum meets Myron Bolitar.
Amber Fox has been making too many mistakes lately and something's got to give...
For starters, Amber accidentally shoots Chief Inspector Janice Skipper and gets thrown off the police force. The only one who knows the truth about the incident is Amber, but no one will believe her.
After accepting a job as an insurance investigator from her ex-fiancé, Brad Beckett, it turns out that Brad thinks they've still got unfinished business and the job description includes sexual favours that come with a price.
When fashion designer, Umberto Fandango, goes missing, Amber becomes embroiled in a complicated case. But Amber's arch-enemy, Chief Inspector Skipper, is also investigating his disappearance, and it's a race against time for Amber to solve the mystery before Skipper does and get her old job back. And just when Amber thinks things can't get any worse, she's being stalked by some crazy mobsters.
Who is Umberto Fandango? Is he dead? And can Amber stay one step ahead and stay alive?
Be Careful What You Wish For
For fans of Janet Evanovich, Kate Johnson, and Gemma Halliday...
Armed with cool sarcasm and uncontrollable hair, feisty insurance investigator Amber Fox is back in a new mystery combining murder and mayhem with romance and chicklit…
Three deaths.
A safety deposit box robbery.
The boxing heavyweight champion of the world.
Somehow, they’re all related, and Amber has to solve a four year old crime to find out why.
As she stumbles across a trail of dead bodies and a web of lies spanning both sides of the social divide, it’s starting to get personal. Someone thinks Amber’s poking her nose in where it’s not wanted, sparking off a game of fox and mouse – only this time, Amber’s the mouse.
Amber’s forced to take refuge in the home of her ex-fiancé, Brad Beckett, and now it’s not just the case that’s hotting up. So is the bedroom…
All Levi Carter wanted to be was the boxing heavyweight champion of the world, but at what cost?
All Carl Thomas wanted was to be rich, but would his greed be his downfall?
All Brad Beckett wants is to get Amber back, but there’s a reason for the ex word.
Be careful what you wish for…you might just get it.
Voodoo Deadly
Feisty insurance investigator Amber Fox is back in her deadliest case ever…
When Chantal Langton, the daughter of a famous voodoo high priestess, goes missing, is it a simple case of a rich girl running off for some adventure, or is there something far more sinister going on?
Soon Amber’s slap bang in the middle of voodoo curses, a trail of missing women, and a labyrinth of deceit. And, if that wasn’t enough, to add more distraction to the case, her ex-fiancé-turned boss-turned fiancé again is pressing her to set the wedding date.
Can Amber find Chantal and hunt down a cold-blooded killer before her life comes crashing down around her?
How to Dump Your Boyfriend in the Men’s Room (and other short stories)
Welcome to my world…
I’m an author of chicklit romances and mysteries. In my spare time I’m Wonder Woman! My world is sometimes wacky, quirky, and very accident-prone.
This is a collection of five humorous short stories – what I like to call true fiction. Some are true, some are fiction, and some are a mixture of both. I guess you have to decide which is which!
I often get asked if I’m like any of my characters in my novels, and I have to groan and say, yes. When you read these stories you’ll realize how, and a lot of them have inspired scenes in my novels, although names have been omitted or changed to protect me against lawsuits!
Are you ready to find out “how to dump your boyfriend in the men’s toilets”, why “yoga is bad for your house”, what the “S-Word has to do with your lady garden”, why you need to “follow that goat”, and whether “kismet” does really exist?
Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave
My name is Elena and I used to be a human being. Now I am a sex slave.
If you are reading this diary then I am either dead or I have managed to escape…
Trafficked: The
Diary of a Sex Slave is a gritty, gripping, and tear-jerking novella, inspired by real victims' accounts and research into the sex trafficking underworld. It's been listed as one of the Top 40 Books About Human Rights by Accredited Online Colleges.
BONUS EXERPT from Traci Hohenstein
SPECIAL DELIVERY
Chapter 1
“Get it out! Get it out of me, now!”
I could hear the screaming all the way down the hall. I pushed the door open to Room 422 just in time to hear—
“If you don’t get Dr. Love in here right now to get this thing out of me, I swear I’ll reach down there and pull it out myself!”
“Good evening, everyone,” I said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. The maternity nurse, Julie, looked relieved to see me.
“She’s ten centimeters dilated, been pushing for the last hour and half, and the head is crowning,” Julie updated me.
I stood at the bedside of my patient, Bethany Burke. Bethany is a famous comedienne with her own reality TV show. She’s also my patient, delivering her first child.
The words coming out of her mouth now, however, weren’t so funny.
“Where the hell have you been?” Bethany asked between panting. “I want…this baby…out of me….now!”
I smiled and pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.
“Bethany, you’ll finally get to meet your baby in just a few minutes.”
I glanced over at her husband, Taylor, who was nervously pacing next to her bed. Her assistant, Camille, sat nearby, texting furiously on her Blackberry. They barely acknowledged my presence.
I quickly examined Bethany—she was crowning and ready to deliver. Julie had alerted the nursery and they rolled in a crib and stood by to wait.
Taking my seat at the foot of the bed, I coached her on. “Okay now, Bethany, big push!”
“Ahhhh!” Bethany screamed while bearing down.
The baby’s head popped out. “Okay, Bethany a couple more of those pushes and we’re done.”
This is the part of my job that I love the most. Delivering babies. Bringing precious life into the world. And being a doctor in LA—a doctor to the famous—definitely has its perks. My clients are movie stars, soap opera actresses, pop singers, supermodels, and wives of the Hollywood’s elite. That’s fun, and I have to admit, glamorous. But all the drama that goes along with it—I just tolerate.
Finally, at eight minutes to midnight, Bethany Burke delivered her baby.
“It’s a girl!” I exclaimed, while the baby wailed at the top of her lungs. She definitely has her mother’s mouth, I thought, as I handed the surgical scissors to her husband, Taylor, to cut the cord.
Suddenly, the door swung open and two men walked into the room carrying black leather bags and train cases. Camille popped up out of her chair. “Just in time. Let’s get started, guys. She needs some sprucing up pronto.”
I turned to Julie in confusion.
“Bethany’s film crew is here. They’re filming for her show,” she explained.
As the nurses cleaned up the baby, Bethany’s team of makeup and hair stylists cleaned up the star. I watched in amazement as the makeup guy wiped the sweat off Bethany’s forehead, while the hair guy sprayed something powdery in her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail.
“Ummmhuh.” I cleared my throat to get Bethany’s attention. “You still have to deliver the placenta.”
“What?” Bethany said, as the camera man poked his head into the doorway to see if he could come in.
“You aren’t done,” I said. I explained everything else we had to do, including putting in stitches.
“How long will that take?” Camille asked, fluffing up her own hair.
Julie rolled her eyes at me. This delivery had turned into a three-ring circus.
“About an hour.”
“Okay. Not a prob,” Camille said. “We’ll film the delivery of the placenta thingy and then we can edit to look like the actual delivery.” She looked at Bethany for approval.
Bethany just nodded her head.
The nurse handed the baby to Bethany. She kissed her daughter on the forehead and then handed the baby off to her husband. “Here honey. I don’t want to mess up my makeup.”
We all—makeup crew, hair crew, and medical crew—finished up at the same time. After eighteen hours of labor, Bethany looked better than I do. I have to get the name of her stylist.
Chapter 2
My career started when I joined the family practice in Hollywood, California, a few years ago. My dad, Frank Love, had delivered Hollywood babies for over forty years, until my mom forced him to retire. They now live in Palm Springs and play golf almost every day.
When I was young, my dad took me on house calls. I witnessed my first birth when I was eight. Where most kids would’ve been grossed out, I was mesmerized. By the time I was twelve, I was assisting my dad during home births. I was the only first year med student who had practical training in obstetrics. When I finished my residency, it was only natural that I’d join my dad’s practice – Hollywood Healthcare for Women – catering to the Hollywood elite.
My dad was tinkled pink. My mom, Adonia, not so much. She thinks I work too hard – and I do. She thinks I need to get a husband and settle down and have kids – and I don’t. Yeah, I’m staring thirty-five in the face and my biological clock is ticking so loudly my ears are ringing, but I haven’t found Mr. Right.
Before I got the call to deliver Bethany’s baby, I’d been having a nice dinner with my father, who had driven down from Palm Springs. It was my first night back from a well-deserved vacation to Mexico. I was feeling rested and relaxed. That didn’t last long. Dad sprang unexpected news on me.
“Hope, I’ve decided to hire a doctor to help out at the clinic.”
I almost choked on the prawn I had just shoved in my mouth. Even though my dad is technically retired, he’s still a partner in the business. Our business has grown in leaps and bounds in the past year, and we’d discuss the possibility of hiring another doctor and expanding the business, but I didn’t know my dad wanted to move this fast.
“What are you talking about? What doctor?”
“The one we’ve been talking about hiring for the past couple of months.”
“We were just talking. I didn’t think you were ready now. I told you I could handle the practice and would let you know when I needed help.”
“Hope, honey, it’s time for you to start having a life.”
“Did Mom put you up to this?” I was fuming. “I know our business has grown since you retired, but I can handle it.”
“I know you can honey, but wasn’t it nice to be able to get away for a while? Recharge your batteries. With a new doctor on call to help you, you can do that more often.” My dad took a sip of his wine. “Besides, the time is right to start that fertility clinic we’ve been talking about and this doctor has that experience.”
I realized that this vacation to Mexico, the one that my parents had paid for and insisted that I take, had been a ruse to get me out of the office so they could hire someone new. This was not acceptable to me.
“So, who is this doctor that I didn’t get a chance to interview?”
“I was going to wait until you were back, but he had several job offers and I needed to make a decision. It happened quickly.” My dad took another long sip of his wine. “His name is Bradley Whitford. He graduated from Tulane, went to med school at LSU, and did his residency at UAB. He’s a brilliant doctor.”
“Hmmph.” I pushed my plate away. “I’ll be the judge of that. Some of our patients won’t be too thrilled at having a new doctor around. You know how high maintenance these ladies are.”
“I think you’ll find Dr. Whitford is well-qualified to handle our patients. He’s also very charismatic. A southern gentleman and all that.” My dad ran his hand through his thick, silvery hair. Several women had sneaked glances at him during dinner. He was still very handsome at sixty-something.
“I still ca
n’t believe you hired him without consulting me first. This is supposed to be a partnership. I still have a say in what goes on with the clinic.”
My father reached over and patted my hand. “Of course you do Hope. But every time I tried to discuss hiring a new doctor, you just pushed the idea aside. If you would just give Dr. Whitford a chance? I would love for us to move forward with the fertility clinic and with his extensive training in fertility treatments, I think we can offer a valuable service to our existing clients.”
I let out a deep sigh. “When does he start?”
“He’ll meet you at the office tomorrow at four o’clock. Then he’s going back to Alabama to get ready for the move. He officially starts in two weeks.”
