by Kara Hart
Table of Contents
Prologue: Olivia Westman
Dr. James Mason
Olivia
James
Epilogue: Olivia
Author’s Note:
Untitled
Walker
Erica
Helena
Addison
Prologue: Marshall
Virginia
Marshall
Prologue: Jackson Leeman
Fiona Breckinridge
Jackson
Fiona
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Author’s Note
His Virgin Bride
A Fake Marriage Romance
Kara Hart
Kara Hart
Contents
Prologue: Olivia Westman
1. Dr. James Mason
2. Olivia
3. James
4. Olivia
5. James
6. Olivia
7. James
8. Olivia
9. James
10. Olivia
11. James
12. Olivia
13. Olivia
14. James
15. Olivia
16. James
17. Olivia
18. James
19. Olivia
20. James
21. Olivia
22. James
23. Olivia
24. James
25. Olivia
26. James
27. Olivia
28. James
29. Olivia
30. James
31. Olivia
32. James
33. Olivia
34. James
Epilogue: Olivia
35. Author’s Note:
Untitled
36. Walker
37. Erica
38. Walker
39. Erica
40. Walker
41. Erica
42. Erica
43. Walker
44. Erica
45. Erica
46. Walker
47. Erica
48. Walker
49. Erica
50. Walker
51. Erica
52. Walker
53. Erica
54. Walker
55. Erica
56. Walker
57. Erica
58. Walker
59. Erica
60. Walker
61. Erica
62. Walker
63. Erica
64. Erica
65. Walker
66. Erica
67. Walker
68. Erica
69. Walker
70. Erica
71. Author’s Note:
Untitled
72. Helena
73. Addison
74. Helena
75. Addison
76. Helena
77. Addison
78. Helena
79. Addison
80. Helena
81. Addison
82. Helena
83. Addison
84. Helena
85. Addison
86. Helena
87. Addison
88. Helena
89. Addison
90. Helena
91. Addison
92. Helena
93. Addison
94. Helena
95. Helena
96. Addison
97. Helena
98. Addison
99. Addison
100. Helena
101. Addison
102. Helena
103. Addison
104. Author’s Note:
Untitled
Prologue: Marshall
105. Virginia
106. Marshall
107. Virginia
108. Marshall
109. Virginia
110. Marshall
111. Virginia
112. Marshall
113. Virginia
114. Marshall
115. Virginia
116. Marshall
117. Virginia
118. Marshall
119. Virginia
120. Marshall
121. Virginia
122. Marshall
123. Marshall
124. Virginia
125. Marshall
126. Virginia
127. Marshall
128. Virginia
129. Virginia
130. Marshall
131. Virginia
132. Marshall
133. Virginia
134. Marshall
135. Marshall
136. Virginia
137. Marshall
138. Virginia
139. Marshall
140. Author’s Note:
Untitled
Prologue: Jackson Leeman
141. Fiona Breckinridge
142. Jackson
143. Fiona
144. Jackson
145. Fiona
146. Jackson
147. Fiona
148. Jackson
149. Fiona
150. Jackson
151. Fiona
152. Jackson
153. Fiona
154. Jackson
155. Fiona
156. Jackson
157. Fiona
158. Jackson
159. Fiona
160. Jackson
161. Fiona
162. Jackson
163. Fiona
164. Jackson
165. Fiona
166. Jackson
167. Fiona
168. Jackson
169. Fiona
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Author’s Note
Prologue: Olivia Westman
“This can’t last forever,” I think to myself. “Can it?” I open my eyes and see his chiseled body, towering above mine. His cocky smile shines against the bedroom lighting. He’s perfect, dammit. Perfectly smug. But he’s dying for me. He needs me.
“I’m a lucky man,” he says. His fingers trace down my stomach, pushing past my navel. I breathe in deeply, exhaling hard.
I didn’t think I’d be here right now. My plan was to finish school and leave this place. I thought I’d meet someone in class. You know, someone more my age. I thought I’d fall in love, as that man promised me the world. Now, I’m in here, in his bed. My doctor, for Christ’s sake. How the hell did this happen?
“It will have to be our secret,” I tell him. “No one can know about this.”
His fingers move further down. I shudder when he reaches my wetness, the one spot I was told was a sacred place I would want to keep untarnished, nearly forever. This has never happened to me before. I’ve never been touched like this, never been treated like a real woman.
“You’re nervous,” he says.
I nod my head and gulp down hard. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m not nervous. I’m just excited.” This man is not your husband. He’ll never be yours. Why are you giving him what he wants?
“Just relax,” he whispers. “Let me guide you.”
Does he care that I’m a virgin? Does it turn him on more that I am? As his fingers slowly enter me, I gasp for air. I grab onto the bed sheets. My legs push into the mattress as his tongue covers me. Maybe he knows. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, I’m not telling him that yet.
“Guide me, doctor,” I whisper. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
Dr. James Mason
“I don’t know how much longer she has,” I sigh. I look away and try not to get emotional. I’m the best doctor this city has to offer, yet I’m powerless in these situations. There’s nothing I can do. If a patient has reached this stage in their disease, I have to stand tall and tell th
e family that hopes and prayers are the only things left for them to give. This time, however, it’s different. Much different.
“James,” my father whispers. “I thought…” His head lowers, as he begins to weep. My own father. I didn’t sign up for this. I never wanted to see this happen, though I knew it could happen someday.
“I know,” I say. “I thought there were more options. I thought I could do something. I’ve failed my own family. I’m so—”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Jenna, my sister, says. She’s always been strong. In a lot of ways, she’s stronger than me. Women have to deal with a hell of a lot and I know she’s done her best to keep this family afloat, while I left all those years to go to medical school.
“You did everything that you could,” she says. “And I love you for that.”
“We don’t blame you,” my father says. “We knew the limits. Science just hasn’t progressed fast enough.”
I look at the awards on my wall. They’re all so fucking meaningless. Best Surgeon 2017. Doctor of the year… Who fucking cares? When people are dying, is there time for any of that bullshit? Fuck no. We all go to the ceremonies and clap as loud as we can, so we can feel proud about what we do. But the suffering continues. Diseases continue to kill us off. Now, one has taken my own mother. Not yet, but soon.
“Thank you,” I tell them, shielding my eyes. I can’t fucking cry. I can’t waste the energy on tears. There has to be other options. Of course, there aren’t any. Please, God… help us through this time of pain.
As my family funnels out of the hospital, I walk with them. “You know,” my father starts speaking slow and methodical, “I’ve had the best life with your mother. It’s been long and full of happiness. I don’t regret a thing.”
“I know. You deserve more than this, though, Dad,” I say.
“No. This is life. We deserve whatever we get. Life is pain, but we can get something out of that pain, can’t we?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Well, I do. I’ve lived long enough to know that much. I have one thing left to ask you,” he says. I nod and he continues, “I’d like to see you happier. I’d like to see you work less. I know it’s your passion, but, son, you need a woman. You need someone who you can love and trust, and fall back on. If there’s one thing I ask of you it’s this: find someone you love. Hold onto them and never let go.”
“I’ll try, Dad,” I whisper. But I don’t have time for any of that. I save lives. That’s what I do. People rely on me. How can I rely on somebody else?
“Don’t try. Just do it,” he says. “Because time moves fast. Believe me, if you don’t find her, you’ll regret it.”
“Life is about family,” I nod. It’s something he’s been telling us since we were children. Family is everything. It’s the water in our body, the blood flowing through our veins. It’s what connects us and continues life itself. My sister found love ten years ago. As for me, well, I never found it. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.
“Damn right it is,” he says. “You’re damn right.”
“I’ll meet you at the house later?” I ask him.
“Yes. We’ll be there,” he whispers, solemnly. The house. Where Mom used to live. The place where all our memories were formed.
We part ways, but only for the time being. I can’t help but dwell on my father’s words. “You need a woman.” A woman can’t solve your problems. What I’ve learned is that only you and you alone can solve your problems. There aren’t any magic switches in this life. Women come and women go. That’s just a fact. I love my father, but he’s wrong about a few things. Pussy is temporary. That’s final.
Olivia
“One more weed until we’re done. Can you believe it?” Josie is the beautiful, neurotic, blonde friend I met on the first day of classes here. San Diego University. We’re both about to get our degree in Health Studies, which essentially means that when I get out of here, I’ll have to run a juice bar or something. Still, she’s excited about school being over. As for me, I was kind of hoping to have another year left, somehow. How the heck am I supposed to go out into the real world? I’m practically still a child.
“I can believe it,” I tell her. “In fact, I’m pretty much dreading it at this point.”
“You’re insane. It’s because you haven’t gotten laid yet, isn’t it?” she asks. Her question comes complete with a twisted smile.
“Why do you always bring that up?” I sigh and continue walking. My schoolbooks sit jammed in my backpack, pressed against my back. If I ever get scoliosis, it’s because of my years here. If I ever go completely broke, it’ll be because of the same damn thing.
“Because I feel for you, girl. Seriously. Like, you don’t know what you’re missing out on,” she says.
“So it’s like this magic switch, huh? Once a cock goes into my vagina, I’ll feel the weight of the world drop from my shoulders?” I ask the question, but I don’t expect any real answers. The door to the outside courtyard of the Health and Sciences building is right in front of us. Josie swings it open and I feel the spring air hit my face. Sex can’t be better than this weather. It just can’t be.
“Actually yes!” she cackles. “Finals week? I call Eric. Parents getting a divorce? I call Samuel. Car accident? I call both of them and listen to them fight over me.”
“Who the hell is Samuel?” I ask her.
“Just some guy I met last week at that party,” she shrugs. “He’s going to be a doctor.” She makes a puffed-out gesture with her chest and laughs. I laugh with her, although I’m not too sure what we’re laughing about.
“You know I choose to be a…” I stop myself from saying the word. There’s just too many people around right now and, frankly, it’s embarrassing that anyone even knows.
“A virgin?” Josie blurts out. A couple of girls walking next to us giggle to themselves as I turn beet red and look around for a nice bush to hide in. No one understands me on this subject. To the world, I’m kind of a freak, but I value the perfect experience.
“I value the idea of love,” I tell her, proudly.
“Oh, God,” she groans and slumps over. “You’d think four years at university would sharpen your critical faculties a bit.”
“What?! I don’t get everyone’s deal. What’s so wrong with having values?” We sit down in the center-left of the courtyard. I swing my backpack onto the ground and hunch over the table.
“Love is a societal and cultural construct. It’s an idea men use to indoctrinate women into getting married and having babies. All those Disney cartoons… do relationships ever really work out that way? Hell no. You fall for someone and, if you’re lucky, a couple years later you can meet someone new and fall for them,” she says.
“Look,” I tell her. “I don’t need the women’s studies lecture. I took that course two years ago.”
“I’m just saying…” She smiles and pulls out a cigarette.
“I get that your parents are going through this new divorce thing. I hope you know that I’ll always be here for you,” I say. “In my opinion, life is what you make it. If I want it to be a goddamn fairytale, it’s going to be a fairytale.”
“You’re really going to wait until you’re like thirty to have sex with someone?” she asks. I don’t even try to answer. This whole conversation is getting out of hand this point. I simply put a hand up in the air, to try and change the subject, but she’s on a roll. “No, seriously. Don’t cut me off. This is an important topic. Let me get this straight. You’re going to fall in love and marry someone without knowing what sex is like with other people?”