The Doctor's Nanny
Page 1
The Doctor’s Nanny
Emerson Rose
Prism Heart Press
COPYRIGHT 2018 PRISM HEART PRESS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COVER DESIGN © 2018 Louisa Maggio
EDITING: Booktique Editing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume and responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.
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Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
The End
Commanding Officer
Copyright
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Her Marine
Copyright
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
King’s Baby
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Playboy’s Baby
Copyright
Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Connect With Us!
Acknowledgements for The Doctor’s Nanny
About the Author
Description
Sometimes, no matter where you come from, all you need is love.
When Sasha Rivers is wheeled into the emergency room after a car accident, Dr. Xander Sullivan knows she’s something special. Despite her injuries, Xander can’t help but be entranced by the mystery in her silver-blue eyes. Could this be the woman to bring his playboy days to an abrupt end?
There is much more to Sasha than Xander could ever imagine. Born dirt-poor and raised by a single mother in the heart of Minneapolis, nothing in Sasha’s life was easy. Things only got worse when she fell headlong into a tumultuous relationship with Enrique Sanchez, the son of Mexico’s most notorious drug lord.
And though Enrique continues to lurk in the shadows of her life, Sasha can’t help but find new hope in Xander’s arms. The man she once thought an arrogant asshole is more than meets the eye, and nothing makes that clearer than the relationship he has with his five-year-old daughter, Victoria. Lucky for both of them—Victoria is in desperate need of a nanny, and Sasha is without a job—it’s the perfect match in more ways than one.
As the once-broken doctor and his lonely nanny draw closer together, there’s no ignoring the connection that sparks up between them. They could be the perfect match, except Enrique is willing to do anything and everything to get he
r back, no matter the consequences.
1
Sasha
Dr. Sullivan is a world-renowned plastic surgeon, and he does not work in the emergency room at Serenity Medical Center. But, last week he was there for an emergency when one of his patients popped a breast implant and took an ambulance to the ER. I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes so hard they hurt when I found out that little piece of trivia.
It just so happens I went through the windshield of my 2009 Jeep Cherokee that very same night, and the good Dr. Sullivan stitched up two large gashes on my face. I don’t remember much about meeting him except for the distinct feeling he was an egotistical, arrogant douche waffle. I couldn’t even tell you why I thought that, maybe it was the drugs or the concussion, but the feeling was strong, and it didn’t fade with the drugs.
Today, I have the pleasure of meeting with him, un-medicated, for a follow-up appointment to check on my lacerations and schedule surgery on my nose which was smashed in the accident.
This morning when I was getting ready, I considered I might have been wrong about Dr. Sullivan. Maybe he is a down-to-earth, compassionate physician who just happens to be a plastic surgeon and looks like a movie star in his expensive clothes and his million-dollar Franck Muller watch. Yeah, right.
I’ve always been one to trust my instincts, and my instincts say this guy is a typical materialistic jerkwad who became a doctor for the money and not because he genuinely wanted to help people.
I snort when I pull up to the Mason and Sullivan Plastic Surgery Center. As hard as I try not to judge, I can’t help it when I slide my Ford Taurus rental into a row of high-end cars that cost more than I make in a year. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Sasha, my mom always says, so I stuff my first impression of the doctor, his facility, and his clientele down deep until my 2:00 p.m. appointment.
Inside, I feel as out of place as my Taurus looks in the parking lot. I check in and take my clipboard of papers to a plush leather sofa and sit with my head down focusing on the questions in front of me. I feel the eyes of a half-dozen women of various ages boring into me while I work. I briefly glanced over the group when I entered the front door. There’s a woman in her fifties across from me with a dressing on her nose, rhinoplasty I assume. Next to her sits a twenty-something woman with boobs so big I’m embarrassed for her, and on either side of me, there are two flat-chested women staring at Miss Triple D probably hoping for the same ridiculous results.
And then there is me with my natural C-cup boobs, my bruised and slashed up face, and a nose that looks like I got into a fight with Mike Tyson. Perfect, I couldn’t fit in any less, not that I care. I’m young, I’m in good shape, and I have nice boobs. I’ve never even considered having plastic surgery until my nose was rearranged last week. I just need to get through this surgery and back to my average life managing the Shoe Department at Macy’s.
“Sasha Rivers?” a nurse calls out from a door next to the marble reception desk.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say standing to join the Barbie-esque nurse holding another clipboard. “I’m not done filling these out yet,” I admit holding up the papers I barely started filling out.
“That’s fine, you can finish them in the exam room, no problem.” Barbie’s real name is Nia, and she is over-the-top friendly. That’s one point for the Mason and Sullivan clinic and zero for me.
“Thanks,” I say following her down a long hall to a small inlet where I step on a scale, and Nia measures how tall I am.
“We can go right in here,” she says opening one of the many exam-room doors. I follow her in and look around at the enormous space. Why anyone needs this much room to do a simple physical exam is beyond me.
There is a full-size couch and coffee table under a mammoth mirror at one end, a small area that looks almost like a wet bar, but surely isn’t, on the right. And closer to the door where we are still standing is a more traditional exam table, a sink, and counter with cupboards overhead.
“Wow, this is some exam room,” I say more to my self than Nia.
She laughs a musical laugh and pats the exam table. “The doctors like to sit down and get comfortable with their patients after a consultation. Not all the rooms are this big.”
Get comfortable, huh? I don’t know what to think of that comment. “I don’t mind sitting on the table and talking.”
Nia lifts one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Dr. Sullivan is adamant about separating his physical exams from making a plan of care. He thinks it’s important to switch spaces so you can focus on the surgical options and the side effects of the procedures.”
“Oh. Okay, whatever.” I think that’s a load of crap, but hey, who am I to mess with his Zen? She frowns but only for a fraction of a second, and her plastic smile is plastered on her face again.
“All right, I’m going to take your vital signs, and you can finish filling out your paperwork while you wait for Dr. Sullivan. Sound like a plan?” She tilts her head to the side like a dog does when he wants a Milk-Bone.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
She busies herself with wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm and sliding a thermometer across my forehead while I sit dutifully waiting to finish my paperwork.
“Perfect, perfect, perfect,” she chirps pointing at my forehead, my wrist, and my arm indicating that my temp, pulse, and blood pressure are perfect. And then she giggles like that little comment of hers was hilarious.
I pull up the corners of my mouth with a fake-ass smile, and a huh escapes me before I can stop myself. She frowns again, but like the first time, she covers it with a toothy Crest-white smile evening up the score. One point for me, and one for the fake plastic surgery clinic.
“Dr. Sullivan will be in to see you soon. Make yourself at home while you wait. We have magazines, and there is a television to watch if you like.”
“A TV? How long do you expect him to take?” I’m thinking if she is offering me a TV, it might be a while.
“Oh, not long, don’t worry. He’s running right on schedule today.”
That’s good because I feel like shit, and I want to go home. “Okay, thanks.”
When I’m alone, I decide to stay put on the exam table. I would feel weird lounging on the couch while I wait. After about ten minutes, I’m getting irritated. I could use a Vicodin for the pain in my face and a nap. I can’t take narcotics and drive so I haven’t had anything for pain for hours, and my face is throbbing.
Fifteen more minutes pass, and when I am moments away from leaving, Dr. Sullivan finally decides to grace me with his presence.
“Hello, Ms. Rivers, is it?”
“Yes,” I snap and shift my weight from one ass cheek to the other to keep the circulation going.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I had a little emergency that required my attention.”
“It’s fine, can we make the rest of this appointment quick? I’m in a lot of pain, and I’d like to go home so I can take something for it.” I wince when he reaches out and presses a finger on one side of my nose.
“We have procedures and protocols I am required to follow, but I’ll do what I can.”
“How about you start by not touching my nose again?”
He frowns and folds his arms across his chest. “I can get you something for the pain.”
“Can’t. I’m driving myself.”
“Suit yourself. So, how do the lacerations feel? They’re looking very good, and you won’t have any scaring.”
“None?” I ask surprised. I know he did a great job, but I figured when all was said and done, there would be some scaring.