BACK TO YOU is a complete standalone, and can be read as your first Kimberly Kincaid book or your twentieth.
BACK TO YOU is a steamy medical contemporary that has action in the emergency room and the bedroom!
BACK TO YOU in a spinoff series from Kimberly’s sexy Station Seventeen books. It stands completely alone, and does share a world with some very hot cops and steamy firefighters (who make cameos!) No cliffhangers, no spoilers, all red-hot HEA.
Review coming soon!
Of all the ways Parker Drake had envisioned his first day as an intern, witnessing a sedan-versus-bike messenger that resulted in an open tib-fib before he’d even walked through the hospital doors hadn’t been in the top one thousand.
Being face to drop-jawed stare with the one woman he’d been certain he’d never lay eyes on again, and who probably hated him as passionately as he’d once loved her?
Had to be a one in a million.
The man in his arms groaned in pain, snapping time back into motion and Parker back to reality in less than a heartbeat.
“I need a little help over here,” Parker called out, and fucking great, Tess was here, too?
“What happened?” Charlie asked as Tess hollered for a gurney and a C-collar, both of which arrived astonishingly fast.
Parker blinked, his brain momentarily too swamped with adrenaline to form a reply. Focus. On something other than how the hell Charlie is here in front of you instead of far, far away in Nashville. Now would be good, since you’re holding a guy whose tibia is sticking out of his skin.
Well, that did the trick to redirect his thoughts from her, at least temporarily. Then again, work always did. “Mike Yoshida, got clipped by a Camry while riding his bike,” Parker said, placing the man on the gurney and diving right in to the bullet. “Obvious right lower leg deformity, GCS 12. No apparent head or neck trauma, no LOC.” The guy’s helmet was still firmly in place. Not that it had done his leg a lick of good, but at least that would be a hell of a lot easier to repair.
“Hi, Mr. Yoshida, I’m Dr. Michaelson, and this is Dr. Becker,” Tess said, but only after she’d shot a micro-frown in Parker’s direction that promised nothing good once their patient was stable. “We’re going to take care of you, okay?”
“O-okay.” He tried to nod, but Tess placed her hands firmly over the sides of his helmet to keep him still as Charlie grabbed the C-collar.
“Dr. Becker and I are going to put this around your neck. I know it’s not super comfortable, but we have to err on the side of caution until we can get a closer look at your spine.”
Charlie, who was in street clothes, and Tess, who wasn’t, had both gloved up to examine the man while a nurse guided the gurney past the automatic doors and into a curtain area.
“You didn’t think to call a paramedic instead of dragging him in here on your own?” Charlie asked, her red-gold brows pulled low in disapproval, as Tess continued her rapid trauma assessment on the patient.
Parker took a deep breath and reminded himself that he deserved every degree of chilliness Charlie wanted to offer. “I am a paramedic. Or I was for five years. Anyway”—he grabbed a pair of nitrile gloves from the dispenser box on the wall and slid them into place—“the accident happened less than a block away. Calling an ambo would’ve been stupid.”
Dropping her voice enough to keep it from the patient while Tess asked him a few more questions and examined his leg, Charlie said, “He was in an MVA, and you moved him without a C-collar. That is stupid.”
Shock popped Parker right in the solar plexus. “Seeing as how we were in the middle of a busy city street and the guy had already been hit by a car once, I thought getting him out of traffic might be prudent.”
“Parker—” she started, but he shook his head. As much as he wanted to, arguing with her was a bad idea for several reasons, none of them small. Anyway, he couldn’t change what he’d already done.
“Yes, I moved him,” Parker said quietly. “But I did an RTA in the field. He was alert and reactive, with no signs of a head or neck injury. He was in a lot of pain and had an open fracture, and I wanted to get him treated as fast as possible. So, I made a judgment call.”
If her expression was anything to go by, Charlie remained highly unimpressed. “So he didn’t present with any outward signs of a spinal injury,” she argued. “That doesn’t mean he’s fine. There could be any number of things going on that you can’t see.”
“I know that.” Parker had completed four years of medical school, nearly seven months of his first internship, and three of his five years at Station Seventeen as a lead paramedic. He was hardly a dumbass.
“This tib-fib is pretty straightforward,” Tess said loudly enough to grab both of their attention. She’d—damn—already cut away the patient’s jeans to reveal a nasty break, and splinted the injured leg to keep it stable. “Let’s get head and neck films to see what we’re dealing with otherwise.” She swung her stare to the dark-haired nurse who had appeared with the gurney and stuck around for the ride. “And page Dr. Sheridan, along with whoever’s on call for ortho, stat, please.”
“I’ve got the films, Dr. Michaelson,” Charlie said, her eyes on Tess’s very pregnant belly, and Parker’s throat went tight. But then Tess had stepped out of the curtain area and the nurse had produced two protective aprons, and Charlie was shooting the X-rays as easily as she’d order a fucking latte.
“Head and neck are clear,” she called to Tess a few seconds later, who returned to the curtain area and looked at the images on the portable monitor, nodding her agreement.
“It’s just my…leg that hurts.” The man’s labored grunt punctuated the claim, and Charlie—Christ, how was it possible that she’d gotten even prettier over the last six years—softened her gaze, leaning in toward him.
“Do you have any drug allergies, Mr. Yoshida?”
Another groan. “No.”
Charlie looked at the nurse. “Start an IV so we can get some pain meds on board while we wait for those consults. We’re also going to need to do a full set of films on that leg for ortho.”
“I can start the IV,” Parker offered, taking a step toward the supply cart beside the gurney. Anything would be better than just standing here, useless.
Charlie’s arm shot out, and even through his shirt and hers, the contact sizzled through him as if they’d touched intimately, skin on skin. “No. You absolutely cannot.”
“I’m qualified to do it,” he said. He’d started hundreds of lines. Maybe even thousands. For God’s sake, Charlie had been there when he’d learned how.
“You’re a paramedic,” Tess said, clearly on Team Charlie, and also clearly unaware that he’d tendered his resignation at Station Seventeen to return to medical school and had been placed here at Remington Mem for his internship, take two. “We have very capable nurses. You brought Mr. Yoshida in, but we’ve got it from here, Parker. You can go.”
His pulse slapped faster. “Actually, I—”
The curtain moved, the metal loops shushing along the track built in to the ceiling and stopping the rest of Parker’s words in his windpipe.
“Someone called for a—whoa, yeah. Surgical consult,” said Jonah Sheridan, who had appeared behind Tess. Parker recognized him, both from running patients in to the emergency department for the last five years and the semi-rare occasion that the staff at Remington Mem came to hang out at The Crooked Angel, where the first responders from Station Seventeen and the cops from the Thirty-Third precinct tended to gather.
Sheridan completed a quick but thorough perusal of the patient’s injury. Parker listened carefully as Tess gave the guy a brief rundown and the nurse started the IV, then again as Sheridan looked at the patient.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Mike,” the guy groaned, leaning back against the gurney. “Mike Yoshida.”
“Well, Mr. Yoshida, I hope you like Jell-O, because you’re going to be here for a day or two. You definitely need surgery to repair that injury to your leg.” He turned toward the dark-haired nurse, who Parker belatedly recognized from his first internship six years ago, and damn. How could he have changed so much while this place had stood stock-still?
“Kelly, let’s get some antibiotics in that IV along with the pain meds Dr. Becker ordered, and call surgery to book an OR.” Dr. Sheridan rattled off a few more directives—specific medications and dosages, plus a rush on the X-rays Charlie had already ordered—then shifted to look at Parker, blond brows lifted in question.
“You’re the paramedic, right?”
S&*t. “Intern. Parker Drake.” Tugging off his still-spotless gloves, he extended his hand, trying as hard as he possibly could to un-hear the twin gasps of shock from Tess and Charlie.
“Huh,” Jonah said. “A new attending and a paramedic intern. The hits just keep on comin’. Okay, Mr. Yoshida.” He turned back toward the patient while Parker battled some shock of his own. Charlie was working here now? As an attending? Surely, he’d misunderstood. “Let’s get you ready for surgery, shall we?”
“OR three is open, Dr. Sheridan,” Kelly said, hanging up the wall-mounted phone. “They’re expecting you.”
“Perfect. We can do the films upstairs while I scrub in and get Dr. Mallory up to speed. Let’s go.”
Sheridan and Kelly wheeled the gurney from the curtain area. Now would normally be the time for everyone to scatter, with the patient stable and the handoff to a surgeon made. But since everything about the current situation was far from normal, Tess killed the four hundred-pound silence with a long, low exhale.
“I’m sorry. Did you just say you’re…”
“An intern. Starting today.” He looked at Charlie, whose expression was impossible to decipher. “Did Dr. Sheridan say you’re…”
“An attending. Temporarily, at least. I’m covering Tess’s maternity leave for ten weeks.”
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Adam rushed down the porch steps to the sidewalk to his bike parked at the curb, unable to get his best friend’s face out of his head. If James, who was thousands of miles away, sensed something was up here, then how obvious was it to the people who saw him every day? Man, he had it bad for Mel, and that wasn’t good. He didn’t want to hurt her. Or her family.
And he never wanted to break his promise to James or lie to his best friend again.
He owed the guy too much to do that.
Most of all, he absolutely didn’t want to fall in love. Not with Mel.
As he cranked the Harley’s engine, James’s words reverberated in his mind.
Hate to see her end up with some player like us…
Adam’s reputation in the romance department was less than stellar, to put it kindly.
You’re not good enough for her.
Except when he was with Mel, she made him feel like he was good enough. She made him feel like he could be the man she thought he was. Someone strong and worthy and brave.
Then he’d gone and made that stupid promise to James. To look after Mel, to take care of her, to keep her from falling in with the wrong sort of guy. A player, like him. Sure, people appreciated his service for their country, but no one wanted their daughters dating him, that was for damn sure. As he pulled away from the curb in a cloud of smoke and a squeal of tires, Adam felt more torn than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t want to betray James, and he definitely didn’t want to hurt Mel. But she was doing this either way, becoming who she was meant to be. Whether he helped or not. She was safer with him, from that standpoint. He knew the rules.
Adam stopped at a red light and rubbed his face. At least he’d thought he knew them, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. What scared him most was how far beyond a casual fling his feelings for Mel had already gone, without his knowledge or consent. Beyond her laugh or her smile. Beyond her killer body and her magnificent brain. Beyond the way she looked at him and the way she made him feel like he stood ten feet tall whenever they were together.
Lord above, she made him feel smart and respected and sexy, too.
He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, if ever.
The light turned green and he sped forward, trying to keep it all in perspective. He’d rein in his heart now, and it would all be good. It wasn’t too late. It wasn’t love. He just wanted more time to appreciate this…this…whatever this was between them, before it was over. Somehow, the past week or so, Mel had gone past being James’s little sister and become a vivacious woman he wanted to know better. That was all.
And as much as Adam didn’t want anything messing up his friendship with James, he couldn’t let go of his connection with Mel. Not yet.
He’d keep it light, fun, because that’s the deal he’d made. Once this was over, he’d walk away, let her go. Because that’s what she wanted. Because that’s what he’d promised. Because that’s the only way any of this would work out in the end.
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USA Today Bestselling Author Traci Douglass writes fiction bursting with romance, usually mixed with a healthy portion of snark. Her stories feature sizzling heroes with quick wits and troubled pasts and smart, independent heroines who always give as good as they get. Her books are published with Harlequin/Mills & Boon, Entangled Publishing, and Tule Publishing. She’s an active member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Indiana Romance Writers of America (IRWA), and the International Thriller Writers (ITW), and holds a Master of Fine Arts Degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University.
“Smart, sassy, and utterly delightful! Get ready to fall head-over-heels in love with Lucy, one of the wittiest and most inspiring heroines I’ve ever met!”
– Annika Martin New York Times bestselling author
Muffin Top, a hot romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn is available now!
Muffin Top by Avery Flynn is the second installment in The Hartigans series and from the first page proves it’s one-click worthy. It’s time to add books to your shelves and e-readers as the winter shortly approaches. I’m always on the search for a book that can stand on its own with a plot that is worth my time, money, and soul.
Frankie Hartigan is best described as a passionate man both professionally and personally. A dedicated fireman who can’t imagine doing anything else is less than thrilled with a forced three week vacation. Rest and relaxation aren’t part of his vocabulary. One night at his brother’s bar will change everything. With a reputation for being a sure thing and a caution sign that warns women to keep their expectations low. Is that who he really is? Is it possible that he wants something more? One woman will have him on the edge of the flames and this need to be with only one woman will give way to one of my top reads this year!
Lucy Kavanagh is tired of the assumptions, innuendos, and horrible things people say because of her size. The only people who seem to be offended or bothered by her weight are the people who vocalize their thoughts. A chance encounter at a local bar leaves her once again defending her size to a less than charming patron. Out of no where an unexpected knight rescues her without any expectations in return. Readers I need to state that Lucy isn’t a fair maiden in need of rescue rather a heroine who can handle herself just fine despite the emotional toll it’s taken. Is there a man who can love and appreciate her for who she is? Will this handsome knight show her heart that she too can be someones fairy tale ending?
Lucy is headed home to attend her high school reunion but attending without a date only proves what everyone has believed about her. Will Frankie’s idea provide the resolution she’s been seeking? If Lucy and Frankie can survive three weeks together, they will discover that holding on to bitterness and anger isn’t always a great idea. Will they finally come to peace with their past and pave a path to a happy ending?
Family is everything when it comes the core of Avery’s books, and this family is anything but typical. The characters are layered and any reader can connect with their past, present, and heart. The little insecurities we cling to don’t matter to those that love the “total package” and will defend against those who think otherwise?
The dialogue is genuine, full of emotions and will cause most readers to appreciate all our partners have to offer and give us courage to stand up and defend what we believe We have all second guessed someones motives wondering what if, or is “this thing” real. Hold on tight, this book adventure is worthy of a lifetime movie!
Again this must read tackles the biggest issues we face, we all have something we dislike about our bodies and try to hide behind. Avery takes that insecurity and delves into uncharted territory as Frankie and Lucy tackle their own skeletons to find a happy-ever-after. It’s raw, tender, and has a ton of sparks and delivers one heck of a burn readers! I can’t wait to read more!
If you’re looking in the mood for a hot read this book is scorchin. Caution readers, consuming this story might lead to an unexpected need to turn on the A/C.
While this is part of The Hartigans series, it can be read as a standalone.
Download your copy today!
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The temptation to say “Yes, Frankie, please squash him like a bug while I clap and watch” was so, so strong—like, the guys who pull semi trucks with their teeth strong. Instead, Lucy played along with her best friend’s fiancé’s brother— OMG, that was now the name of her imaginary all-girl ska band—and smiled sweetly up at him.
“He was bothered by my dinner order, honey.”
“Really?” Frankie looked down at her plate, over to the dips#*t, and then right at her. There was no missing the devil in his eyes right before he turned his attention back to the other man. “What’s wrong with what my girl’s eating?”
Mr. In Her Business blanched. Literally. The color drained out of his face so fast that he resembled one of those swipe right before and after photos on makeover blogs. How in the hell she managed to not laugh out loud she had no frickin’ clue.
“N-n-nothing,” the man stuttered.
Nope. He was not getting off that easily.
She looked up at Frankie, still standing next to her chair, his big hand braced on the back of it, and said in the clueless voice that anyone with a brain would know meant there was danger ahead, “He said I should have ordered a salad, then I might have a chance to move from a five to an eight. I’m a five because I have great tits.”
Thunderous didn’t begin to describe the dark look of pure vengeance that crossed Frankie’s face, making even the freckles that crossed over the bridge of his nose look scary. Mr. Buttinsky made a little squeaking noise that reminded Lucy of the sound of air coming out of a balloon when someone pulled the tip taut as it was deflating. Frankie took a step forward, menace vibrating off of him in waves. The other guy didn’t bother to say a word, he just took off, weaving his way at a fast clip through the crowded bar and out the front door. Lucy liked to imagine that he peed his pants a little as he did so.
“Thanks, Frankie,” she said to the man still staring at the departing figure of Mr. Peed His Pants. “I owe you one.”
Her ginger knight in well-fitting jeans and a T-shirt made some kind of noise that maybe was a response in the affirmative. It sounded kinda like “no problem.” Whatever. She was used to that from guys. She was only of interest until a hotter, skinnier, or prettier woman came along. It was the universal fat chick cloaking device.
Determined not to let it annoy her as much as it usually would, she turned back to her jalapeño cheeseburger, spicy fries, and soda. Now she could finally enjoy her dinner in peace.
Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Frankie clunked down a three-fourths filled mug of beer on the other side of her table, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down. Before she could even ask what he was doing, he waved the waitress over and told her he wanted whatever Lucy was eating, plus an extra order of fries and another beer. Once she’d left, he turned his attention to Lucy and gave her what could only be described as a vibrator smile. She named it that in her head—thankfully only in her head—because she now had a desperate need for her vibrator and maybe a fresh pack of batteries.
“You’re not gonna make me eat alone now that we’re on a date, are you?” he asked, swiping one of her fries.
USA Today bestselling romance author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.
She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.
Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.
Connect with Avery
Mailing List: http://averyflynn.com/newsletter/
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