EBOOK: Miami Nights: The Complete Series, Books 1-5

Excerpt from the Miami Nights Series

MIAMI

Carmen

It took only one day for my dream job to turn into a nightmare. Actually, that’s being generous. In reality, it took one fifteen-minute meeting with the hospital president to throw years of studying, planning and dreaming straight out the window into the blistering south Florida sunshine.

Nowhere in the elaborate job description I’d been given at my interview to be Miami-Dade General Hospital’s assistant director of public relations did the words “babysitter” appear. Let’s face it, if I’d known what they really wanted me to do, I wouldn’t be wilting in the scorching early-morning heat waiting for Dr. Jason Northrup to arrive for his first day.

“Anything he wants or needs, get it for him,” Mr. Augustino had instructed. “Just keep him away from the executive offices.”

“But today’s my first day, too. Wouldn’t it be better to have someone who knows the facility meet and escort him?”

“I want you to do it,” he’d said, leaving no room for further argument.

“Should I bring him up here to speak with you?”

“I’m with the board of directors all day. Don’t bring him anywhere near the conference room.”

Something stunk to high heaven about this whole thing, but with so much on the line for me, quitting isn’t an option.

I’ve restored a bit of steel to my spine by the time the roar of a sports car draws my attention to the hospital’s long driveway.

I watch in disbelief as a sleek black convertible Porsche growls its way up the half-circle drive with Northrup at the wheel and a bottle blonde in a sexy red dress riding shotgun.

“What a cliché,” I mutter as he brings the low-slung black car to a halt two feet from where I stand ready to “welcome” him.

He alights from the car with cat-like grace, tall, muscular and even handsomer than his photo—of course. As he comes toward me, he flashes a cocky smile, and damn if every cell in my body doesn’t stand up and sing Hallelujah in a loud chorus of tightening nipples and dampening panties that infuriates me.

I don’t want any part of me reacting to any part of him, but I’d have to be dead not to notice this man. And while I might’ve been mostly numb for the last five years since my young husband died, Dr. Northrup is living proof that I’m still very much a living breathing woman who recognizes a hot man when she sees one.

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