Jessa James - Dr. Hottie

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Dr. Hottie Dr. Hottie I’m not a big believer in romance. I’m certainly not the type of woman to get drunk, meet a guy, and go to friggin Reno later that night to get married. But Dr. Hottie himself, AKA Jack Stratton, changed all that. Even if it was all a lie. Okay, so our relationship is as fake as a bad spray tan. It’s all to show up our mutual exes, make them realize how much they miss us. Can I help it if Jack is so ridiculously handsome that simply being near him makes me blush? And when he smiles at me… Maybe I should’ve nicknamed him Dr. Panty Dropper. And I admit, part of me is head-over-heels in love with him. How can I not be when he keeps telling me we have to spend time together? We have to keep up the charade. We have to kiss in private so it looks good when we do it for show. When my ex finally gets the message a month after our “wedding”, I’m left with two options. Go back to the man who the whole town says is right for me… or gather all my courage and strike off in a new direction. A direction that includes a new future that Jack and I make, together.

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

Epilogue - Jack

Epilogue Addy

Epilogue - The Wedding

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Also by Jessa James

About the Author

Dr. Hottie: Copyright © 2020 by Jessa James

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

Published by Jessa James

James, Jessa

Dr. Hottie

Cover design copyright 2020 by Jessa James, Author

Images/Photo Credit: Deposit Photos: alanpoulson

Publisher’s Note:

This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

This book has been previously published.

I’m not a big believer in romance. I’m certainly not the type of woman to get drunk, meet a guy, and go to friggin Reno later that night to get married.

But Dr. Hottie himself, AKA Jack Stratton, changed all that. Even if it was all a lie.

Okay, so our relationship is as fake as a bad spray tan. It’s all to show up our mutual exes, make them realize how much they miss us. Can I help it if Jack is so ridiculously handsome that simply being near him makes me blush? And when he smiles at me…

Maybe I should’ve nicknamed him Dr. Panty Dropper.

And I admit, part of me is head-over-heels in love with him. How can I not be when he keeps telling me we have to spend time together? We have to keep up the charade. We have to kiss in private so it looks good when we do it for show.

When my ex finally gets the message a month after our “wedding”, I’m left with two options. Go back to the man who the whole town says is right for me… or gather all my courage and strike off in a new direction. A direction that includes a new future that Jack and I make, together.

If Addison Fuller could summarize her experience with drinking tequila, it would probably go like this: tequila gives you rug burn on your face, and a ring on your finger.

But to tell the story correctly, she would have to start from the beginning, before she’d ever laid eyes on Dr. Jack Stratton. It would go something like this…

Addy made a frustrated sound, and felt a little chunk of her worries slide away. As she wiped down the built-in bookshelves in the great room, she felt the weight of the past ten days melt away. Even the confrontation with Jeremy seemed like a distant memory.

Who cares if it was just last week? she thought.

“Additup,” her dad sang from his La-Z-Boy, which was perpetually parked in front of the television. “Take a break! You’re making me tired just watching you.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re in a recliner,” she said with a laugh.

“It’s a holiday! It’s your day off, take a breather,” he said.

“But then who would pick up after you and Kenzie?” she asked as she moved behind him with a duster and squeezed his shoulder.

He shook his head and reached for a beer. It was his third one of the day, Addy noted. Drinking beer, yelling at the television, and scowling at social invitations was the trifecta of his life. He barely talked to anyone besides her and Kenzie.

“Where is Kenzie?” she asked, wondering where her sister had gotten off to.

Her dad just grunted and looked at the tv in front of him. Her fingers itched to pluck the beer can from his hand before he passed out and spilled it all over the living room rug. She resisted, though.

I’ll just wait until he’s passed out. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.

Addy had worried about the drastic shift to hermitdom after her mom had passed, but it had been three years now.

This is the new normal, she thought to herself. She couldn’t believe there had been a time when her dad had worked eighty-hour weeks getting his restaurant started.

“What do you think of checking out the fireworks this year?” she asked, though she knew it was pointless. “Dad?”

She turned around, but he’d already started to snore. Gingerly, she pried the beer from his fingers and put it on the table.

Just in case she might awaken him with her cleaning, she took her chores to the garage. There was a major project she hadn’t had time for, one that had been on her to-do list for over a year. Keeping the inside of the home clean had been the priority. As Addy began to look through the stuffed shelves, a box of binders shifted and nearly hit her head.

Carefully, she began to pull out the box. Her own handwriting pulled her back to the blackest of days, when she’d been thirteen years old. It was when her mom had first been diagnosed, and she’d started to track the signs and symptoms meticulously.

Addison clucked her tongue as she flipped through hundreds of pages of her neat handwriting. Her mom’s entire life, from the day of diagnosis to the day she died, was right here in bright pink and turquoise ink.

“Red and swollen lymph nodes today,” was scrawled on the page in her ten year old cursive. “Doctor says it’s usually not a sign of cancer.”

Yeah, well. Sometimes doctors can be wrong.

Tears began to threaten at the corners of her eyes as she pored over the binders.

“What are you doing?” she asked herself. She looked to the recycling bin and for a moment had a surge of empowerment.