Victoria Pade - The Pregnancy Project

Jacob Weber was one student that I’ve never forgotten. After a rocky start at Saunders, he became an academic whiz—a Harvard med school graduate turned star fertility specialist. It’s too bad that the aptitude he’s shown in scientific matters never extended to matters of the heart.

His schoolmate Ella Gardner is full of heart, from her work as a federal prosecutor to her loyalty to her family. But she’s never been lucky in love, nor in fulfilling her greatest dream, becoming a mother. Now that she’s turned to Dr. Weber’s expert counsel as a last resort, I wonder if they both might receive an unexpected prescription…for one another.

Dear Reader,

Most of us look forward to October for the end-of-the-month treats, but we here at Silhouette Special Edition want you to experience those treats all month long—beginning, this time around, with the next book in our MOST LIKELY TO… series. In The Pregnancy Project by Victoria Pade, a woman who’s used to getting what she wants, wants a baby. And the man she’s earmarked to help her is her arrogant ex-classmate, now a brilliant, if brash, fertility expert.

Popular author Gina Wilkins brings back her acclaimed FAMILY FOUND series with Adding to the Family, in which a party girl turned single mother of twins needs help—and her handsome accountant (accountant?), a single father himself, is just the one to give it. In She’s Having a Baby, bestselling author Marie Ferrarella continues her miniseries, THE CAMEO, with this story of a vivacious, single, pregnant woman and her devastatingly handsome—if reserved—next-door neighbor. Special Edition welcomes author Brenda Harlen and her poignant novel Once and Again, a heartwarming story of homecoming and second chances. About the Boy by Sharon DeVita is the story of a beautiful single mother, a widowed chief of police…and a matchmaking little boy. And Silhouette is thrilled to have Blindsided by talented author Leslie LaFoy in our lineup. When a woman who’s inherited a hockey team decides that they need the best coach in the business, she applies to a man who thought he’d put his hockey days behind him. But he’s been…blindsided!

So enjoy, be safe and come back in November for more. This is my favorite time of year (well, the beginning of it, anyway).

Regards,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

is a native of Colorado, where she continues to live and work. Her passion—besides writing—is chocolate, which she indulges in frequently and in every form. She loves romance novels and romantic movies—the more lighthearted the better—but she likes a good, juicy mystery now and then, too.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Dear Jacob,

I wish you continued success in your academic career. Don’t still on her pale-hold you back ever again.

All best wishes,

Your professor,

Gilbert Harrison

Ella,

It was a pleasure to hear of your graduation from law school. You were—and still are—one of my best and brightest. Keep reaching for the stars, and I hope you get everything you want in life.

Warmest regards,

Professor Gilbert Harrison

Saunders University

T he waiting room of Dr. Jacob Weber’s office was like most doctors’ offices. Uncomfortable chairs, upholstered in a mauve tweed fabric lined teal-green walls. The chairs, which formed a U around a coffee table covered with outdated magazines, faced the half wall that separated them from the receptionist’s desk. Inexpensive prints in silver frames hung on the walls—all of them some form of mauve-and-teal-green flowers—and a potted fern stood in one corner.

As Ella Gardner sat there she wondered if there was a handbook for decorators of medical offices that said mauve and teal green were calming colors, and that a token potted plant gave a homey touch. But even if that was the common perception, it didn’t work for her. She didn’t feel at home. She didn’t feel calm. And no amount of office decoration could change the fact that she wasn’t looking forward to the consultation she was waiting for with the man who had been touted in a recent article entitled The Best Healthcare Providers of Boston as the most innovative, cutting-edge fertility specialist the city had to offer.

But Jacob Weber was her last hope.

So she’d made the appointment. She’d nearly begged for it. She’d had herself put on a waiting list for cancellations when the receptionist had said there were no appointments available for two months. When that same receptionist had called yesterday to say there had, indeed, been a cancellation, Ella had juggled three other pressing duties at the office to be able to get there.

Jacob Weber was as widely known for his arrogance and bad bedside manner as he was for his expertise and use of the newest experimental techniques.

Not that his superior, pompous, self-important attitudes were news to Ella. They’d both attended Saunders University, and although Ella had been three years ahead of Jacob and had never actually been introduced to him, his reputation as the rich boy who considered himself better than everyone else had been widespread. As well, Ella’s younger sister, Sara, had been in Jacob Weber’s class, so Ella had heard enough about him not to doubt his current claim to fame as the best doctor with the worst disposition.

But she wasn’t there to be friends with Jacob Weber. She was there in hopes that he could do what no one else had been able to do for her in the past three years—conquer her infertility so she could have her heart’s desire: a child of her own.

There was another woman in the waiting room, and after a glance at Ella, the other woman took a compact from her purse and checked to see if there was lipstick on her teeth. Ella only had on lip gloss but suddenly wondered if something about her appearance had prompted the woman to be concerned about her own.

She didn’t want her insecurity to be broadcast, though, and since she’d come straight from court after filing papers in a case she was working on, she used her briefcase as a decoy, pulling it up onto her lap. Hoping it seemed as if she’d just remembered something in it, she opened the briefcase.

There was a mirror on the inside of the lid and she used that to take stock.

No, no lip gloss on her straight white teeth—it was all still on her pale-rose-colored, not-thick, not-too-too-thick, not-too-thin lips.

Her hair was in place, too. At least as in place as it ever got. It was curly. Very curly. Shirley Temple curly. So she kept it chin length—just short enough to wear parted down the middle and in a supercurly bob when she wanted it down, just long enough to pull up into a scrunchee at her crown when it was too unruly to deal with and needed to simply be contained. Like today. But none of it had escaped, so it wasn’t a stray corkscrew that had caused the other woman to worry.

Ella didn’t wear much makeup—only blush, mascara and a little eyeliner to enhance her light-gray eyes—and none of that had melted away. And there were no smudges on her slightly turned-up nose. No ugly blemishes had cropped up on her pronounced cheekbones or on her small chin or forehead to mar her normally clear, peaches-and-cream skin, so she decided it hadn’t been anything in that area that had alarmed her companion-in-waiting.