Amy Whitfield is blindsided when she comes home and finds a note on the fridge from her husband, Wesley, stating that after four years of marriage, he’s leaving her. Amy was in the midst of trying to spice things up, to bring life back to their boring marriage. It seems now that she was too late.
As Amy sits with her head between her knees, trying to figure out what to do next, a call comes from Mercer General Hospital. The ER nurse is telling Amy’s answering machine that Wesley has been in a car accident.
When Amy arrives at the hospital, she finds her husband in a coma. The doctors say there is no sign of brain damage, and Wesley will eventually wake up. Relieved, Amy sees this as her second chance: the chance to get it right this time. To channel the girl Wesley won’t leave when he regains consciousness… She just needs some help to pull it off. After all, she was voted girl most likely to die a virgin in high school.
Amy would never figure on getting that help from Mark Reilly…Wesley’s doctor! He’s a non-committer, too-cute-for-his-own-good bachelor, and completely the guy Amy begins falling for. It’s a race against time to see who wakes up first—Amy or her husband.
I jumped a mile off the chair. My pocketbook crashed to the ground, my belongings falling out. My true identity evident in the contents sprawled on the ground. A few empty gum wrappers, a coupon keeper (yellow with a matching rubber band tied around it), a pack of mints, my checkbook, and a brown, worn wallet. Nope, no condoms or fuzzy handcuffs to match my outfit. Thank goodness.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that you seemed so uncomfortable. Would you like a recliner brought in for you?” He bent down on the floor next to me, helping me with the contents of my bag. Luckily I had my personal girl items safely zippered in the inside pocket.
“Did I just hit you? When I woke? Please, tell me I didn’t just hit you. Wesley never wakes me up anymore. He says I’m one of those violent people when I’m woken up. For that reason, I have to set my alarm clock extra loud in the mornings.”
“No, you didn’t hit me. You fell asleep, and I woke you. You looked very uncomfortable.”
I sat back on the chair, unaware that my outfit was still advertising my female goods. “Let me get you a recliner and maybe a set of scrubs.”
“Scrubs?” My posture became erect again. “I’m not going into an operating room, am I? I can’t stand to see blood.
I’ll wait here.”
“No, Mrs. Whitfield. It’s just that—” He looked down at my outfit. “I thought you’d be more comfortable in a pair of scrubs.”
Julieann lives in Virginia, yet longs to live everywhere else. It doesn’t come as a surprise that along with her gypsy soul, comes an active imagination. That’s why she loves to write and invent worlds and people, so that she can formulate their happily ever after. Hobbies include cooking new recipes, sewing, and spending time with her cute boyfriend/husband and five fabulous children. Vacations happen in Nantucket or the Carolina beaches—anywhere there is inspiration for her next book. One day she hopes to travel to Italy, drive one of those little cars around the countryside, and speak the language fluently!
a Rafflecopter giveaway