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Forbidden Prescription 6

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Stephanie Brother

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She was off limits… a first-year resident, a potential surgical intern. But I wanted her for myself.

I’ve worked hard to get where I am in life, but as unshakeable as my confidence might be, there are still some things that are outside of my control… but I’m determined to change that.

On top of everything else going on in my life, I have to oversee the first-year residents for this session. Moving through the session these first-years have to apply for specialty internships, and the highest prize is with the surgical team. Now I just have to make a decision.

Olivia is the one I want – but I don’t just want her for the internship. I want her in my bed.

A simple ruse: bringing her as my fake girlfriend at an important fundraiser where I need to make a great impression.

It should have been simple. I should have been able to control myself, but when I got my hands on Olivia, all bets were off and all my careful plans went out the window. Now I have to hide our relationship from the hospital administration, her roommate, and my father…

And to make matters worse, it looks like my father and her mother are hitting it off. I don’t know what I’ll do if she joins the family…

This is a romance novel with NO cliffhangers, NO cheating, and a guaranteed happy ending!

Books by Author:

Stephanie Brother Books

Chapter 1


“Okay, okay, settle down,” I said, feeling irritated about working with the first year residents. I liked the prestige of being a teaching doctor with Columbia University Irving Medical Center in Manhattan, just years after receiving my diploma, but it was turning out to be more work than I originally anticipated. Now, I had to show up to class and answer questions while I really wanted to be working on my own career.

When I was asked if I was interested in doing a round of teaching at CUIMC, I jumped to take it before it was offered to anyone else. I liked to be the best. I knew I would enjoy the attention it would bring, especially from young, educated women. How hard could teaching be, really?

As it turned out, I had to prepare a lesson once a week, and I had to be engaging with the interns, all the interns. Originally, I’d figured I could just tell surgery stories for thirty minutes or so, then let them ask me questions. But, then there was the assignments and tests I had to give. So, I wrote a few easy quizzes, handed them out at the end of our morning session, and had one of the second-year residents grade them for me. I really didn’t want to talk to any of the interns about why they were failing, so I tried not to make the quizzes too difficult. I really didn’t want to make life harder for anyone, especially myself. I just wanted to receive my recognition. And, if I got a few phone numbers from the hotter female interns in the group at the end of the session, it would be worth it.

Normally, this gig wasn’t much of a hassle. In fact, I enjoyed being able to spend time with the eager to learn interns. The hospital administration thought having a younger doctor teach the interns would allow me to reach them better than one of the older surgeons on staff. They even gave me extra time away from the operating theater to put together my lessons. However, for most of the extra time I was allotted, I used it to flip through dating apps for my weekend entertainment. I knew I should have been working harder, but I spent so much damn time working. I wanted to have fun, too.

“Now, this morning, we’re going to go over speaking to grieving loved ones,” I said, clearing my throat. “If you can’t break bad news to someone with compassion, you’re not going to be a very successful and sought after surgeon. Word will get around that you are cold and unfeeling. I’m sure most of you already believe you have your bedside manner developed and you think you’re set. But, you would be wrong. All those simulations you’ve done are nothing compared to the real thing. So you can never be too prepared. And, some loved ones will take your news harder than others. If you haven’t started practicing your bedside manner, you’re already behind. And you damn well better be able to tell those grieving loved ones in layman’s terms what happened to their precious child, wife, husband, mother or father. The last thing they want to hear is a bunch of technical medical terms.” I grinned over the sea of concerned faces. I liked scaring the interns.

They were all just a year or two younger than me, but then I finished my undergraduate degree in biology by the time I was nineteen. Then, I finished med school in two and a half years, and the next three years in residency and then chose my field and did another round of internship, though it didn’t last long. I’d been working full time as a surgeon with CUIMC for nearly three years, and I was at the top of my game. I was already being mentioned on “Thirty Under Thirty” lists. I was twenty-eight and now teaching my peers. I’d say things were going pretty well for me.

“Now, don’t any of you think that you can ride my coattails, just because I spent a few hours with you,” I said. “If you’re good at what you do, I’ll consider putting a good word in for you. But, I’m not going to call the Dean of the Faculties of Health Sciences and Medicine and gush about how great you did on my little quizzes. My reputation matters a great deal to me. Remember that when you’re frantically searching medical texts for answers. Most of you are probably going to drop out because you can’t hack it. I’m sorry, but that’s the way things go.”

“How do you suggest we improve our bedside manner, Dr. Rye?” a geeky-looking intern asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” I replied. “First, read over the documented deaths during surgery at CUIMC, you will find them in the hospital archives and look for most common factors in the deaths from the past ten years. It will help you put together a sound and compassionate answer for those grieving loved ones. Next find a few friends or better yet, other interns, to practice on. You want to grieve with them, without being overly emotional and teary. If you’re the one crying, they may suspect you had something to do with the death. However, you don’t want to be cold and unsympathetic either. It’s a fine balance and it can take years to develop the right tone.”