The Doctor's Fake Fiancee: a Red River novel

by Victoria James

Overview

Former surgeon and self-professed life-long bachelor Evan Manning has one thing on his mind—to reclaim the career that a car accident stole from him. But when he's forced to return to his hometown of Red River, Evan comes face-to-face with the gorgeous woman who's haunted his dreams for the last year—the woman he rescued from the burning car that injured his hand. Now Evan needs her help. In a month, he'll have the job opportunity of a lifetime...he just needs a wife to get it.

Artist Grace Matheson is down on her luck again…until she walks into Evan Manning's office. When her sexy former hero hears that she needs work, he offers her a job and a home—if she'll pretend she's his fiancée. Grace knows she shouldn't fall for him. Once the month is up, Evan will be back to his old life. But the more time they spend together, the more real their feelings become—and the more likely heartbreak is.

Each book in the Red River series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Series Order:
Book #1 A Risk Worth Taking
Book #2 The Best Man's Baby
Book #3 The Doctor's Fake Fiancee
Book #4 The Rebel's Return

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781633751149
Publisher:	Entangled Publishing, LLC
Publication date:	10/20/2014
Series:	Red River , #3
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	240
Sales rank:	274,527
File size:	1 MB

About the Author

Victoria James is a romance writer living near Toronto. She is a mother to two young children, one very disorderly feline, and wife to her very own hero. Victoria attended Queen's University and graduated with a degree in English Literature. She then earned a degree in Interior Design. After the birth of her first child she began pursuing her life-long passion of writing. Her dream of being a published romance author was realized by Entangled in 2012. Victoria is living her dream-staying home with her children and conjuring up happy endings for her characters. Victoria would love to hear from her readers! You can visit her at www.victoriajames.ca or Twitter @vicjames101 or send her an email at [e-mail].

Victoria James is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance.

Victoria always knew she wanted to be a writer and in grade five, she penned her first story, bound it (with staples and a cardboard cover) and did all the illustrations herself. Luckily, this book will never see the light of day again.

In high school she fell in love with historical romance and then contemporary romance. After graduating University with an English Literature degree, Victoria pursued a degree in Interior Design and then opened her own business. After her first child, Victoria knew it was time to fulfill her dream of writing romantic fiction.

Victoria is a hopeless romantic who is living her dream, penning happily-ever-after's for her characters in between managing kids and the family business. Writing on a laptop in the middle of the country in a rambling old Victorian house would be ideal, but she's quite content living in suburbia with her husband, their two young children, and very bad cat.

Read an Excerpt

The Doctor's Fake Fiancee

A Red River Novel

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By Victoria James, Tracy Montoya, Alethea Spiridon Hopson

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2014 Victoria James
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63375-114-9

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CHAPTER 1

Dr. Evan Manning hung up the phone and cursed loudly inside his empty office. There was no way around it: if he wanted to restore his position at the top, he needed to find a wife. Or fiancée. By next week.

But first he was going to have to deal with a full day of patients. He scowled at his computer screen and fought the urge to jam his fist in his mouth. His eyes glazed over as he read the roster of upcoming appointments:

9:00 a.m. — Eunice Jacobs: Toe fungus 9:20 a.m. — Crystal Boon: Warts 9:40 a.m. — Jeremy Morris: Hemorrhoids

He stopped reading and dragged his hands down his face with a loud groan. There was precisely one month left of this monotony. These were the kind of medical issues he'd never had to deal with in the ER. There was no adrenaline rush in prescribing hemorrhoid cream and more fiber. When his mentor, the doctor that he'd admired as a child and had stayed in close contact with professionally and personally, had suffered a mild heart attack and had asked Evan to fill in for him for a month to six weeks, Evan had readily agreed. The timing had been ideal, really. He was about to make a major career move, and the dead-crawl pace in Red River would give him the extra time to ensure he got what he was after.

But small-town, family practice was definitely not what he'd expected: it was much worse. People in Red River were all about long conversations and getting into everyone else's business.

A short, quick rap on the door reminded him that he was a professional, and small-town horror or not, he had a job to do. He composed himself and swiveled on the worn chair to look at Sheila, the receptionist standing in the doorway. Her tightly curled gray hair seemed to stand on end as she frowned at him. He attempted a smile, but her glower only deepened. He took a deep breath and pretended he was a patient man.

"Dr. Manning, this is my official notice of resignation," she announced with a huff, walking forward and slapping a letter on his desk. He tore his gaze away from her angry face to the envelope on his desk. He had been here less than a week, and the receptionist of almost thirty-five years was quitting.

"Sheila, you can't resign — "

"I can, and I will. You may be easy on the eyes, young man, but I'm past the age where my hormones will respond to those baby blues of yours. In all my years working with Dr. Chalmers, I have never been so patronized or overworked — "

"I didn't patronize you. I know you're an invaluable part of this practice. As for being overworked, I'm sorry, but I just noticed that there were many files and systems that needed updating. I thought it would be nice to get this place up to speed before Dr. Chalmers returns from his sick leave." Actually he thought the way this entire place was run was archaic and without any kind of discipline. Judging by her herculean stance, she wasn't in the mood to be criticized.

"Well, I do not appreciate working under a dictator. Maybe this kind of thing is acceptable in the city where you're barking out orders in the ER, but this is Red River. Here we take the time to say good morning and ask about your family and talk about the weather. I will remind you, Evan Manning, that I knew you when you were running around in diapers, trying to keep up with those older brothers of yours." She paused for a moment, and he sincerely hoped it was the end of her tirade. But then she puffed up her chest, and he braced himself. "You were much sweeter then."

For chrissakes. The constant reminders that everyone knew him when he was a child drove him nuts. He'd been back for all of one week, and he was ready to enter the witness protection program to ensure no one would ever find him again. Her voice screeched on, and he glanced over at his computer display, wondering if there was a way he could switch the screens and get to his email account without Sheila noticing. He nodded seriously at her, when he heard the words "settle down," and slowly placed his hand on the mouse, his eyes not leaving hers. And then she swatted him with a medical file.

"Are you even listening to me? This is what I'm talking about — I refuse to work for a person who can't even be bothered to make eye contact with me."

He looked at her, squarely. "I have been listening to you."

Her eyes narrowed to little blue slits, and he braced himself for another unsolicited opinion. "Do you know what's wrong with you, Evan Manning?"

Sheila seemed to think that because she and his mother had been friends, and that she'd seen him in diapers, she was qualified to give him life advice. He stretched his legs out in front of him, forcing his muscles to relax and his mind to numb. "Please tell me, Sheila. What's wrong with me?"

"You need a wife. A family."

Exactly right. Had she been eavesdropping on his phone conversation? When his Good Samaritan stint in Red River was over, he would hopefully be on his way to running North America's most exclusive plastic-surgery clinics. All he needed in order to seal the deal was to convince the head of Medcorp that Evan Manning was a family man, the ideal choice to oversee the network of clinics for the wealthy, family-owned company. Then his career would be back on track. Sure, his surgery days were over after the accident, but he'd be at the top again. And that was the most important thing.

You need to be the best. You are bigger than this small town. Don't disappoint us, Evan, not like Jake. Stay focused on your goals. Evan frowned. He hated when his father's voice popped into his head without warning. Especially since he now knew the truth about his father.

"Well," Sheila prodded, effectively drowning out his father's voice.

"Maybe you're right. So why don't you stay, point out my flaws, and then when the month is up, you can go on vacation? Just think, how will Dr. Chalmers feel when he returns to find that you've retired? I'm only here for four more weeks. He'll be recovered and back at work, and I'll be in Toronto — I'll be nothing but a memory to you."

"More like a nightmare," she said, her chest inflating like a rooster again. "I'm sorry, but I'm leaving. Life is too short to be wasted here. I've booked myself a Mediterranean cruise. I have left instructions and detailed notes on my desk for whatever poor, unsuspecting receptionist you coerce into taking my place. So, as the Italians say, 'adios.'"

Evan rubbed the back of his neck, and flipped open the file. "Actually, it's 'ciao' or 'arrivederci.'"

"Excuse me?"

He flipped through the file and nodded. "The Spanish say 'adios.' The Italians say, 'ciao' or 'arrivederci.'"

Sheila let out a choked sound and then whirled on her beige, rubber-soled shoes and marched out of the small office.

Dammit. So now, he needed a receptionist, a wife, and a freaking prescription for high-blood-pressure medication.

Five minutes later, Mrs. Jacob's high-pitched squeal rattled the silence of the small office. Good God. This was going from bad to catastrophic. Evidently, Sheila hadn't bothered to lock the door behind her. He was going to have to get through this day without a receptionist.

He pulled out Mrs. Jacobs's chart as her heavy footsteps approached at a rapid, ominous pace and stood, the sudden movement causing his swivel chair to glide across the spotless linoleum floor and bang into the examination table. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable onslaught of nonsensical questions from the elderly woman. He opened the door, ready to face the most eccentric patient of the day, only to have her barrel though the door like a bushel of apples.

"Dr. Evan," Mrs. Jacobs huffed, lunging forward and forcing him to back up a step. Eunice Jacobs was probably the only person in Red River who called him Dr. Evan instead of Dr. Manning —and the only person to wear a raincoat in sunny weather.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jacobs." He took another cautionary step backward, needing a healthy dose of space between him and the woman who smelled like rancid garlic. He forced himself to look down at her foot, which she had raised from the ground and was dangling in the air. He stifled his need to curse and grabbed her arm to steady her as she seemed precariously close to losing her balance. Her pink, sparkling sandals were looking more stuffed than a turkey on Thanksgiving.

"I jammed some disinfectant around the nail, added fresh garlic, and wrapped it in gauze. But you need to fix it so that I'll fit into my stilettos for my wedding next Saturday."

He bit down on his tongue so hard he worried he cut it. He had no idea how this woman thought she'd ever get those wide feet of hers crammed into stilettos.

"And where is dear old Sheila?" she continued. "I had much to discuss with her this morning!"

Evan cleared his throat. "It seems she planned a vacation and decided it was time to retire." He coughed. "Today."

Mrs. Jacobs frowned. "That doesn't sound like Sheila. And she had confirmed she was coming to the wedding. Hmph." Mrs. Jacobs plunked herself down on a chair with a massive sigh. "Now I do have to apologize in advance that I won't be able to stay and have a little chat. Lots to do these days; it's wedding time!"

Jeez. This was small-town family practice. Chats? There were no chats with the doctor. No wonder Chalmers could never keep to the ten-minute appointment slot Evan had tried pressing Sheila to convert to. No, Chalmers had people booked in twenty-minute slots. Twenty minutes with Eunice Jacobs would make him retire early.

He tried to concentrate on the examination of her foot, but his mind was on his current issues. He needed a receptionist. Today.

Tomorrow he could worry about finding a wife.

* * *

Grace pulled the key out of her car ignition, and the engine sputtered and coughed until it was completely silent. She said a silent prayer that it would actually start up again and get them home to Toronto. This car was on its last leg, and she knew for certain that she would soon be relying on public transit. Which might be for the best considering the cost of gas these days.

She glanced in her rearview mirror at Christopher, who was still asleep. The three-hour car ride from Toronto to Red River had been filled with nonstop questions, complaints, and one washroom stop. She was partly to blame, because they could have arrived a lot quicker if she'd taken the highway. But she hadn't been on one since the accident. Instead she'd mapped out a route comprised only of country back roads. It had been picturesque — for the first hour. Then the farms and cows and sprawling countryside had lost their appeal to her four-year-old son.

She leaned to one side and peered through the passenger window at the little white house. It was on a tree-lined side street, downtown Red River. At one time it must have been someone's home and then converted into an office. There was a white, painted wooden sign perched in an immaculately kept garden bed on the front lawn that read Dr. Chalmers Family Practice.

Grace drew a long, unsteady breath and then glanced at the Spider-Man notepad sitting beside her on the passenger seat. She opened it and flipped through the pages until she reached today's to-do list. To-Do lists were "her thing." She made one for every single day, no matter how big or small the day's events were going to be. Sometimes she added even the tiniest items so she'd feel more accomplished. To-Do lists made her think of her mother — Grace remembered her mother making one every day. A single mom's necessity, she'd say under her breath.

Grace dug through her crappy bag that was on the brink of self-destruction and felt around for a pen. The only thing she could find was an orange crayon. Good enough.

She studied the remaining items on today's list:

Drive to Red River
Meet Dr. Manning (don't act like an idiot)
Give Dr. Manning present (don't forget Christopher's gift)
Thank Dr. Manning profusely
Drive home
Job Interview (don't screw it up)

She crossed out the first item on her list with the crayon. Then she clenched it in her sweaty palm and took a deep breath. This is where she would find Dr. Evan Manning. He was the man who'd saved her and Christopher. It had taken her over a year to track him down, and last week, by some stroke of luck, she'd stumbled across information about him. She'd been at the emergency room in Toronto General, because Chris had sprouted a high fever in the middle of the night and she'd rushed him to the hospital. The doctor who'd treated him for a double ear infection was asking about the scars on his body, and she ended up telling him about the car accident and the mystery man who'd saved them. As luck would have it, the doctor was a colleague of Evan Manning and knew all about Dr. Manning's heroics that day. The doctor told her Manning was temporarily working in his hometown of Red River.

Grace had seen the conversation as a sign. She needed to thank the man who had saved their lives. She baked a batch of their favorite cranberry muffins and wrapped them up in cellophane with a big red ribbon. And Christopher had spent an entire hour drawing his hero a picture.

"Chris," she whispered, turning in her seat to look at her son. He stirred slightly, his dark hair rumpled. She smiled at the sight of him, his faded Spider-Man shirt hugging his thin frame. He'd insisted on wearing it, explaining his logic that he should wear a superhero, since Evan Manning was one. "Come on, honey, time to wake up; we're here."

She turned to the front and collected her keys, dragging her hands down her face as she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. If Ronald McDonald had an older, crazier-looking, dark-haired sister, she'd be her. Except Grace probably looked even worse, because she didn't have the access to that kind of heavy makeup.

She attempted to smooth down her curly hair but, when that didn't work, frantically searched her purse for something to tie it back with. She chewed her lower lip as she held a Spider-Man shoelace in between her fingers. It could work. No one would notice if she wrapped it tightly. Working quickly, she finger-combed her curly hair into a high ponytail. And then frowned at her reflection. Well, whatever. Good enough. It's not like she was here to pick up Evan Manning and impress him with her looks ... or lack of. She was here to thank the man. Profusely. He'd saved the most important person in the world to her. Her concern over her pathetic appearance seemed trivial in comparison to the real issues they faced.

Christopher yawned loudly. "Where's Dr. Nevan?"

"Dr. Evan. I think he's inside. Ready to go?"

Her son stretched and then bopped his head up and down quickly. "I've never met a real live superhero."

Grace stifled her groan as she opened her door. The superhero fixation was reaching new heights and showed no signs of slowing down. She helped Christopher out of the car, and they held hands as they walked up the flagstone path to the front porch.

The small waiting room was empty when they entered. Grace frowned as they stood in the doorway. It was odd for a doctor's office to be so quiet. The practice she'd worked at for years had always been bustling, and phones were always ringing — even when it was closed. Maybe this was what small-town family practice was like. The cellophane crinkled as she balanced the plate of muffins on her hip and walked toward a French door that separated the waiting room from what must be the examination rooms. She winced at the loud creaking of the old door but walked through anyway.

They could hear a man's deep voice speaking, filling the otherwise-quiet space. She stopped hesitantly outside the first room, Chris bumping into her. Seconds later, the man said good-bye and hung up the phone. Her heart hammered incessantly as she waited for him to turn around. When he didn't, she cleared her throat and knocked on the door.

The man turned in his chair and slowly stood. He must recognize her.

Her mouth went dry as she stared into his striking blue eyes. Everything was arresting about the man. Perfectly chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and a mouth that was somewhere between sensual and severe. A few strands of gray visible amidst his thick, dark hair. She noticed the outline of the broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist and long, lean legs.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Doctor's Fake Fiancee by Victoria James, Tracy Montoya, Alethea Spiridon Hopson. Copyright © 2014 Victoria James. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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