“Another brilliantly written winner. Do yourself a favor
and pick this one up, you will not regret it.” —Kate Stewart, USA Today bestselling author
Perfectly Adequate, an all-new
must-read romantic comedy from
Jewel E. Ann, is available now!
Dr. Elijah Hawkins needs … something.
After his wife jumps headfirst into a
midlife crisis, he’s left with his young son, Roman, and a lot of unanswered
questions.
That something turns out to be a
someone—Dorothy Mayhem, nursing student, patient transporter, reckless driver,
and emu owner.
Dorothy studies humans, the
neurotypical kind, through books and television. Then she emulates their
behavioral patterns to fit in with her peers.
But nothing can prepare her for Dr.
Elijah Hawkins.
Single dad.
Brilliant pediatric oncologist.
And the sexiest doctor at the
hospital.
When his failed attempts at asking
her out turn into a string of playdates with his son, Dorothy finds herself
unexpectedly enamored with the boy and his father.
And that’s a problem, a huge one,
because Elijah’s ex-wife is a famous plastic surgeon—and Dorothy’s idol.
Perfectly Adequate is a beautiful,
hilarious, and heart-felt journey along the “human” spectrum.
Download your copy today or read FREE in
Kindle Unlimited!
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Excerpt
“You can call me Eli.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t actually
think I can.”
“Why not?” I force my gaze away from
her mouth.
The second our eyes meet, she averts
her attention to her feet. “Because you’re half of the Hathaway-Hawkins duo.”
This is a new one to me. “I’m
divorced.”
“I know. I …” She makes an attempt
to look at me, but her attention shifts to my temple then maybe my ear. “I mean
you’re a brilliant doctor, and Dr. Hathaway is too—so brilliant. God, she’s
just phenomenal. Like there are no words. But still … you change the lives of
young children. You save them. You’re what every young person entering the
medical field can only dream of becoming. You’ve earned the title. I can’t call
you by your name. It’s too personal. I don’t know … almost intimate.”
She has Julie on a really high
pedestal. Me? Down a few pegs. Sounds about right for my life at the moment.
It’s not that Julie doesn’t deserve to be on the pedestal. No matter how much I
hate her, I still love her. And her skills as a pediatric plastic surgeon are
unmatched. She deserves Dorothy’s admiration.
But I don’t want to talk about
medicine, accolades, and saving lives. I know … I know … how terrible of me.
Sorry, but I need something for myself. Something personal and maybe a little
selfish.
Definitely intimate.
“I don’t need a babysitter for
Roman.”
She jerks her head back, giving me
her full attention, eyes squinted, gaze locked to mine. “What?”
I trap my top lip between my teeth,
drowning in coconuts as my heart races, sending ample blood to all regions of
my body. God … I just want—need—to kiss her.
“Oh jeez …” She shakes her head,
closing her eyes for a breath. “You invited me to dinner to … flirt.” Her eyes
open to their widest point.
A tiny laugh escapes me. I can’t
help it. Everything about this woman feels like a rebirth. “I invited you to
dinner because Roman really likes you. And I just can’t thank you enough for
all that you’ve done for him. You’re so generous.”
Gah! I suck at this!
What is my problem? Yes. The answer
is yes! Yes, Dorothy, I invited you over
to flirt, maybe even kiss. And other things …
“Oh.” She takes a step backward,
stumbling a bit as the front door catches her, and more embarrassment tints her
cheeks. “Well, now I feel stupid. Yes, of course you invited me here because
Roman likes me. Duh. Now I just look like an idiot for assuming you wanted to
flirt with me. And really, no need to thank me. My generosity is selfish. It
makes me feel good to do nice things. That’s all. And really, you’ve bought me
coffee and made me dinner again. It’s like I should be thanking you again. But
that’s probably weird. So … I’ll just go now.”
Really, really weird shit goes through my mind as she fidgets. Dr. Hawkins
is nowhere to be found. Neither is Roman’s dad. Raging-puberty-hormones Eli
Hawkins invades my head—both of them really. And I just want to kiss Dorothy.
That’s the PG version of my thoughts. Most of them are R-rated. Worse than the
R-rating. All I can think about are
the ways Dorothy and I can be generous with each other, leading to never-ending
thank-you’s that don't involve stationary, replacement scrubs, superhero capes,
pasta dinners, lunch boxes … or clothing.
“Should we call it even? No more thank-you’s,”
I suggest.
“Okay.” She lifts her gaze, eyes
going a little cross-eyed like her focus is centered on the bridge of my nose.
“Okay.” I release a slow breath, but
it does very little to relax all of
my body. “Can I ask your age?” I’m not sure why I’ve been so chicken about
asking her age. I think it worries me that she’s too young, and I’ll feel like
a dirty old man having really inappropriate thoughts about her.
“I’m thirty. Why?”
“You just look young.”
“I wear massive amounts of
sunscreen.”
I nod slowly.
Just kiss her, you big chicken!
What if she doesn’t want to be
kissed by me? Or flirt with me? I internally laugh at the memory of her comment
and at myself for being just as awkward. Why does something so simple have to
be so complicated?
“I have a forty-five-minute drive
home.”
And school the next day. Where is my
head?
Oh, that’s right …
“Of course. I’m sorry. I lost track
of time.”
“Okay.” She smiles.
I love her okay’s. They feel like
more than the average okay.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Have you not closed all of your
rings?” She holds up her wrist, signaling to her watch.
I chuckle. “All rings were closed
hours ago.”
“We could track each other. Share
our rings. Did you know that?”
Rings. Kisses. Trips to the on-call room for sex.
For the love of God … get your shit together, Elijah!
“Never mind. That’s weird.” She
shakes her head, rolling her eyes at herself just before opening the door and
scurrying ten steps ahead of me. Her pace gains momentum with the hill of my
driveway.
My long strides catch up to her at
the bottom of it. She looks both ways and bolts across the street to her car,
clicks the locks, and opens her door.
“Goodnight!”
“Dorothy Mayhem … you’re killing
me.”
She turns just before ducking into
the driver’s seat.
“What do you mean?”
Resting my hands on my hips, I drop
my chin in defeat and stare at my untied gray canvas shoes. “What if I did ask
you to dinner tonight to … flirt?” I glance up, digging my teeth into my bottom
lip on a slight cringe.
Her body remains stoic as her eyes
shift from side to side, like she’s been caught on a hidden camera. “Well …
then I wore the wrong outfit.” She refuses to look me in the eye.
“I think you look amazing.”
“Yes. But this is a playdate outfit.
Maybe even one I’d wear to apply for a babysitter position. It’s fun, but
wholesome. Practical and safe.”
I just want to spend one day in her
head. Everything about her fascinates the hell out of me. The curiosity gives
me such a high.
“Tell me about your flirting
outfit.”
“Well …” She clears her throat,
keeping her focus on the big hill leading out of my development. And of course
… her cheeks are perfectly flushed as she talks to the wind. “Since Romeo was
involved, I would have chosen my red dress with white stripes. It hits just
below my knees, but it’s strapless. And I would have worn my blue cardigan with
it and matching blue wedge sandals with straps that tie around my ankles.
Flirty … but appropriate for young eyes.”
“And if Roman wouldn’t have been
here tonight?” I stare at the side of
her head, wondering if she’ll look at me again before driving home.
She narrows her eyes. “I would have
taken off the cardigan after you invited me into your house.”
The picture she paints in my head
does all kinds of wicked things to me. Why imagining her in a striped strapless
dress has such a physical effect on me is a mystery. It’s not like she
suggested showing up wearing nothing but high heels and a trench coat. Dorothy
Mayhem possesses her own brand of seduction, and I’m completely entangled in
every part of it.
“And in this scenario, would you
have kissed me after I walked you to your car?”
She turns completely red. I feel certain even her toes hidden in those blue
shoes have to be red. “You’re making fun of me.”
Her comment knocks me back a good
ten steps, even if my body remains right next to her. Why would she say that?
About Jewel
Jewel is a free-spirited romance
junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing lectures
under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to
stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of nearly 30
years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was
hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she
decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her cape and
saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food
with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother
reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.
Connect with
Jewel
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JewelE_Ann
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorjeweleann/
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