Hot Response: Medical Lesbian Romance (Signed Paperback)

Pages : 94
ISBN : 9614622000167 (BookVault)
Weight : 104g
Dimensions : 127 x 6 x 203 mm

Sam O'Shea knows two things for certain: she's great at her new job as an EMT, and her soccer coach Chrissie Woods is impossible to please. When Sam finds out Chrissie is also her new paramedic supervisor, it feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke.
Chrissie sees so much potential in Sam, if only the hot-headed former lawyer would stop arguing long enough to listen. But something about Sam's defiant attitude gets under her skin in ways she can't explain - or ignore.
After one heated argument erupts into an explosive encounter in the locker room, their relationship changes forever. Now they're forced to navigate their intense attraction while dealing with life-or-death emergencies and fighting for the state soccer championship. Neither woman can deny their chemistry, but with Chrissie still healing from her ex's betrayal and Sam battling demons from her past, timing couldn't be worse.
As they race between emergency calls and soccer practices, Sam and Chrissie must decide if what's building between them is worth risking their careers, their team's shot at glory, and most importantly—their hearts.

- Age Gap
- Enemies to Lovers
- Medical Romance
- Workplace Romance
- Power Dynamic
- Slow Burn
- Spicy/Steamy

"Mom? Mom, can you hear me? Mom, please. Mom!"
Sam jerked awake with a strangled cry, her hands reaching out for the ghost of a woman who wasn't there---a woman who hadn't been there for years. For a few seconds, she struggled to breathe, just like she always did when she woke from a nightmare about the crash, and then she remembered where she was.
It was five years on. She was in bed, in her apartment, and it was dark because it was three a.m., not because she was upside down on a snowy embankment. That pain across her chest where the seatbelt was cutting into her skin wasn't real, and the harsh smell of gasoline that burned her nose was just a phantom.
She sank back against the pillows shakily, counting down from ten. It was a tactic her therapist had taught her in the months after the accident. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but it was always worth a try.
"Ten."
She was at home, in bed...
"Nine."
The desperation in her voice as she cried out for her mother was fading now, getting quieter...
"Eight."
Her voice was growing stronger; it had lost that shaky quality that betrayed her nerves.
"Seven. Six."
Her breathing was steadier now.
"Five."
The smell of gasoline got weaker, replaced by the lavender diffuser in the corner of her room. She kept counting, all the way down to one, and when she was finished, she felt her muscles relax a little. For a few moments, she lay in the darkness staring at the ceiling before allowing exhaustion to take over, dragging her into a dreamless sleep for the few remaining hours before her alarm was set to awaken her.
***
As she waited for her first coffee of the morning to brew, Sam leaned against the kitchen counter, staring off into space as she thought about the nightmare that had woken her the night before.
It wasn't often she had nightmares anymore. The year after the crash had been the worst—she'd woken up almost every night screaming for her mother until her throat was raw, desperately scrabbling at the air in front of her as she tried to cling onto a woman who was long gone. But after a while it got a little easier to deal with the loss. It always did, in the end. The pain got just a little less agonizing; the grief was just a little less overwhelming, and the nightmares grew more infrequent.
As she poured her coffee, Sam wondered what had set her off, before remembering the patient she'd dealt with the day before. She was a young girl, couldn't have been much older than eighteen, and she'd lost control of her car as she made her way home. She'd taken a turn too quickly, flown off the road, and wrapped herself around a lamppost.
The car was a mangled wreck when they'd arrived, but she was alive. Sam couldn't help but wince as she remembered the terror in the young girl's face when she'd looked up at the EMTs. She wondered if that was how she'd looked all those years ago. Young, terrified, not sure if she was dead or alive.
That familiar sick feeling swirled in her stomach, but Sam pushed it down as she sipped her coffee, huffing out a breath through her nose. The girl was okay, except for the broken bones and bruises. That was what mattered, that was what she had to focus on.
With a low groan, Sam stretched out her aching muscles slowly. At least she didn't have to work today. There was no risk of accidentally stumbling on a job that would trigger another nightmare. All she had was soccer practice in a few hours.