Novels About Doctors

After I was falsely accused of being a third wheel by a fake heiress, she hired a group of people to corner me in the delivery room under the pretense of giving me an intervention. "How dare you, a shameless mistress, hope to secure a place with your child!" "Today, I'm going to make sure that b*stard in your belly is gone for good. Let's see if you dare get into my man's bed again." The group blocked the delivery room door, their faces twisted with malice as they refused to let the doctors deliver my baby. I begged them to let me go, but they only laughed cruelly and forced me down in front of a camera while I struggled through labor. They forcefully pulled the baby out of my belly and killed him right in front of me. I clung to my child's lifeless body, sobbing hysterically, while they posted my miserable state online with the caption, 'This is what happens to mistresses.' Later, I exposed her fake heiress status and revealed the dirty secrets of her and those people who were allegedly giving me an intervention online. Relentlessly attacked by netizens until she had nowhere left to turn, she ended up begging me for forgiveness. I pointed to the edge of the rooftop and said, "Jump, and I'll forgive you."

The day after my best friend, Sarah Blunt married Patrick, the second son of the Brosnan family, I too became a bride and wed Matthew, his older brother. She married a swimming champion, and I, the rock-climbing coach. We thought we had our futures all figured out. Then, something happened that summer. The four of us planned a getaway but Matthew and Patrick’s baby sister, Megan joined us and our peaceful trip became a crowded affair.  While rock climbing, disaster struck—the rope snapped, and all five of us plummeted into the river below. The brothers rushed frantically to save Megan, leaving Sarah and me at the mercy of the river’s current, battered and tossed like driftwood. By the time the rescue team pulled us from the water, we were bruised, scraped, and utterly spent. In the hospital, Megan and I received devastating news that would change everything.  “You’ve been pregnant for 40 days, Ma’am. How could you put yourself in such a risky situation? Your baby survived, but your friend lost hers.” Shaken, I called Matthew to tell him about the pregnancy. His anger cut through the line. “You’re angry that I went to Megs first and now you’re trying to fool me with a fake pregnancy? She’s my sister—it’s my duty to protect her!” Sarah faced her own storm. Patrick practically scoffed at her grief. “Miscarriage? Do you expect me to believe that? The doctors said you only had a 30% chance of conceiving. I can’t stand women who create drama out of nothing.” Both calls ended abruptly, leaving us stunned as we stared at each other in the sterile light of the hospital room. In that shared silence, we made our decision—we would leave these men behind and start anew, launching a business together. But when the brothers received our divorce papers, they showed up at my door in the middle of a storm, kneeling in the pouring rain, crying through the night for a second chance.

Christmas magic is in the air at the Santa Clause Ball! Will it lead to love? Growing up in a town called Mistletoe Mountain, it's no wonder I love Christmas. My parents named me appropriately, too. You can't get much more Christmas-y than Holly Lane Garland! This Christmas is going to be even more magical than usual--I can just feel it! At the annual Santa Claus Ball, I meet an amazing man who makes my heart play "Jingle Bells." There's just one problem--well, maybe two. I have no idea what his name is--or what he looks like. (Did I mention the Santa Claus Ball is a masquerade?) Searching for my perfect man leads me to make a new friend. Patrick is amazing, and we have so much in common. He loves Christmas, too. But I think he has a girlfriend. And, well, he's just not the guy who kissed me under the mistletoe. Or is he? Will I find love before Santa arrives, or will I lose my chance at mistletoe magic? If you like sweet, clean Christmas romance novels that get you in the mood for the holidays, you won't want to miss this new romance from the author of Melody's Christmas, Christmas Cocoa, and All I Want for Christmas is Pooch!

"You are mine." He growled across my skin and burrowed his face at the base of my neck. I held my breath in fear when I heard the animalistic sound he made. I gasped as he pulled me into his arms. He was strong but also gentle, and his touch sent tingles down my spine. I gulped hard as I felt his lips grazing a soft spot on my neck. I could hardly breathe at this point. Please", he murmured, his lips close to my ear, his breath warm. "Don't leave me." I almost moaned out loud as he nipped on my right ear lope. Amelia Allen always dreamed of becoming a historian like her mother. After another death of her loved ones, Amelia moves to a small town to seek the comfort it had to offer and busy herself in her next project, to find the town's history. Everything is not what it seems and soon, Amelia finds herself in the middle of a world she did not even know existed outside of fictional novels and movies. Not only does the town hold some historical secrets, but several creatures of the night appear, craving her blood and her heart as her senses heighten. Throw in a cold-hearted, sexy, possessive Lycan King who claims she is his destined mate, her life seamlessly goes haywire.

“Please... Take care of my people...”-Lancelot Ral Constance- Sakamaki Yuu is a gay, middle-aged, disabled man. His vices are what makes him shy away from society, yet he harboured hope for a change in his life. It didn’t get any better. Receiving a report on his deteriorating health makes it feel like the entire world is falling on him. Rather than hoping for a change, he now hoped that he could at least leave a trace on this world, which was what caused him to insist becoming the donor for her nephew. A heart donor, which guarantees absolute death. Yet at the very least, his heart would live well inside her. It’s okay if his heart is the only trace that he left. That’s what should happen. Yet by the time he opened his eyes, he realized that he was reincarnated as one of the mobs that supports the villainess in one of the web novels that he had read, namely Lancelot Ral Constance. Not only that, his character is destined to die in a month by the crown prince’s hand. That being said, how donating his heart has to do anything with him waking up as a completely different person? And what’s with these people calling him a noble? And what’s with this need to appeal his knowledge to help the townsfolk? And why the crown prince is handsome damnit! [Uploading cadence: Every Sunday]

Isla Adelaide Austria – isang kilalang manunulat. Ngunit malaki ang posibilidad na matanggal siya sa trabaho sa kadahilanang naalis siya sa pwesto bilang top-grossing author hanggang sa tuluyang hindi na bumenta ang kan'yang mga storya. Ang manunulat na katunggali niya ay magaling magsulat ng mga romantic novels na may kalakip na mature contents at iyan ang kahinaan niya dahil sa edad na 22, wala pa siyang karanasan sa mga gan'yan. At sa 'di inaasahang pagkakataon, makikilala niya si Ezra Hudson – gwapo, malakas ang appeal, at higit sa lahat eksperto na sa gan'yang usapan ngunit siya ay isang broken hearted. Dahil dito, magkakaroon sila ng deal, magpapanggap siya bilang girlfriend ni Ezra at ang kapalit noon ay bibigyan siya nito ng mga impormasyon at ideya upang makapagsulat siya ng mature contents. Pero paano kung ang akala niyang simpleng deal ay siya pala ang magdadala ng gulo sa buhay niya? Paano kung dahil sa isang deal na 'to ay tuluyan siyang mahulog sa binata? At paano kung dahil din sa deal na 'yan, may mabuong bata sa kan'yang sinapupunan? Paano na ang magiging buhay ng ating virgin writer?

Damien and his ex-wife got divorced five years ago, and then he married me. When I married him, he had a 13-year-old adopted daughter named Lily. After our marriage, Damien treated me exceptionally well and I always treated Lily like my own daughter, even when she occasionally showed hostility towards me, I didn't mind. That's normal for a teenage girl. Until my father was accidentally hit by a car and left in a vegetative state, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Damien and his assistant. "Boss, I don't get it. Why block the craniotomy?" the assistant asked, sounding confused. "The doctors say there’s a high chance he could recover. Why are you insisting on conservative treatment?" "He can't wake up," Damien’s voice was suppressed with pain. "He saw Lily's face." I clamped my hand over my mouth, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. Lily is the adopted daughter of Damien and his late ex-wife, Sarah. Sarah died saving Damien, so he has always treated Lily with a mix of guilt and utter indulgence. Damien continued, his tone incredibly conflicted. " But Lily didn't do it on purpose! She is only thirteen... If she gets a criminal record, her life is over. Sarah’s only dying wish was for me to take care of Lily and see her grow up safe and sound. I can't give up on her." The assistant fell silent for a few seconds. "And what about your wife?" "I’ll make it up to her," Damien’s voice softened. "I’ll provide her with the most prosperous life, and secure the largest private ward along with the best caregivers for her father who’s suffered from the car accident. I don’t care how much it costs." My heart sank completely. Just because you feel guilty towards Sarah and Lily, you're going to sacrifice my father? With trembling hands, I saved the recording and had my lawyer prepare the divorce papers. But when I completely disappeared, the once powerful CEO went mad.

My girlfriend Chloe Bennett's childhood buddy, Daniel Miller, binds himself to a transfer system. Everything he eats gets sent straight into my stomach. He creates a live stream channel and eats nonstop for 12 hours a day to rake in money. Meanwhile, I end up in the ER with acute pancreatitis. I try to explain everything to Chloe, but she just looks at me like I've lost my mind. "How could something that ridiculous exist? If food could magically transfer, nobody would starve in the world. You're just jealous he's making money from streaming." Afterward, Daniel's every live stream triggers another pancreatitis episode, sending me back to the ER until I'm barely holding on. I get tested, but the doctors can't figure out what's wrong. They even want to admit me to psych. Later, in a desperate bid to outdo another streamer, Daniel downs ten pounds of mashed potatoes at once. The overload destroys my spleen and stomach, causing massive internal bleeding that kills me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of Daniel's very first live stream. This time, I rush out and order 20 takeout dishes before him. "This time, I'm eating first."

I exercised too hard during the day and, by midnight, a sharp pain tore through my stomach. When I checked my pants, there was blood. I called my friend immediately and had him rush me to the hospital. The moment I finished explaining my symptoms, the doctor did not even pause to think before saying, "This is a potential miscarriage. We need to start treatment right away." My eyes went wide. I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me. Her gaze dripped with contempt. "I see dozens of patients every day. I know exactly what you women are like. Probably had abortion after abortion in school with zero self-respect. Now that you're getting older, you want to trap some nice guy into cleaning up your mess." I had never met such an unprofessional doctor in my life. Anger flared in my chest, and I threatened to report her on the spot. She barely blinked. "Touched a nerve, huh? I'm just trying to help you out here. Doctors have it so hard these days. Tell someone the truth and complaints are all you get." The whispers started around me. People staring, judging, pointing. I had truly had enough. Had it occurred to literally anyone that I might just be a guy with long hair?

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.