SKINNY PANTS (Book #3) Excerpt

Skinny Pants, a Contemporary Romance by New York Times bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

All RIGHTS RESERVED. Copyright 2018. Mimi Jean Pamfiloff


Why does that man think he’s God’s gift to women? Nurse Macie Franklin thought while staring at Dr. Chad Bollinger, who’d just come from exam room three and made a pit stop to flirt with one of the new nurses.

“He’s so scrumptiously tasty.” Kirsten sighed, standing a few feet away at Macie’s side in the nurses’ station. “Something about him makes me want to ovulate, bend over, and give up all my hopes and dreams just to wash his dirty underwear and make him coffee in the morning.”

His daytime-drama good looks made him nice eye candy, but he was as fake as they came and a complete manslut. He’d only been with them at Napa General, in the heart of California wine country, a little over six months, but he’d already slept with half the women.

Honestly, I just don’t get what they all see in him. Plus, he’d barely said three non-work-related words to Macie. No good mornings. No how are you todays.

“Sure. He’s kinda hot,” Macie muttered with a little shrug. “If you’re into tall, dark, and handsome doctors who think manwhoring is a sport.”

The Chadster, as they’d nicknamed him, strutted towards them—or toward Kirsten, to be exact. She was the kind of woman the Chadsters of the world liked to date—blonde, cute perky nose, and tight little body. Almost the exact opposite of Macie with her brown wavy hair, brown eyes, five-six height, and a rather generous ass. And boobs. A generous everything, really. She liked to think of herself as a woman with a lot to give. Once she found the right man, of course.

Don’t hold your breath, she thought, eyeing the Chadster and his despicably fake smile.

“Hey there, Kirsten. Havin’ a good one?” He winked, and Kirsten visibly melted.

“So, so good. Thank you, Dr. Bollinger,” Kirsten said sweetly, tucking a golden lock behind her ear.

“A bunch of us are getting together after work. Why don’t you come?” He lifted his dark brows in a sort of “Oh, I’m so handsome. Look at me!” facial pose.

“I’d love to.” Kirsten batted her eyelashes. “Macie, you’re free, right?”

“Huh?” Macie pulled herself out of her silent critique of the man’s hair. He used so much hairspray, it looked like brown plastic.

“Tonight. You’re coming too, right?” Kirsten said, trying to make it clear to the Chadster that the invitation needed to extend to both of them.

But he hadn’t invited Macie for one very good reason. She was completely invisible to the opposite sex and had been since her introduction to boys in kindergarten. Not long after that, she’d developed skin so thick, she began calling it her magic force field. Nothing got in or out.

Superhero in lavender kitty scrubs right here.

Fast-forward to adulthood, and Macie had made a great life for herself, which included a healthy self-esteem, a career she loved, and incredible friends. No boyfriend, though. It was something she’d learned to live without. Can’t have it all.

The Chadster glanced down at Macie. “Oh, Nurse Moo—I mean Franklin,” he said with a disgust-laced tone, “I’m sure you have plans already, but you’re welcome to join us.”

What the…? Macie’s force field flickered. Moo was a nickname used by her closest friends, Kirsten being one of them. He must’ve overheard Kirsten say it once or something. Either way, what sort of imbecile would invite himself to call her Moo in a professional setting and add that offensive tone? Like I’m lower than a cockroach wearing stained underwear.

Even Kirsten just stood there, half-horrified, half-awkward grimace.

“I’m speechless, Dr. Bollinger,” Macie said. “Truly speechless.”

“I know.” He chuckled pretentiously. “It’s not every day I’m this generous.”

Is he for fucking real? But the truth was, Macie had been dealing with assholes her entire life. Being overweight tended to bring the cream of the crop out of hiding. On the other hand, there was nothing worse than giving those sorts of people control over her happiness or self-worth, even if his comment really pissed her the hell off.

Macie smiled sweetly. “Thank you for that warm invitation, Dr. Bollinger, but I have plans with my vibrator—I’m sure your hookups can attest to how valuable that relationship can be.”

The Chadster sneered for a moment and then turned to Kirsten. “The Blue Iguana, six o’clock.” He headed down the hallway.

Kirsten’s mouth just sort of flapped for a moment while her gaze toggled between Dr. Bollinger’s back and Macie’s face.

“It’s okay, Kirsten. Don’t feel bad.” Macie sighed, shaking her head at the clipboard on the desk.

“But…but that was ruuude.”

“Rude is when someone knows better and still refuses to show respect or kindness. He doesn’t know any better.” For example, people didn’t go around disapproving of toddlers for eating with their hands or chimps for playing with their feces. The Chadster was a shallow heartless prick, and behaving poorly was simply what his species of man-pig did.

“No. That was rude,” Kirsten contradicted. “I’m not going tonight, and he’s officially banned from my sexy-time dreams.”

“Not necessary. Rub away.”

“Ewww. No.” Kirsten’s work phone beeped, and she looked at it. “Dammit. Mrs. Emerson just punched Rodrigo in the penis. Again.”

Rodrigo was one of the other nurses, and Mrs. Emerson was an eighty-nine-year-old woman with a very bad tic that manifested as a right hook.

“Ice packs were just restocked,” Macie said blandly as Kirsten took off toward exam room ten.

Suddenly, a moment that came along only once in a blue moon hit Macie and hit hard. Shame. Self-loathing. Whatever it was called, it felt like a dark cloud sweeping through her. She knew when these rare instances struck, it was best to let them flow like river water heading toward the ocean. The truth was, she didn’t hate herself. And once the sting of the Chadster’s blatant snub wore off, she would pick herself up by the bootstraps, brush off the dirt, and remind herself that she was a wonderful person.

“Macie!” Rodrigo called out, holding an ice pack to his nether region. He was a big Samoan-looking man with almond eyes, thick black hair, and deep olive skin. “There was an explosion at the brandy distillery. They need all available nurses and doctors in the ER.”

Oh no. “Okay. Can you sign me out on the staff board?” This wing of the hospital was only for adult medicine, which took care of the usual day-to-day nonurgent patients—colds, coughs, checkups, the usual. Their staffing board showed who was on duty, covering which doctors and exam rooms. The ER, downstairs, had its own board, but in cases like these, everyone had assigned areas. She had triage.

“Sure,” Rodrigo groaned. “Tell them I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Macie would’ve laughed at the mental image of little old Mrs. Emerson belting him in the nuts, but right now she had to prepare herself for the very worst.

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