Unchecked: A Steamy Love Triangle Medical Romance

Hello, my name is Stella, and I am addicted to terrible romantic decisions.
In fact, don't come closer. I might be contagious.

Dr. Stella Magi has never been one for half measures. Despite drinking her way through residency, she's sober now and a successful surgeon. Still, she has cravings for that high, and MetroGen is full of eligible bachelors who can meet her needs.

Juggling three guys is harder than she thought, and she's gonna have to narrow it down soon. Should she pick Marcus Doyle, the playboy of the ER, Alex Casserty, the sensitive and cerebral neurosurgeon, or Joel Glazier, her super macho friend with benefits?

Or she could just choose herself – right before all hell breaks lose.

WARNING - MetroGen Heat books are medical romantic suspense full of steam and personal and sexual self discovery for the female MC's. This book ends on a stunning cliffhanger and violates every romance rule you know. If this isn't not for you, keep scrolling. However, everyone else, I promise red-hot M/F sex as Dr. Stella tries out every flavor in the sexy doctor ice cream store.

Ortho was yelling at his residents again. This was going to be fun.

Stella had been on staff at MetroGen for about two months. Sometimes surgery was such a boys’ club. There was nothing more dudely or manly than orthopedic surgery. Between surgeons, they were called glorified plumbers or carpenters. It was hilarious because matching for a residency spot in ortho required the highest test scores and understanding of pathology. But once they started training, they got handed bone saws, the dosing chart for the antibiotic Ancef, and permission to forget everything else.

“Bone broke. Fix it.”
There were plenty of medical memes which suggested orthopods didn’t even know how to read.

“Residents, fucking SCRAM!” growled an authoritative voice from the scrub room of a nearby OR. Stella saw three ortho residents scatter like scared kittens ahead of one of the attendings. “If you do that again, I’m gonna staple your fucking hand to the patient!”

Stella tried to stifle her laughter with her non-existent sleeve. She opted to hide her face behind a post-op chart. She’d heard of Joel Alfred ‘Fred’ Glazier. Usually, she’d heard the residents referring to him as a ‘tyrant,’ ‘murderer,’ and ‘vampire.’ No one called him ‘Fred’ within his hearing. He was a tallish, tannish, bald, White guy nearing forty. Like most ortho guys, he’d been a pretty serious athlete and reportedly had the most colorful vocabulary of any attending in surgery.

Basically, an all-around asshole, according to his residents.

Personally, Stella didn’t mind. As long as he wasn’t an asshole to her. She could use somebody who positively oozed testosterone.

Stella had been sober four—FOUR—months now at this new job, but she was getting that restless itch. She needed a high of some kind. She kept munching on candy, which she should have known better as a dentist. Caffeine didn’t do it either.

There was a certain itch she could scratch with the right type of guy.

Maybe Glazier…
“You’d better run, ass-wipes!” Glazier wasn’t done calling after them. He threw an unopened box of gloves at them, hitting one in the back. He punched the counter near Stella.

“Did they commit one of the seven deadly sins?” she asked.

“Other than incurring my wrath? Is stupidity a deadly sin?” His gray eyes were still burning. He softened slightly when he realized he didn’t know who she was.

“No, I think it’s gluttony, sloth, pride, envy, greed, wrath, and, of course, the winner—lust,” Stella said, unabashedly checking him out. He was a few years older than her and had nice biceps. It was possible he had ripped his scrub sleeves off to show off those guns. He had a bold black tattoo on the left one.

“Now that is a good sin. They aren’t my type, so I’ll stick with wrath to bash actual learning into these stupid residents.” Glazier equally made no attempts to hide his examination of her with growing interest.

“So what exactly did they do? Forget how to count?”

“My dumb-ass intern put his hand in the surgical field while a resident was using the bovie.” Stella flinched at his words. The bovie was the heated instrument a surgeon used to cauterize blood vessels and tissue. “Since neither of those cocksuckers were paying attention, the intern got his hand fried. It’s the fucking OR. They should know how to get through a single case without almost setting themselves on fire.”

“I like the yelling. Very macho,” Stella told him.

“Sometimes you’ve got to be the sledgehammer and pound these residents flat before you can reshape them.” Now that he was close, she realized that he was actually gigantically tall compared to her five foot one. He had to be about six-five, with massive hands to match, though he was built to run, not tackle things.

Stella flexed her fingers. Her small hands were perfect for the minuscule adjustments needed for the delicate nerves of the face. “See, I go for more of the fake-gentle approach of psychological flaying. Ask them uncomfortable questions in the middle of a high focus procedure.”

“I don’t think my guys would recognize gentle if it slapped them.” Glazier’s gaze traveled up and down her body before settling on her ID.

“I don’t think that counts as gentle. You’re not known as a guy with a light touch. Rumor is, you don’t even know what that is.” She winked and licked her lips.

He raised an eyebrow, charcoal grey too, despite his lack of hair on top. “In my experience, you can go both gentle and hard depending on which one you need.”

“Really? And which do you think you’re in the mood for this morning?”

He modulated his tone to a deep purr. “I feel like I should be able to do both deadly sins at the same time. How about wrath and lust?”

“I see. Married?” Stella had decided New-Stella needed to have at least a minimum standard.

“Nope. You?”

“Christ, no. Kids?” Stella wasn’t sure if the sober New-Stella viewed men with kids as a deal-breaker. She’d never thought far enough ahead for it to matter.

“Divorced over a decade ago. My two boys are pushing eighteen,” he told her.

“That isn’t a boy anymore. That’s a man.” Stella was pretty sure high schoolers were too much of a Mrs. Robinson vibe for New-Stella. Having a standard was a starting point at least.

“You’re not a man until you know how to be a man.” He tilted his head at her. “I have another hour before my next case. And I have a very nice office.”

“What a coincidence! I have an hour until my next case too. And my new office is very nice.” Her excitement was building. Drunk Old-Stella had enjoyed dirty, inappropriate sex with ineligible men. New-Stella seemed into inappropriate sex too, but it sounded like he was eligible.

“I’m the division head, so mine is bigger. It has a leather couch. Butter soft.”

Stella couldn’t help squeezing her legs together with quite a bit of the seventh deadly sin. He might have been a smidgen older than her usual type, but New-Stella must be attracted to men who were mean and owned their testosterone.

“I bet you could convince me to look at your—” she paused and let her eyes drift over his body, finally stopping on his crotch. “—couch.”

He stretched with male pride. “Let’s take the elevator and find out.”