Dr. OB Is LIVE!! Blog Tour Part 2 + A GIVEAWAY By: Max Monroe!!!!
Dr. OB Playlist: https://goo.gl/ePIUcU
It’s just a docuseries about your career as an OB/GYN, they said.
It won’t interrupt your life during or after filming, they said.
It is a great opportunity for the hospital and your practice, they said.
Well, they—the television executives who seem intent on ruining my career and personal life with a fair number of creative liberties—lied.
Now I’m stuck dealing with the consequences of believing them.
Instead of being known as Dr. Will Cummings, Head of Obstetrics and Gynecology at St. Luke’s Hospital, I’m now being called Dr. Obscene.
What devotion I’d hoped to earn in respect, I’ve instead received in patients flashing me seductive smiles and flirtatious winks during their exams.
How’s a guy supposed to convince the most perfect woman he’s ever met that he’s not as much of an idiot in real life as he appears to be on camera?
With all of the show’s side effects taking root like parasites, it’s going to take a lot to persuade Melody Marco to be anything more than my new nurse.
But I can’t get her out of my head.
I want her.
Good thing I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge…
Get ready, Melody.
The doctor is in.
We know you have a choice in authors, so we thank you for reading with us today.
Please keep your feet up and your families mildly fed during reading.
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Tour Giveaway LINK: https://goo.gl/KEO9E9
“Oh, come on. If I were really trying to torture you, I wouldn’t have protected you from the fact that Savannah has been in there trying to convince Georgie that, and I quote, it’d be the most natural thing in the world for you to be her obstetrician.”
Internally, I cringed. Externally, I cringed. In fact, it felt like Kline had just jabbed me in the back of the throat with his finger, and my gag reflex was doing nothing more than reacting accordingly—hacking cough, choking sensation, slight nausea.
I loved my career as a physician in obstetrics, but I’d sign up to flip burgers at the nearest fast-food joint if it meant avoiding doing vaginal exams on my sister. The mere thought was worse than that disgusting horror flick called The Human Centipede.
Seriously, if you’ve never seen that movie, don’t fucking see that movie.
That flick is more traumatic than the blue waffle and that “Two Girls One Cup” site combined.
Jesus. Don’t Google those either.