The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) (2 page)

I would put money on the fact that Ellen did not plan for this picture to be displayed during her presentation. I'm curious to know who is behind this unfortunate-for-Ellen-but-very-fortunate-for-me change in presentation agenda. When Ellen finally realizes why the entire conference room has ridiculous smirks on their faces, she is completely mortified. This moment of mortification only lasts a few seconds before she quickly changes the slide and addresses her audience with a sarcastic quip about wanting to make sure she had their full attention.

You definitely had mine.

Even in embarrassing situations, she manages to pull through with grace.
Really sexy, grace.
I'm in awe of this woman. Undeniably intrigued. I think she has me under some kind of spell. It's either that or someone has drugged the complimentary coffee that sits in front of me. I discreetly lift my Styrofoam cup and glance inside to make sure I don't see any evidence of an odd powder or residue floating around.

Nope, nothing.

I can't write this unquestionable attraction off.

I only have myself and my ever-willing cock to blame.

I know this makes me sound like a complete jackass, but I can't remember a time where a woman managed to get my attention without even really trying on her part. She's just up there being herself, presenting to a group of people, and I'm nothing but in awe of her.

She manages to smoothly finish her presentation without further assistance from her slides. I'd take a wild guess and say Ellen did this to avoid any other unexpected pictures to become front and center in a room full of surgeons and hospital officials. Mostly male surgeons and hospital officials at that.

I spend the rest of the time formulating a plan on how to get Ellen alone to chat after her presentation. Unfortunately for me, once she gives her closing speech, she rushes out of the conference room like her ass is on fire with the excuse of not wanting to miss her flight.

In this very moment, I have decided that Regency Memorial will be seeing the face of a new trauma surgeon very soon. That's right—Trent Hamilton, will be willingly taking that temporary offer to oversee Dr. Grey's practice.

I just hope Ellen James is ready...

Chapter One

“Not every moment in life is worth the purchase of a Hallmark card…”

Exhausted and starving, I sit down in the breakroom to enjoy a little R&R away from the trenches. I've got to stop agreeing to double shifts. For some reason, Regency has seen an all-time record this July in ER patients, and my manager might as well have me on speed dial. If I even see Nurse Ratchet headed my way to beg me to pick up another shift, I am running in the opposite direction. I don't care if the crazy bitch offers me triple time!

Nurse Ratchet is the less than friendly nickname that has been bestowed upon my wonderful manager, Shirley. She is a beast of a woman who has been a nurse longer than I have even been alive. She lives and breathes her job, and being stylish isn't one of her priorities. Her Groucho Marx eyebrows and gray roots are a testament to that.

I don't even want to imagine what the carpet looks like…

I am newly single, twenty-eight years old, and working over sixty hours in the ER most weeks. Yeah, my life is fucking fantastic right now. I reside in Charlotte, North Carolina, and have been working at Regency Medical for over seven years. Nursing is my job, and I'm thankful it pays my bills, bar tabs, and addiction to smut novels.

My name is Ellen James. Elle for short. I'm ornery and sarcastic, and my favorite word has four letters, starts with an F, and ends with U, C, and K. I'm loud, obnoxious, and inappropriately honest. I have a girl crush on my yoga instructor and take pride in the fact that I can double plow. I promise it's a yoga position!

With that being said, I'm also an advocate of equal opportunity and do not discriminate against any type of plowing. I feel completely certifiable most days, and my therapist's recommendation is Prozac. I'm actually partial to a bottle of tequila and a rough ride to Pound Town. Can you feel my sexual frustration?

Three months ago, I came home early from a nursing conference to find my fiancé in bed with another woman. Not just any other woman though—my friend and coworker, Veronica Morris. Shit hit the fan, and let's just say we won't be sharing Pinterest recipes or braiding each other's hair anytime soon. And to top it all off, I still work with the two-timing asshole and his hooker slut.

I'm not bitter.

Okay, I'm a little bitter, but can you honestly blame me?

I mean, my soon-to-be husband dicked one of my coworkers in
our
bed. Our god damn bed! Who does that? An asshole, cock-sucking, lying scumbag, that's who. If I could cut his balls off and make him wear them as a necklace, I'd do it.

Just thinking about the night I walked in on them banging it out makes me feel stabby. I've fantasized about running over my ex, John, with my car, more times than I'd like to admit. Nothing can bring out your inner-psycho-bitch like seeing your spouse's cock inside another woman. The only thing that could have made that situation better is if it would have broadcasted on that show
Cheaters.
I would have found a decent amount of sick-and-twisted enjoyment out of seeing that moment televised for the world to see. John butt-ass naked and begging for my forgiveness while sporting a raging erection with his whore's pussy juice dripping off of it, attempting to hide his face from the cameras…

A god damn Hallmark moment right there.

And again, just thinking about that night is making me feel
extremely
stabby.

Dr. John Ryan. ER Physician. The man I found to be sexy, charming, and utterly irresistible. He was once the most important man in my life. I'd started dating him when I was twenty-two years old, and things just escalated from there. We fell in love, moved in together, got engaged, and planned to live happily ever after in a beautiful home with a white picket fence.

Fortunately, our relationship ended before purchasing our dream home, because three months ago I probably would have lit that motherfucker on fire.

Chapter Two

“Sometimes surprises surprise the fuck out of you, and sometimes those surprises come in the form of a big red flag
—
a two-timing cocksucker with a hard-on, thrusting into a dirty pirate hooker.”

Three months ago…

I decided to surprise him. I knew he would be home in bed by the time my flight got in. As I got out of the cab, the cool night air caused shivers up my spine. Charlotte was uncharacteristically cold for April that night, and I noticed our bedroom light was on in the apartment. I remember thinking it was odd that John was still awake.

It's 2 a.m. Maybe he's on call tonight?

I paid the driver and dragged my suitcase through the front door.

I could hear faint moaning.

What? Is John watching porn?

I actually giggled at the thought of this. I had no idea what or who was coming—pun intended. I walked down the hall and opened our bedroom door to find my fiancé balls-deep in Veronica.

I wanted to vomit.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat, and honestly, it was a shame that I couldn't attempt an exorcist-style projectile puking session all over those two. I just stood there in shock while I watched

John roughly thrust into another woman over and over and over again.
My John.
The man I thought was my best friend. The man I was planning to spend the rest of my life with.

I remember loudly dropping my bag to the hardwood floor, causing John to still, and Veronica looked up. "Oh my god, Ellen!" Veronica said with an expression of horror on her sweaty sex face. I found her expression ironic, because she was still spread-eagle on my bed, with her hairy muff lips flapping in the wind. Okay, maybe she wasn't
that
hairy, but she still had more pubes than any woman should sport unless she's planning on re-enacting a '70s style porno.

John quickly stood up and turned to look at me. "Ellie... Baby... Ellie... Oh shit! Oh fuck! Let me explain..." He was standing there, dripping in sweat, with a god damned hard-on, telling me to let him explain.

I looked John in the eyes with a cold, hard stare, took a deep breath, and then slowly picked up my bag and turned for the door. John grabbed my arm while looking at me with absolute terror etched on his face. "Ellie... Babe... Wait... Please don't leave me! Oh my god, sweetie, I'm so sorry!"

I roughly pulled my arm from his grasp. "Don't fucking call me Ellie. You lost those fucking rights when you fucked this bitch in our bed!"

I could feel the tears starting to fill my eyes and slowly drip down my cheeks.

I was devastated.

I felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and left me open to bleed out every last ounce of dignity I had left. I can vaguely remember John attempting to talk to me, but it was too late. My mind had already gone into shock. The last thing I remember about that night is taking off my engagement ring, placing it on the dresser, and walking out of our apartment for the very last time.

That was three months ago.

Three long months since John Ryan broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.

It was a night that completely turned my world upside down. A night that took a little part of my happiness and flushed it down a diarrhea-filled toilet. A night that, when I look back, the only words that come to my mind are
fucking dickheads.

John and Veronica are the biggest dickheads I have ever laid eyes on. Those two selfishly put their horny needs first and didn't worry about the consequences. They gave in to their slutty, cock-sucking, whore-filled desires and ruined a long-term relationship that was soon to turn into a marriage.

A soon-to-be marriage that had all of the wedding details planned to a T. Dress was bought, venues were booked, flowers were ordered, and invitations were ready to be sent in the mail. What a complete and total shit-storm those two put me through. The headache of explanations to friends and family, the endless phone calls, the attempts to cancel everything that had been put into motion for the wedding…

I would have been better off getting ass fucked with a twelve incher, minus the lube. There would have been a heck of a lot more enjoyment, that's for sure.

Chapter Three

“Breakups are hard. They can turn your life upside down and send you on endless journey to pick up the pieces and find yourself again.”

After John trampled my heart, my best friend Amy was my rock. Our relationship is different than most. I know a lot of people don't really understand our sarcastic, raunchy sense of humor, but Amy has been nothing but a true friend to me. She is my best friend and has been a huge support system since day one. She's my shoulder to cry on, my drinking partner to let loose with, and everything else in between. Despite all of our witty banter and constant pranks on each other, I love her dearly. Amy has seen me through one of the lowest points in my life and managed to help me come out of that situation with my head still held high. Walking in on John having sex with another woman quite literally destroyed me. He betrayed me in the worst possible way, and for that, I will never forgive him.

John spent the first month after our breakup vying for my forgiveness. There were endless phone calls, text messages, unwelcome visits to my apartment, emails, and daily flower arrangements.

You name it and John attempted it.

The man was a force to be reckoned with, and somehow, I think he really believed we would get back together. In his warped, screwed-up head, I think John thought that I would eventually just forgive and forget his ultimate betrayal to our relationship.

At first, he even refused to cancel the wedding we had planned together. Eventually, after several weeks of no breakthrough, I think it finally sunk in that I was never going to get back together with him. The wedding plans were officially canceled, and I can only imagine the exorbitant amount of money John lost on deposits.

I hope it was an unbelievably, ridiculous amount.

The first thirty days were the absolute worst. I moved in with Amy. Well actually I was
forced
to move in with Amy. She refused to take no for an answer. Amy is nothing if not persistent and extremely stubborn. She does not understand when someone is trying to tell her no. Her stubbornness was a life-saver; moving in with her was one of the best decisions that had ever been made for me.

Our conversation regarding me becoming Amy's new roommate consisted of the following:

"You're fucking moving in with me."

"No I'm not. I'm not letting you do that."

"Stop being such a dumbass. You're moving in with me or else I will tell Dr. Simon you want to bang his brains out."

"You're playing dirty. God! Why are you so damn bossy?”

"I'm going to your old apartment tomorrow and packing your shit. I'll probably tell that dick-munch ex of yours to go fuck himself while I'm there. I love you, roomie."

"Ugh. I love you too."

Amy moved my stuff from John's apartment the very next day. I can only imagine the nasty things she'd managed to spew at him when she was packing up my stuff. I spent countless hours watching mind-numbing reality shows while stuffing my face with Rocky Road ice cream. I refused to leave the apartment, and if it weren't for Amy being such a prying, nosy bitch, I would have shut everyone out of my life. I am fortunate that she stood by my side and helped me pick up the pieces of my battered, pathetic heart.