When I applied to medical school, I never thought I'd be paying the bill by becoming a surrogate. I suppose a girl has to do what she has to do in the end, so I decided to intercept Uncle Sam before he could come for me. Funny enough, it's surprisingly easy to find willing participants. I answered an ad and the guy showed up at the coffeehouse we agreed to meet at. He showed up frickin' . . . beautiful and with brown eyes that tightened my tummy in ways they probably shouldn't have. He looks familiar to me. Like I've seen him on the news or in the paper or something.
And the last thing I should be doing is falling for the guy whose baby I volunteered to carry.
She's obviously here for someone else, agreed to meet someone else. About a baby? She wants to carry . . . my baby? Oddly, before the moment I met this woman the thought had never really crossed my mind. I suppose the idea never had time to form considering I've just been cleared of cancer. I get the news right before I meet her. I meet her and everything changes. I want a baby. I want another chance to lead a fulfilling life and I want . . . her.
But how can I have them both?
Contains mature themes.