Physical Connection

By: Sierra Hill

The Physical Series

Reviews for The Physical Series:

“I so loved this story. I thought it was wonderfully written and had amazing detail to it. I fell in love with the characters and why they became who they are. I didn't want to but down the book.” – RomanceAholic Blog

“For adult readers who enjoy a few chicklit leanings in their contemporary mild taboo romances with a dash of HEA and a lot of heat.” – Amazon reviewer

“You won't the disappointed if you indulge in this well written sensual romance.” – Amazon Reviewer

“I've never been a big fan of romance novels, but I love Sierra Hills books. She writes stories with strong smart women who don't need a man to make them successful.” – Amazon reviewer

“I loved this book! Great characters, good concept, wonderful idea to bring to the forefront the struggle many people who suffer from depression face every day.” Amazon reviewer

“From page one I was hooked into Sloane and Dylan's story.” Amazon reviewer

“Paradise has never been about places. It exists in moments. In connection. In flashes across time.” Victoria Erickson

“I BELIEVE IN THE KIND of love that doesn’t demand me to prove my worth...I crave a natural connection, where my soul is able to recognize a feeling of home in another...Something that allows me to be without question.”

Joey Palermo

Chapter One


“Hey, doc. You got a second?”

I stop just outside the room I’ve just exited, bristling at the informality my new male nurse, Eli, uses to call after me. I halt my progress and set down my iPad and charts on the nurse’s station. I really don’t have time for this tonight and I grumble at the unscheduled interruption.

At the rate my day is going, I won’t get to where I’m going until well after eight p.m. There’s also a shit ton of paperwork that’s piled up on my desk with no consideration to my personal life. Looks like there’ll be no escaping the fact that I’ll be returning to the hospital after the party tonight.

Such is life as a trauma surgeon.

Taking a deep breath, I replace my grimace with a tight-lipped smile. The nurse doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe just ignores my aggravation like most of the nurses around here do. I’m not a hothead or egotistical prick like Dr. Malcolm or Dr. Henderson, who routinely throw their charts and other physical objects at their nursing staff, but I do have my moments. It comes with the territory when you’re dealing with death’s hand in our lives. It puts things into perspective.

As I patiently wait for Nurse Morrell to make his way down the corridor, I remind myself to stay chill and not let my anxiety show. It’s not his fault that instead of being happy to be back in Boston and thrilled to be at the top of my career, I’ve never been lonelier. Or felt less like myself than ever before.

That instead of content, like my two best friends, Rylie and Sasha, seem to be in their lives, all I feel is hollow. Like there’s a massive crater in my body. As if someone’s surgically removed a vital part of me and has failed to return it to its proper place.

I guess that’s what heartbreak does to a person. Rips out your heart and leaves you with a gaping hole.

Pivoting on my heels, I rest against the counter and give him my full attention.

“Yeah, sure, Elijah. I’m just closing down with ICU rounds. What can I help you with?”

Elijah Morrell is the newest member of my surgical team and a recent transfer from a sister hospital in Indiana. I’ve tried to be welcoming and helpful to him as a senior member of the trauma team. He certainly doesn’t need to know the shitload of stress I’m under in this new position or how my lack of sleep and excruciating schedule this week has made me an irritable beast.

This guy – with all his happy buoyancy – like a Labrador puppy, all bouncy and excitable – doesn’t need any further evidence to prove that I’m an uptight asshole.

Everyone already loves Elijah in just the few shorts weeks he’s been here. Maybe it’s due to his comforting smile or his easy comradery with his colleagues. Elijah exudes a passion for life, a joie de vivre, if you will.