Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Innocent little me?
I’m just a petite, talented, darling little thorn in his side. Okay, my words, not his.
But he can’t fire me unless I quit—long story.
The joke’s on him, because I couldn’t even quit chewing gum, let alone my dream job.
So I thought I had it handled.
I could survive the new boss, along with his icy dreamboat eyes and buns of steel (how he got a stick so far up a rear that tight remains a mystery).
I could even endure sharing an office with heartless Mr. Heartthrob.
Easy. Ish.
But then I drunkenly made the challenge that changed everything.
I told him I could make an interview with an arrogant jerk like him sell.
His answer? Prove it.
If I fail, he gets what he wants and I quit. If I succeed, he backs off for good.
Even if I’m seeing there’s more to him with each interview, the plan is still simple.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
DARCY
There was a bounce in my step, a smile on my face, and I’d even worn my favorite pair of neon pink panties. Today, the city of Manhattan was my oyster. Actually, oysters were disgusting, so Manhattan was my slice of pineapple and ham pizza with crumbly bacon sprinkled on top. I felt like shooting finger guns and winking at random people I passed on the street. Hell, I would’ve even moonwalked into my favorite coffee shop on the way to work if I knew how.
I settled for smiling and pulling open the door to the sound of happy, jingling bells.
My phone buzzed and I read the text that came through.
Charleston: Today is your big day, girl! Keep me posted!
For some reason he followed that with eggplant emojis, birthday hats, and firecrackers. Today wasn’t my birthday, there was definitely no eggplant in my recent past or near future, and I didn’t think there’d be fireworks. But I smiled and texted back a long row of thumbs up emojis and stuffed my phone back in my purse.
If my life was a movie, this would be the part where all those sad, depressing scenes from earlier finally paid off. It was the part where the downtrodden heroine got her shit together and something good finally happened to her. It had to be that part, actually. Because if all the crap I’d trudged through to get to this point was for nothing, I was going to kick someone in the balls. Then I was going to scream. And then I was going to find a giant jar of peanut butter to drown my sorrows in–extra crunchy, of course.
But I didn’t need to worry about any of that, because today was my day.
I took a nice, long breath and smiled to myself as I waited in line. I barely even noticed or cared when a huge man in a suit cut in front of me. I titled my head back a little to look up at him. The bastard was big–like curse your luck when you realize he’s in front of you at the movie theater big.
Normally, I might have cracked a sarcastic comment. Oh sure, cut ahead. Nope, I’m definitely not in as big a rush as you are. Not today, though. I wasn’t going to let anything sabotage my good vibes.
I studied the back of his head and decided you could definitely tell if a guy was hot from behind. The hair was clean cut and well maintained. Brown. No, it was coffee with a touch of creamer. That was also a sign of hotness. If something was pretty enough, you couldn’t just call it what it was. Red sunsets were shortcake stained by strawberry, and the ocean was a spread of blueberry jam, and I was apparently very hungry. Maybe I just wanted to take a bite out of the man in front of me. Nothing but a little nibble.
I continued roaming his large body with my eyes. His neck was thick and smooth and I could even see just a smidge of his jaw from the back. I could picture him storming into fancy boardrooms, slamming down a stack of papers, and doing some sort of bossy type stuff. Maybe he’d demand everybody produce their quarterly reports, now.
I grinned at myself, then shook my head and tried to stop being a weirdo.
Except all I managed to do was lower my gaze to his long legs as he stepped forward, bringing us a little closer to the counter. He was wearing a French blue suit that was probably tailored, or maybe everything just fit the rude bastard perfectly off the shelf. He was like a mannequin that you could throw the cheapest t-shirt on and make it look like a thing of envy.
My phone buzzed a few more times and I saw more texts from co-workers congratulating me and wishing me luck. I smiled, fired off some replies, and put the phone away again. When I finished, the guy who cut in front of me was ordering, and wow.
The idea that you could sniff out hotness from the back of someone’s head may be up for debate, but no warm blooded woman could hear that voice and not be certain the man was pure fire in a skillet–and not the kind you could easily snuff out. This was the kind of skillet fire that burned down kitchens, apartment buildings, and a girl’s favorite pair of neon pink panties. If his hair was coffee with cream then his voice was like hot caramel drizzling all over my naked body–and yeah, that voice brought me straight to naked bodies and erect nipples. But then I tuned into what he was actually saying.
“...Quickly, and don’t fuck it up.”
Wow, I thought. Why did all the pretty ones have to be so miserable and rude? Normally, I was the poster-child for non confrontationalism. But today was my freaking day, right? I felt offended on behalf of every man on the planet who hadn’t been blessed with such perfect genetics, because this douche nozzle had everything and still found a reason to be a prick. I bet nobody ever called him on it either because they were scared, or they wanted to get in his pants.