Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
She’s my office crush, the badass boss of Marketing.
She’s fiery and fierce and ferocious, and she uses every opportunity to prove it.
As head of Finance, I’ve just set the budgets for the latest quarter.
But then Faith demands a meeting to argue her case for additional funds for her latest marketing campaign, and naturally, I’m all too happy to have a private meeting with her.
I’m even happier when she accidentally sends a text to me about how hot I am—a message meant for her friend.
And so now that I know she wants me as much as I want her? Well!
I’ll do what I’ve wanted to do since I laid eyes on her, which is to show her what it’s like to be mine,
and mine alone.
Texting the Enemy is a short, steamy, insta-everything office romance.
Each book in the series can be read as a standalone story.
No OM / OW drama and no cliffhangers. No ddlg. Always a sweet HEA!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
RHETT
Fifteen years ago, when I first started this company, I’d never have been caught dead leaving the office at five o’clock. For years, this place was essentially my home—I’ve slept on the couch in my office more times than I would like to admit. But now, with the clock reading three minutes past five, I’m already shrugging my jacket on and leaving.
It’s a Friday evening, which means it’s time for my weekly drinks with Paul. We’ve been best friends for God knows how long, and somewhere along the way, we fell into the routine of after-work drinks at the local bar every Friday, with an unspoken rule not to miss it. I’m glad for it, truthfully, because if it wasn’t for this routine, I’d probably never socialize.
Given I’m in my early forties, most of my friends and acquaintances are married and settled down, some with kids. Christ, Paul’s daughter, is in her twenties. But I’ve spent so long married to my work, this company that I built from the ground up, that I haven’t had any time or energy left to find the person to spend my life with.
It hasn’t bothered me … until recently. Now that the company has been well established for so long, and I’m lucky to have an incredibly talented and capable team who knows the business almost as well as I do, and there’s less need for me to work myself half to death, I’m beginning to become all too aware of how quiet and cold my house is when I come home for the night.
I try to shake that depressing thought out of my head and continue my walk towards the doors, saying goodbye to the few employees still here on my way.
“Have a good night, Mina!” I call out to the receptionist as she closes down her computers and finishes up. She smiles at me, wishing me the same as I stroll out the doors and into the fresh evening air.
By the time I make it to my car, I’m failing miserably at not thinking about the desire to find somebody to settle down with. It should be easy, right? Find a nice girl—God knows my friends have plenty of people they’ve been trying to set me up with over the years—get married and maybe have a couple of kids. There’s only one problem, and it’s a big fucking problem—nobody appeals to me except the one person I’m definitely not supposed to want. The one person who is absolutely, surely, totally off-limits.
Rayna Baker.
My best friend’s daughter.
At twenty-three, she’s twenty years younger than me, full of life, determined, sweet, and so fucking gorgeous I’d have to be blind not to find her attractive. But it’s more than that; it’s her heart and personality that got me. She’s had me wrapped around her finger for three years, not that she knows it, and I go to lengths to make sure nobody else does, either.
She can’t find out because then Paul would find out, and he’d never forgive me. Besides, there’s no way my feelings are reciprocated. I’ve tried to avoid my own feelings, tried to ignore and deny them, but it’s impossible. So instead, I’ve vowed to myself to suffer in silence, wanting her from a distance but pretending like I don’t, for everyone’s sake.
Still, the whole drive to the bar, Rayna’s in my mind. Her blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and glittery makeup that makes her shine on the outside just as much as she does inside. Her laugh, her smile, the way she shimmies along to music when she thinks nobody’s watching.
Fuck.
I need to get a goddamn grip. I pull into the parking lot, forcing myself to take deep breaths to clear my mind before seeing Paul.
When I’ve gotten ahold of myself, I put on my best normal expression and head into the bar. Lionel’s Dive Bar is far from fancy, and though Paul and I could afford a high-end place now, we wouldn’t change this place for the world. The lighting inside is dim, and the noise of chatter and glasses clinking combines with the thud of pool balls cueing off as people play a round in the corner. The familiar environment relaxes me a little, and I head over to our usual spot at the bar on the far left.
Paul’s already there waiting for me, two drinks in front of him. He slides one over to me as I take the seat next to him, and I nod in thanks as I take a sip. The liquor burns its way down my throat, and I focus on the sensation instead of the treacherous thoughts in my mind.
For a few hours, we chat about the usual things—work and vacation plans and mutual friends. But soon enough, Paul brings up the one thing I was hoping to avoid as the bar begins to fill around us.