Full-length enemies-to-lovers romance loaded with uh-ohs. Office banter, pastry mischief, slow-burn spice, plus one bossy suit who might stop stomping around long enough to realize he’s falling hopelessly in love.
Anna Patel calls a marketing meeting on Thursday and asks me to sit in. Of course, there’s a vacant chair beside Nevermore.
I hesitate a second too long, leaving an opening for this junior copywriter to step past me toward the seat. I can’t even remember his name.
Jake? Jeremy? James?
He’s a newer kid, and he’s damn near undressing her with his eyes so obviously that if she ever looks up from her laptop, she’ll feel buck naked.
The punk thinks he’s sitting beside her.
Like hell.
I speed up, stepping behind him and grabbing his shoulder.
“Why don’t you take the seat beside Miss Patel? I may need to talk to my assistant.” It’s not a question. My words are professional, but my tone is barbaric.
I’ve never felt so uncivilized in the office, and fuck, it has everything to do with the hot prick of jealousy coursing in my veins.
“Oh, sure thing, Mr. Burns!” he says, fear flashing in his eyes before he scurries off without looking back at me.
That’s what I thought.
I sit down beside Dakota, grateful she’s oblivious to my territory marking.
Until she laughs, leans over, and whispers, “Behave.”
“Why?” I ask, flashing her a clueless look.
“You practically gave the poor guy shell shock.”
I’m not sorry.
He should be scared when he tries to usurp the boss’ seat—or his woman. Let him drool over a hundred thousand other beautiful women in this city.
“You’re welcome, Nevermore. From the looks he gave you, I think he writes angsty poetry about you. If he’s able to write at all. Is he any good?”
I’ve never noticed his work when he’s assigned to a less pressing line under Anna. Hell, like most new hires, I half forgot he even worked here until now.
“He’s where he should be, I think. We don’t collaborate a ton,” she says diplomatically, hiding a rosy blush on her cheeks.
“He should do more writing and less eye-fucking,” I growl in her ear, leaning close.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My nostrils flare at her scent. It’s bad enough that I practically tossed the boy on the floor, and now I’m low-key smelling her like a Neanderthal with a rose.
“Mr. Burns, shut up!” she hisses.
I can’t help smirking as her green eyes roll with shock.
“Did you see how he looked at you?” I whisper, undaunted. “If he was looking for his muse, it damn sure wasn’t interested in PG-13 poetry.”
She’s bright red but she grins.
“You’re such an idiot. Jim does not write poems about me. I doubt he even reads anything that isn’t a bargain thriller. I mean, that’s usually what he’s got his nose stuffed in during lunch.”
Her quip shouldn’t make me happy. At least Nevermore isn’t impressed with his reading habits.
“Takes one to know one with writers, I guess. You are a Poe and a literary princess,” I tease.
Her eyes lock onto mine harshly.
“Boss, I will stab you with my pen,” she whispers.
“Doubtful.”
“Want to bet?”
Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty. With over a million books sold, she lives for the joy of making two people fight with every bit of their soul for a Happily Ever After.
Current fan favorites include her Enguard Protectors series, accidental love novels, plus long beloved MC romance thrillers like the Grizzlies and Deadly Pistols.
(Google gives me a small commission if you click on ads)
Oh, this sounds really fun! Great cover! ;)
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