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Only One Chance by Natasha Madison - Newest in The Only One Series

10/22/2020

Comments

 
It makes sense that a sports radio host has the rule of not dating any of the players,
especially at the height of her career.

So why does she spend $25,000 at an auction for one night with the most annoying player she's ever met?
Great question! Get your copy to see just how this goes...
ONLY ONE CHANCE

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Excerpt from Only One Chance

I try not to groan as I walk away from him to the tables. I go through the prizes—a signed puck, a signed jersey, a game in the press box, and four tickets to the All-Star game—and I bid on the All-Star game package, thinking that I could give it away on the air. I’m about to turn around when I bump into a hard chest. Male hands automatically grab my upper arms. “Careful, gorgeous.” I hear his voice and groan, then move my shoulders out of his touch. “What did you bid on?” he asks, walking to the table and going through the sheets. “Oh, look at this.” He picks up a sheet and flashes it my way. “A weekend away in a hidden cabin.” He winks at me. “What do you say? You, me?”
 
“How secluded is it?” I ask him, and he looks down at the paper. “Like, is there a chance they will find your dead body?” I laugh, and he just shakes his head. He’s about to say something else when I see a blonde walk our way. Her hips swing, and her tits bounce. “Incoming.” I motion with my head in the direction she’s coming from. It’s his turn now to groan. “Don’t lie, you love all this attention,” I say, and I’m about to walk away when the blonde steps in front of me.
 
“Miller.” She sings his name, walking to him and getting chest to chest with him. “I am so excited about the auction.” I roll my eyes and turn to walk away, but not before hearing her beg him to take her home tonight. 
 
I put my empty glass on a tray and grab another one when I hear Nico's voice fill the arena. “Testing one, two.” I look up and see that a spotlight is on him now. “Testing one, two.”
 
The chattering stops, and the room goes quiet. “If I can get everyone’s attention.” I look around now and spot Ralph and Candace sitting down at a table in front. I make my way through the crowd and find an empty chair beside Candace. I sit down and look over to see that Manning is sitting next to me, and his wife just glares at me. I smile at her and wave, but she turns her head, and I see Manning roll his lips. “Please help me welcome our captain Manning Stevenson.” The applause starts, and he gets up, and so does his wife, kissing him on the lips as though he won an award or something. He walks up the stairs while he wipes off his lips, and I giggle, which earns me another glare from his wife. 
 
“How drunk are you?” Candace says, leaning into me.
 
“Not drunk enough,” I say, taking another glass of champagne. “Cheers.” I hold up my glass, and she grabs her own, and we click glasses quietly. I listen half-heartedly to Manning’s speech about why we are here, and my curiosity has me looking around the room to see who else is here that I haven’t seen.
 
 I spot the owner of the station sitting at a table with a couple of the players and their wives. I look around and spot Miller standing with five other men on the side. Our eyes meet again, and this time, he winks. I roll my eyes and look away. What in the hell is wrong with you? This is the second time he’s caught you looking at him. And why are you looking at him? It must be the suit or the champagne. “I think this champagne is not good,” I whisper to Candace, who looks at me and smiles. “Can champagne go bad? Like, can it poison you?”
 
“No.” She takes a swallow from her glass. “Tastes fine to me.” She puts it down, and a waiter comes over and grabs the two empty glasses and puts two more on the table.
 
“Am I going to have to carry you into the house?” Ralph asks Candace.
 
I lean over Candace to whisper to Ralph. “Don’t pretend you don’t like drunk sex.” 
 
“I like drunk sex,” Candace says, not in a whisper, making Ralph just shake his head. I sit up now, looking at the stage as they bring the bachelors on stage. They introduce a couple of the rookies, and then they save Miller for last.
 
“And it is my greatest pleasure,” Manning says with a smile. “Introducing my assistant captain, or what I like to call him, Mr. GQ,” he says. The applause starts, and a couple of whistles are blown as he walks onto the stage and shakes Manning’s hand and then looks out into the crowd. 
 
“He’s so gross,” I say under my breath, and Candace laughs at me. The bidding starts with the rookie first. The highest bidder is five thousand dollars. The second one goes for the same price, and the third one goes for just a touch more. They all stay under five thousand dollars.
 
“Now,” Nico says, “it’s time for the last bachelor of the night.” The girls all cheer, and I look over at Candace, who laughs. “We are going to start the bidding off at—”
 
“Fifty cents.” I hold up my hand, and everyone laughs, even Miller.
 
“One thousand dollars,” one of the women on the side says, and Candace looks at me.
 
“Not worth it,” I say, drinking another sip. “So not worth it.” I look into the glass.
 
“Twelve hundred!” another woman shouts, and I look over at the woman who sits there with a huge smile on her face. 
 
“Fifteen hundred,” another one says. 
 
“Seventeen!” one woman shouts from the back.
 
“Ohh, this might be a hot ticket item,” Nico says, laughing. Miller just looks down and shakes his head.
 
“Two thousand,” the first one comes back with.
 
“Do I have twenty-one hundred?” Nico asks.
 
Now the girl who sang his name before shouts out, “Five thousand dollars!” The crowd gasps, and Miller just looks at her.
 
“Ten thousand dollars,” Nico says, pointing at the one who just shout out the highest bid, “Going once, going twice.”
 
“Twenty-five thousand dollars!” I shout. The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, shocking everyone, especially me.
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MORE ABOUT ONLY ONE CHANCE 

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Miller

They called me the pretty boy on and off the ice. Hockey’s most eligible bachelor.

When my teammate asked me to donate one date to his charity, I figured why not. Worst case, I’d spend the night with a fan. Best-case scenario, she would be hot. What I wasn’t expecting was for my dream girl to be the highest bidder.

For years, she brushed me off, and now, I finally had a chance to take her out and show her who I really was.

With only one shot at this, I really hoped I didn’t mess it up.

Layla

At the top of my career, I was riding the wave of my sports talk show having the best rating on the radio.

I also made it a rule to never date any sports players.

It was my one rule, and I was sticking to it until I bid on the only man who gets under my skin.

All it takes is one touch, one night, one kiss, and only one chance.
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You do not want to miss this story!
ONLY ONE CHANCE
Live Now on Amazon


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MEET AUTHOR NATASHA MADISON

When USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Madison's nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four-inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...

Follow Natasha on Amazon

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BRAND NEW from Author Natasha Madison ... Only One Kiss

8/30/2020

Comments

 

She isn't taking on any new clients. He's a newly single, hockey playing dad.
Will he play the adorable daughter card? 
There are so many ways in which Ralph needs Candace, so many ways she enriches his life.
So why does he fire her?

Click HERE for midnight delivery of ONLY ONE KISS

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Excerpt from Only One Kiss

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Was he flirting with me? I look at his retreating back. “Don’t go there,” I say to myself. “Don’t think too much into it.” I grab my phone and make a couple of notes about things to do once I get home, and when I hear him walking into the room, I look up at him. “Is she out?”

“She is,” he says, putting the bottle in the sink. “It smells amazing.”

“I know.” I smirk as I walk to the stove and put the pasta in the boiling water. It’s been boiling for the past four minutes. “How long is she out for?”

“It’s Russian roulette.” He laughs, leaning back on the counter as he watches me stir the pasta. “It could be a ten-minute catnap, or it could be a seven-hour stretch.”

“If she gets up, I can get her,” I say, “so you can eat.”

“I have so much shit to do,” he says, and I look over my shoulder at him.

“Can I help?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it.

“I mean, unless you know a babysitter.” He rubs his hands over his face.

“I could help out for a bit if you want.” What are you doing? The left side of my brain asks the right side.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We need to discuss something,” he says. My heart skips a beat, and my hands suddenly start to shake, and I don’t know why. “Jesus,” he says. Putting his hand on the counter, he flexes his arm, and his T-shirt stretches so tight across his chest that I can see the definition of his pecs. “I don’t even know how to start this.”

“Well,” I say softly, looking back at the pasta. “I have been told that you should just say it like you’re ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“Really?” he says, folding his arms over his chest. I can tell he’s nervous about something.

“Really,” I say to him, suddenly afraid of what he is going to say. “Fine,” he finally says. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say the worst thing I can think of—that he doesn’t want me to come over anymore. “I want to fire you.” My mouth flies open. “But I know I need you.”

“Okay,” I say, not sure what to say. “Can I know why you want to fire me?”

“I need you to help me with social media. I need you to help me set up the foundation, and when I read the email you sent me two days ago, I was in awe. You just, you’re amazing,” he says, and the struggle on his face is real.

“So why would you want to fire me?” I ask him, my mouth suddenly dry, and the lump in my throat is forming. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away.

“Because,” he says softly, “I want to date you.” The words hit me straight in the heart, and my mouth opens. “I know it’s stupid,” he says, pushing off the counter. “And you don’t have to say anything.” I try to say something, anything, but the words are all stuck in my throat. “And it’ll probably be super awkward now, so you can ignore what I just said.”

“Why?” I ask him, and he just looks at me.

“Why?” he asks me, confused. “Like why do I want to date you, or why do I want you to ignore it?”

“You said that you can’t date anyone,” I remind him of his words.

“Yeah.” He nods, and the stove beeps, telling me that the pasta is ready. I drain the pasta and then put the pot down because my hands are shaking. I’m so confused right now. “Well, for the past ten days, all I did was think of you,” he says. He then comes over to me and grabs me by my hand to pull me to the couch. I walk with him to the couch, his hand sending lightning bolts up my arm. “Sit.” He points at the couch, and I sit just because I don’t think my legs can hold me up much longer. He sits on the table in front of me, and we are face-to-face now. “I tried to tell myself that I couldn’t do it. I tried to tell myself that I couldn’t do it to you. That you deserved much better than a single father who literally feels like he is failing every single day. But . . .” He laughs now. “But then all I could do was think about kissing you.”

​My heart speeds up to an unhealthy rate, and I would normally assume I’m having a heart attack, but I know that this is all because of the man sitting in front of me.

“You thought about kissing me?” I point at him and then myself.

“More times than is humanly possible,” he says with a sly smile. “I might have also thought of other things, but . . .” I laugh now, throwing my head back. “Which is why I’m so torn. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His voice goes low, and he looks down, then up again. “I never want you to think I’m using you.” The fear returns to his eyes. “That is not my intention.”

My hand flies up to his face. Whereas before, I would never cross the line, something in me just won’t stop it, and the words come out in almost a whisper. “I want to date you, too.”

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MORE ABOUT ONLY ONE KISS

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Ralph
Being traded to Dallas was a dream come true. I had everything I wanted, my game had never been better, and my wife was due to have our baby any day now.

What could go wrong?
Everything.

I was now raising our baby on my own. After hockey practice and games, I didn't have time to sleep, let alone make sure my social media was up to par.

I never thought I'd get a second chance at love.


Candace

When my hotshot brother was drafted in the NHL, he didn't have time to do his social media, so I took over for him. Little did I know it would become my career.

My plate was full with over fifty NHL players, and I wasn't taking on any new clients.

Yet when he showed up on my doorstep with the cutest little girl in the whole world, I couldn't say no.

I was just helping, but it turned into more than that. He's the man I've been waiting for.

All it takes is one touch, one night, one chance, and only one kiss.
​

Pre-Order ONLY ONE KISS NOW!
One-Click HERE for midnight delivery
from Amazon

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MEET AUTHOR NATASHA MADISON

When USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Madison's nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four-inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...

Follow Natasha on Amazon

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NEW SPORTS ROMANCE: Something So Perfect by Natasha Madison

7/30/2017

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What happens when the Bad Boy meets his Match?  
​Find out in Something So Perfect by Natasha Madison sports romance!

EXCERPT 

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“Okay,” Robert starts, “we have your contract here. It’s a one-year contract for two point one million, as per your agent.” He smiles at me because I don’t have an agent. I have Cooper. “We also have the stipulation clause. I know last time you weren’t happy with some of them, but it’s the only way we can both win.” He opens the folder in front of him. “You will be living in a brownstone in Brooklyn.” The page flips over while he continues to read. “Your chaperone will live with you.” He looks up, waiting to see if I’ll say something, and I almost say fuck off. “It’s a three-story brownstone. You each have your own floor to do as you please.”
I nod at him. It isn’t as bad as I thought and maybe me and my roommate will be each other’s wing man. “Your chaperone will be at your side each time you go out. Especially, game day and traveling. Of course you will each have your own room when traveling, but it will be connecting.”
 
“I hope this guy is up for Netflix and working out.” I smile at them, my hand itchy to sign the papers before I call it all off.
 
Doug gets up, going to the phone on the table, pressing a couple of buttons. “Can you come to the conference room, please?” He hangs up right after.
 
“If you mess up even once, your contract is null and void,” Doug says, sitting down just as the door opens and I turn my head to stare at the person who just walked in.
 
“You?” I stand up, looking back at the other people at the table. The chick from the gym walks in, this time wearing black tight pants and a white button-down shirt, rolled up at the wrists. “Is this a joke?”
 
“I can assure you I had the same reaction when I was asked,” she says sternly. “I don’t want this any more than you do, but it is what it is.”
 
“She tried to pick me up yesterday.” I put my hands on my hips, telling the table.
 
“Are you insane?” she huffs out, her voice rising. “You and your anatomy landed on me.” She looks at Doug. “Right in my back.”
 
I roll my eyes at her.
 
“Karrie,” Doug says, looking at her.
 
“What?” She shrugs at him. “He couldn’t even contain himself, and he thinks I tried to pick him up.” She looks at me. “You wish.”
 
I pfft out. “Please, one word and you would have come home with me.” I look at the men in front of me. “You guys can’t be serious.” I then look back at Karrie. “Besides, how old is she? Twelve?”
 
“Pervert. I would have pulled the fire alarm and kicked you in the nuts.” She crosses her arms over her chest, making her tits strain against the buttons. “Either way you would have ended up in the same place. Alone. With bruised nuts.”
 
Robert slaps the table. “That’s enough, you two.” He looks at both of us. “Now, you two have a lot of catching up to do. I will forward you both the travel schedule.” He stands up, grabbing the papers, and slapping me on the shoulder. “Good to have you.”
 
Coach Dan gets up also, smirking at me while I stand here speechless that they allow a girl to chaperone me. Not just any girl, the hottest fucking girl I’ve ever set eyes on. I had to take care of myself three times since I stumbled on her.
 
“You two try not to kill each other.” Dan looks at Karrie. “Be good, sweetheart.” And he kisses her cheek.
 
“Really?” I throw my hands in the air. “Does no one think this is a ridiculous idea?” I look around the room and the only one left is Doug, who gets up.
 
“I think it’s the best thing to ever happen to you.” He walks over to squeeze my shoulder. “But if you make my little girl cry”—he leans in, whispering—“they won’t find your body.”
 
My mouth opens and closes, and then opens again, not a sound coming out.

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MORE ABOUT SOMETHING SO PERFECT 

​Matthew 

Drafted first round pick when I was seventeen, playing first line at eighteen, branded NHL's bad boy at nineteen. At twenty-three I was cut from the team and living back home with my parents. A knock on the door brought an opportunity I couldn’t turn down. All I had to do was prove I learned from my mistakes, so no way would I fall for a chick with a pouty mouth even if I wanted to spend all day devouring it.

Karrie 

When my father gave me a job, I had no idea it would be to babysit some washed up NHL player. He wanted me to be his chaperone, his overpaid babysitter. I thought it was a joke. Then I met him, Matthew Grant. I wasn’t prepared for this particular bad boy. He’s not only hot but he’s arrogant and kinda sweet in a 'you make me crazy' kind of way. 
Basically now that he’s finished screwing up his life, he’s decided to turn mine upside down.


She’s the first thing I’ve ever wanted more than hockey.

He’s the guy I know I should stay away from.

But what if this thing that started out so wrong turns into something so perfect? 

NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon US | UK | CA | iBooks

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When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her. 
​

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Sneak Peek: Tempt the Boss by Natasha Madison

3/15/2017

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Tempt The Boss is coming April 3rd, 2017.
Find out why rules were made to be broken.
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Lauren
I’m singing along to Maroon Five’s “Don’t Wanna Know” when a call comes in. Penelope’s name flashes on the screen. Penelope is my friend from college, the only friend who I kept in touch with. She runs an HR firm that specializes in placing temps. She is the reason I have this job right now. 

“Hello,” I say while I wait for her voice to fill the car.

“Hey, there, just checking in. You ready?” she asks me. I hear her rustling papers in the background, so I know she is already at her desk. 

“Yup, I’m on my way there now. I’m so nervous, I may puke, though. But I’ll be on time.” I chuckle at the thought of me barfing all over my new boss. I brake for the traffic that is slowing to a crawl in front of me when I feel my van jerk forward slightly. My head flies forward and then snaps back. Looking in my mirror, I see that someone just hit me.

“Oh my god. Someone just ran into me. Fuck me, P. I have to call you back,” I say, unlocking my seatbelt and climbing out of the car. 

I put my Tory Birch sunglasses on top of my head, walking to the back to see the damage. I don’t even have time to get there before I hear a raspy voice ask, “What the hell is wrong with you? You just stopped!” I put a hand over my eyes to block the sun and see him. And boy, do I see him. My heart skips a beat when he whips his aviator sunglasses off his face.

He’s about six feet tall, maybe taller, with dark hair that’s short on the sides and a bit longer at the top, which almost looks like it was combed back by his hands. His eyes are a mossy green with shimmery gold flecks in them that I can see thanks to the sun hitting them just right. A freshly-shaven face that shows off the strong angles of his jaw and hints at where I’m sure a five-o’clock-shadow of delicious stubble will emerge in a few hours. 

He’s wearing a suit minus the jacket. His dark blue pants are a perfect fit, molding to him like they were made especially for him, and from the looks of them, they probably were. His crisp, white dress shirt is open at the collar and covers his broad chest and thick biceps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and show off a big, masculine silver Rolex watch. 

He throws his hand up as he angrily asks, “Is something wrong with you? Are you drunk?” 

I take a step back, putting my hand to my stomach. “Are you talking to me?” I look around wondering if there is someone else he could be talking to. “You hit me. You. Hit. Me.” I storm to the back of the car to assess the damage. I see that my bumper is a bit scratched, but his Porsche is going to need some body work. 

“I can’t believe this. I can’t flipping believe this! Now I’m going to be late because you were probably too busy on your phone texting to pay attention to the road.” I walk to my car, opening the door and leaning across the seat to grab my purse. Cars pass us slowly, everyone taking a look to see what’s going on.

Looking at the clock on the dash, I see that I have to be at my new job in twenty minutes. Grabbing my license, registration, and insurance ID card, I slam the door and walk over to see him leaning on the side of my car, watching me. 

“I’m going to be late. Is there any way we can just exchange numbers and get all the information after?” I ask, looking through the papers.

I hear him huff. “You probably don’t have insurance, which is why you want to call me later so you can get some while I drive around with a missing a light.” He walks over to his car, leans down, and grabs his phone from the driver’s seat.

I look at him. “So, you weren’t on the phone? Riiighhhhttt,” I say glaring at him.

“I don’t have all day. Some of us have actual work to do. What do you want from me?” His tone is snarky.

“Actually, I don’t want anything from you. My car has a scratch, yours is the one that is damaged. Besides, it wasn’t even my fault. Maybe we should call the police to make a report so we can get it on the record that you were driving while texting.” I lean my head to the side. “I’m not a police officer or anything, but I think that’s against the law.”

He snarls at me, “Just give me your number.” I tell him my number, and when he asks my name, I gladly tell him. “The woman whose car you hit because you were texting while driving.” He looks at me and his eyebrows pinch together. “Is that name already taken?” I ask him, waiting for his answer. When I realize he isn’t going to reply, I ask him, “Now, what’s yours?” He shoots off his number, and I store it in my phone. 

I turn around to walk away. “Aren’t you going to ask me my name?” He puts his hands on his hips, his biceps bulging and his chest looking impossibly broader.

“Nope, no need. I just put you under ‘Asshat who texts while driving and hit my car.’” I smile at him. “Have a fabulous day,” I grumble, turning around and getting back in the car. 

Fuck. I see that I now have ten minutes to get there. I dial Penelope right after I buckle and take off watching the asshole get into his car. “I think I might still make it,” I tell her even before she says hello.

“It’s okay. I called and told them there was an accident on the way, and they said not to worry, that Austin was going to be late, too. So, you’re still good to go.  How’s the damage?” she asks.

“Minivan: 1 – Porsche: 0.” I laugh and tell her I’ll check back in with her at lunch.

When I finally make it to the office building, I check my face and apply lip gloss one more time before walking inside. I look at my phone and notice that I’m only seven minutes late. Not bad all things considered. I walk in and tell the security guard I am there for Barbara at Mackenzie Jacob Associates. When he calls up, he gets the all clear to send me up. 

I make my way up to the forty-sixth floor and walk to the receptionist, who is smiling from ear-to-ear. “Hi. I’m here to see Barbara. My name is Lauren. I’m the temp,” I explain as she gets up and comes around to shake my hand, introducing herself as Carmen. She then takes me back to meet Barbara. 

Barbara is short with white hair, and her glasses are perched on her nose. “Hey, there, Lauren. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things from Penelope.” She reaches out to shake my hand and motions for me to sit down.

“Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry I’m late. I was in a little fender bender, and I tried to finish as fast as I could,” I tell her, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.

“No worries. I heard Austin was going to be about ten minutes late, but he got here right before you did. Now, if you will fill out these papers here, I will get your elevator pass ready for you,” she says while she goes to her cabinet in the corner.

Because this is just a temp job, I don’t have to do much. Just an emergency contact form. “Now, I should warn you that this is the tenth temp we have hired for this position… this month,” she finishes quickly.

I look at her, confused. “But it’s only the seventeenth of November.” My heart starts racing. What if he throws me out? What if he laughs at me since I haven’t worked in ten years?

“Mr. Mackenzie is, um, well… special to work for,” she murmures while looking down at the papers in front of her and not even trying not make eye contact with me.

“Special? What does that mean?” I ask, my eyebrows pinching together.

“Let’s just say that my money is on you.” She gets up. “Shall we?” She points to the door. I nod at her, trying to get some saliva going in my mouth. It’s dry, and my palms are sweating. I think my armpits are actually starting to sweat, too. Oh boy. I can’t do this. I should turn around and run away.

But before I can make my move, we reach a door that is closed. The big brown door is solid, and the windows that look out into the office have their shades drawn. I hear Barbara knock on the door before we enter.

I don’t see much in front of her. I just look around the office at the view of the city, since there are wall-to-wall windows affording it an amazing view. I don’t have a chance to look much further, because all I hear is a raspy voice asking, “Are you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?” I whip my head around to look at him. 

Just my luck. It’s the asshat from this morning, the one who hit me. Except now, the asshat is sitting behind the desk, the desk that apparently belongs to my new temporary boss.



Austin

I’m already having the shittiest day ever and it’s only fucking eight o’clock. My alarm didn’t wake me at five a.m. like it does every day, so I didn’t have a chance to get my run in before I had to head to work.

Just a quick shower and a coffee before I hurried out. I walked out of my apartment, rushed to the elevator, and ran smack into my ex who, according to her, ‘just happened to be in the area.’ 

It took a lot for me not to roll my eyes at her. She wasn’t in the area; she’s fucking the dude who lives upstairs. Not that I care. I was the one who let her go. Whatever, I blew her off and headed to my car.

Right as I started up my car, my mother decided it was a great day to call and lay out everything that’s wrong with my life. I’m nearing forty; all I have is my career, blah blah blah. Newsflash, Mom, that’s all I want.

So, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I hit a mini bus, or a van, or whatever the hell it’s called. 

I expected a frumpy housewife to get out of the car, but instead I was greeted by a woman who could only be described as sex-on-a-stick, or I guess I should say two sticks, because those legs of hers aren’t something I’ll forget anytime soon. I couldn’t even talk I was so stunned. Then she bent over her seat and presented me with the most perfect ass. I think I actually groaned. 

My cock was getting ready to salute her right then and there as she walked back to me from her minivan. The thought that she was someone’s wife and I was jonesing on her made my skin crawl. I may be an asshole, but I don’t fuck with marriages or people in relationships. There are more than enough single people on earth to not get involved with someone who isn’t. 

I tried to see if she was wearing a ring, but I couldn’t see anything. I took her number, and she rushed away.

The whole way to work, I replayed the scene in my head over and over again. I tried to think back on anything that I could have said that would have had her reacting so hostilely.

I got to the office just four minutes late. I absolutely loathe tardiness; people who are late drive me nuts. I built this company from the ground up. I am now the most sought-after commercial contract developer in the city, especially when it comes to entertainment establishments. If you want to open a restaurant or nightclub in this city, let’s just say I am known widely as the best choice to make sure it happens.

There is never a dull moment in this business. If I have to get in there and swing a hammer or wash the damn glasses myself, I do it. There is nothing I won’t do to protect my and my company’s reputation. If you are opening a restaurant or a nightclub and you attach it to the name Mackenzie Jacob, chances are it’ll be a hit from day one.

So now, here I am walking into my office a few minutes late. The cute new receptionist, Carmen, is batting her eyes at me as I walk in, dragging out her greeting. “Good Morning, Mr. Mackenzie.” She’s new here, so she mustn’t have heard the news yet, but I don’t fuck where I eat. Ever.

“Morning. Is my new temp here yet?” I ask her, getting right to the point as she hands me my messages. A new temp who is yet another thing I didn’t need today. 

Since my secretary retired last month, I’ve gone through six or seven temps…okay, maybe ten. But it’s not all my fault. I can’t take it if they’re stupid and I have to sit there and spell things out for them. I need someone who can take direction, get it right the first time, and just do what I ask the first time I ask it. It’s simple, really.

When I ask you to get me coffee, I’m not asking you to join me for a cup. When I tell you to scan and email something, I don’t need reporting of the task as if you’re waiting for a sticker on your paper. When you have a caller on hold, I don’t need you announcing them to me through the intercom in a singsong voice. I also don’t need you knocking on my door every few minutes to ask me if I need anything. Trust me, when I need something, you’ll be the first one to know. 

“Can you tell Barbara I’m in now?” I prompt her, walking away while I pull the collar from my neck, making my way down the hall toward my corner office. 

I walk into my office, taking in the view of the city. We are on the forty-sixth floor, so I can see the skyline perfectly, and at night, it’s even better. I eat, sleep, and breathe my work. There aren’t set hours for my work. So, if I have to be at the office for fifteen hours a day, then that’s what it takes. Which is why I don’t need, or want, a wife at this point. I’d just let them down.

I’ve lost count of how many relationships I’ve had that have ended because I wasn’t there when I said I would be. I’m married to my work, and she is my first priority.

Sitting in my chair, I start going through the messages. I flip through them, seeing two messages from Vegas. I’m thinking of branching out and opening an office there, but something is stopping me. I like to stay local. I like to show up during construction. I like to pop in when you least expect it, and I wouldn’t be able to do that if I branched out to Vegas.

I’m about to call them back when there is a knock on the door. I don’t even have to tell them to come in before Barbara opens the door. I look over at her. She’s been here from day one, but she isn’t what I’m looking at this morning; it’s the girl behind her.

Fucking unbelievable! This crazy chick followed me to my work. She is probably coming to sue me. I’ll show her. “Are you fucking stalking me? Did you follow me here?” I growl at her while I stand up behind my desk.

Barbara’s face pales and her mouth hangs open, but not the sassy one behind her. “Follow you? Are you insane?” She looks at Barbara. “I can’t do this. I totally understand why you’ve gone through so many temps. Who would work for him?” She shakes her head. “Not only did he hit my car”—she looks at me—“while texting. The first thing he asked was if I was drunk!” She looks back at Barbara, who then glares at me. Great, just great, she’s on crazy chick’s side. “You would think he would ask me if I’m okay, right? Nope, not this guy. He wanted to know if I was drunk at eight a.m. Who the hell drinks at eight am anyway?” She folds her arms under her breasts, unnecessarily pushing them up. Fuck. I can’t stop the mental image of her standing there, arms crossed under her tits, in nothing but her shoes. I shake that thought from my head.

“Wait.” I throw the messages on my desk. “You, you’re my temp?” 

“No, sir,” she says, and fuck me, but does that ever make me want to hold her hands behind her back as I bend her over my desk and pound into her while she calls me sir. “I was your temp.” She looks at Barbara. “I wish you well.” Then she turns and starts walking out the door.

Barbara’s raised voice stops her. “Wait a second!” She looks at me.  “Austin Montgomery Mackenzie, is Lauren telling me that you hit her car and then asked her if she was drunk? I raised you better than that, young man,” she chides in that sharp tone I remember from my childhood. Okay, so Barbara was also my nanny growing up. That was to be expected when you’re the child of world-renowned doctors who jetted around the globe saving lives. One is a cardiologist, and the other is a brain surgeon. They had very little time to raise a child. So, that’s where Barbara came in, and she stayed until I was eighteen. She retired, but when I opened this firm, she was the first one I thought of to handle the HR side of the company, something I knew she would handle far better than me. “Apologize right this second, Austin,” she demands, and I scoff at her. I will not do any such thing.

“She braked suddenly for no reason! There was no one in front of her,” I defend myself. Barbara’s eyebrows pinch together, and she takes her glasses off so they hang on the chain around her neck. I know that if I don’t say sorry, this will just end in her quitting again. Last time, it cost me a month-long Mediterranean cruise. “Fine,” I huff out, “I’m sorry I accused you of being drunk. I should have just called you what you are—a reckless, clueless female driver.” 

Lauren stands there glaring at me as Barbara yells, “I quit!” This must shock Lauren, because she immediately goes to Barbara and strokes her back. “Oh no. No, no, no. Please, really, it’s fine. It’s totally okay. I accept his apology.” She aims a glare at me. “I understand now why so many women left, he’s a...” She leans in and whispers in Barbara’s ear. I don’t know what she says, but they both snicker. Great, just great. 
    
“Yup, my money is on Lauren.” She looks at me. “You’re lucky she saved you this time.” She smiles at Lauren. “Let’s do lunch tomorrow. Austin’s treat.” 

She leaves the room leaving us all alone. “Fine. I guess I’ll try and work with you, for Barbara.” She walks out to the desk facing my office. She puts her purse on it. Turning the computer on, she grabs a pen and notepad and comes back in. “No time like the present to get this out of the way, so why don’t we start with your expectations of me?”

I look at her while she sits in the chair in front of me, crossing her legs at her ankles. I sit down, leaning back in my chair, and start rocking. “Okay, fine. I expect you to be on time. Every day. No exceptions.”

She doesn’t write it down. “That isn’t a problem. I hate when people are late, so you don’t have to worry about that. Unless, of course, irresponsible people hit my car while I’m innocently driving, I’ll be here on time.”

“There is a list on your desk of routine tasks required of this position that you can read. If it’s not clear enough, then come ask me questions. How’s that?” 

She gets up. “That sounds like a plan.” She turns to walk away, and I watch her. Every fucking step she takes she swings her hips; the best thing is, she has no idea she’s doing it. She has no idea that I’m sitting here negotiating with myself about my own rule. I’m not sure how I’m going to get anything done, because fucking her on my desk is the only thing I can think of that needs to be done right now. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆

MORE About Tempt the Boss

​Lauren
Going back to work was supposed to be a painless transition, but when my new boss turns out to be an arrogant, cocky jerk, he quickly turns my professional life into a world of torture. Okay, fine, calling him an asshat before knowing he was my boss wasn't my finest moment. Hating him should be easy. I just never counted on him being so gorgeous or charming when he's not annoying me.

Austin
I expected my new assistant to be professional and punctual, but all I'm getting are dirty looks and rude comments. I should fire the little hellion, but instead all I can think about is bending her over my desk and breaking every rule I've ever made for myself.

One look. One touch. One night. If we break the rules, our lives will never be the same again. 

Good thing rules were made to be broken. And besides, it feels so good to Tempt the Boss.



Coming April 3rd!
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When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...


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