Publication date: August 19th, 2021
Synopsis:
Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow returns with a laugh-out-loud wild office romance where two total opposites fight to deny their perfect chemistry.
I've caught a raging case of bosshole.
Signing on as a company driver for Brandt Ideas felt like a dream.
Big-girl salary. Stellar benefits. Glorious people--minus one.
Nicholas Brandt was put on Earth to drive me insane.
Of course, he's my bossman.
He spent the first month mistaking me for a dude.
Then he "apologized" with the grace of a drunken moose.
A perfect grump with a brutal reputation.
A heart-thief sculpted like a fallen angel.
A master at making me question all of my life decisions.
Why is it always the terrible ones who make a girl tingle?
The longer I'm stuck with Satan in endless Chicago traffic, the faster he wears me down.
When he needs a "date" at this rich-people charity dance, I crack.
I say yes.
I kiss my incurable, broken, off-limits boss--and God help me, I like it.
I invite disasters fated to rip my heart out.
And just when Nick Brandt can't cut my life into tinier confetti, the unthinkable does.
Guess who wants to save me.
Now guess how much barbed wire I've got to keep Mr. Anti-Perfect in exile...
Full-length enemies-to-lovers romance overflowing with hilarious quips, teary-eyed twists, and slow-burn steam that sizzles off the pages. A magnificently bad-tempered boss pursues his spitfire driver in a knock down, claiming, need-you-to-live whirlwind to the Happily Ever After.
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Excerpt
I'm in the arms of Chicago's hottest billionaire bad boy. Only, he's no bad boy, no scandalicious ticket to tabloid-worthy misadventures.
He's morphed into Prince Charming. He's too well-behaved.
I'm scared.
"Hey, Nick?" I whisper.
"Yeah?" His warm minty scent tickles my nostrils, a rich cologne tinged with a hint of his sweat and heady testosterone.
"What's really going on?"
He looks down at me, his head tilted. "What do you mean? Last I checked, you lied about how much you suck at dancing, Reese. Everybody's watching us and they love it."
Not what I'm getting at.
I'm about to ask what I'm really here for tonight and why, because it's obvious to me there's more going on here.
This doesn't add up, and it's not my paranoia speaking.
Yes, I'm playing a part--his fake date.
I'm here, spinning in this beautiful ballroom, hanging on his arm. I'm not even freaking out as we fade into each other, as he enthralls me a little more with every breath, or when people start aiming their phones at us for pictures.
But this isn't what we're here for. I'm guessing everyone in this room has an opinion of Nick Brandt, one way or another. We're not here to impress them.
Who, then? What? Why?
Before I can ask, the lights go lower. The dancing turns infectious, and we're surrounded by gently twisting bodies, happy couples glued to each other's eyes and following his lead. Our lead.
A few of those couples wear their desire, their love, full of longing looks and knowing glances and wandering hands.
Oh, God.
Maybe it's the atmosphere or maybe it's his smell, but before I know what I'm doing, I've leaned my head on his chest. And then I'm just lost in the moment, his willing captive, too overwhelmed for words when his thick hand caresses my face.
His fingers dip under my chin, urging me up to a beautiful doom.
It's in those eyes. They glow like soft green stars, intense and urgent, asking a silent question--or is it a demand?
What will you do, Miss Halle? I hear him saying in my head. What will you do if I take that mouth right here? Right now?
My toes scrunch up in my shoes. Our movement slows, our eyes lock, our breaths turn heavy.
And when his gorgeous face sweeps down, so ready to devour me, I don't even have a prayer.
Our lips collide like they're opening a portal to another world, hot and wet and wild.
He tastes as good as he looks.
He deepens his kiss, drinking me in with a muffled groan.
He swipes his tongue in my mouth, chasing me, swinging between a litany of teases and filthy, claiming strokes.
The nip of teeth against my bottom lip makes me squeak--but holy flipping bossman, I don't care.
All the tension that's been choking us for months--all the magnetism since the day he truly met me as a woman at that office pizza party--boils up my throat and into my fingers.
I'm clinging to him, moaning, soaked and wanting and too stunned for words. He gives back a guttural noise that's too much like the sound I imagine he'd make inside me.
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.
