Like a F*cking Boss by Quinn
Description
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About the author:
Quinn lives in a house that never stays clean, no matter how much she wishes it would. She also writes sweet, contemporary romance, romantic comedy, and chick lit under a different pen name.
What inspired you to write your book?
I wanted to write about a curvy, confident woman. Talia Newman knows she’s big and beautiful. She also knows what she wants in her life. I like heroines who gets shit done, who has quirks, sass, and a filthy mind.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Struggling not to fiddle with my skirt or my hair, I wait until I get the shitstorm that’s about to rain down on me. Mr. Solomon closes the door behind Lyra, then takes the chair at the head of the rectangular table. The chair groans underneath his weight. Its wide back barely matches the broadness of his shoulders. He unbuttons his suit jacket, and the panels slide beside him, exposing a crisp white shirt and a plain, dark blue, skinny tie. His impeccable manner, the way he carries himself—relaxed, yet powerful and authoritative—and the fact that he wears what could be a real diamond tiepin should impress me, but something else catches my attention.
Underneath those sleek navy trousers is one hell of an impressive boner.
What’s more shocking though is that he doesn’t seem to be hiding it. Mr. Solomon is proud of not-so-little Solomon straining the zip of his pants. I catch a moan between my teeth, but I tamp down any notion that his hard-on is for me. After all, he and Ingrid were practically all over each other just moments ago.
“Sit down.” Even though his voice is low, barely audible, it has a commanding tone.
On your lap? I want to ask, but I shake my head instead, saying out loud, “I’d rather stand.” If he’s going to fire me, I would much prefer staying upright and not have to fight with the hem of my skirt after he’s done with whatever he wants to say.
I hold my chin high, defiant, proud, and our gazes lock once more. There’s a twitch on his jaw, and somehow that calms my nerves. Maybe he’s as uncomfortable as I am.
“I don’t tolerate tardiness, Miss—“
“Talia. Talia Newman,” I supply.
“Well, Miss Talia Newman, I’m a busy man, and I make it to all my meetings on time.”
I clear my throat. “I didn’t mean to be late. I had an incident at the tac—restaurant and well, this—“ I wave my hand at the dildo-shaped taco stain. “And some guy tried to run over me.”
“He didn’t try to run you over, you were jay-walking.”
What the friggin’ hell? “How did you–?” My hands fly to my hips, but I check my attitude and drop them down again.
Theodore Solomon looks over his shoulder to the windows. “I saw the whole thing.”
“You could see me from all the way up here?” It’s possible. We are only twenty floors up. Also, it’s not hard to spot my fuchsia skirt from afar. People on Mars could see it.
He returns his gaze to me and rubs his angular jaw. “I see all.”
Whatever the fuck that means. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the effect of his stare. He looks like he could swallow me whole. His tongue, darting out between his lips, catches my attention. That simple action’s effect on me is instantaneous. I might as well take off my panties, as they’ve become soaked and uncomfortable. His words take on a whole different meaning. Can he see me tremble under his gaze? Can he see me squirm? Can he see my heart beating thunderously, threatening to rip through my ribcage?
I swallow to push down the lump in my throat and find my voice again. “Is there anything else, Mr. Solomon?” A lap dance? Some head? I mentally roll my eyes at myself. He’s with Ingrid. Daddy issues or not, they make a better couple than he and I ever would.
“That’s all, Miss Newman. And please, call me Theo. If you’d been on time, you would know that I prefer an informal greeting.” We stare each other down for a few seconds more until I falter under the heat of his fiery gaze. Powerful. I’m drawn to it. Then my eyes drop to his hand, which blatantly adjusts his erection. Fuck. Turning away, I quietly exhale a ragged breath, and show him my second-best assets before walking toward the door.
I add an extra sway in my hips. He may be unavailable, but my second name is Flirt, and I’m not always afforded a chance to do this to a hunky boss. He’ll have to get used to me ogling him every now and then. The chair creaks behind me, and in no time at all, he’s standing beside me, hand on the door’s handle, on top of mine. This close, I see the gold flecks in his light brown eyes and get a whiff of the mint on his breath. This close, the warmth of his body sharpens his manly scent.
A surge of current sizzles up my arms, and spread throughout my nerve endings. My nipples tighten. My pussy lips tingle. I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall. His lush lips call to me. I inch forward, holding my breath in.
Mr. Solomon—Theo—the hot bastard that he is, slides his hand away from mine and pushes open the door, causing me to lose my balance. Instead of my lips falling on his, I smack on the hallway floor. My non-prescription glasses skitter across the hallway. When I hear an audible rip of fabric, I don’t think twice to slap my hands on my hips and ass.
I might be imagining things, but I’m pretty sure I hear a groan behind me, followed by, “Shit, are you all right?” Large hands reach down to help me up.
I rarely blush, but this moment is too embarrassing not to make me redden. Pushing his hands away, I gather my bearings and make it upright. My hand returns to my behind, where there is now a lovely tear on my skirt, and I raise the other one to stop him. “Please, you’ve done enough.”
He picks up my glasses, and I snatch them away. “My hand slipped.” Is he fucking kidding me?
Eyebrows up to my hairline, I shoot him an unimpressed look, and my hackles rise when the corners of his lips quirk. He’s fucking laughing at me. Bastard. I narrow my eyes at him, itching to choke him with his skinny tie. He tugs at his jacket lapels and buttons up. If he says anything else I will prick him with his tiepin.
Theo clears his throat. “Send me the bill for when you get your skirt repaired.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. And embarrass myself more? Silver lining: at least now he can’t fire me. Somehow I make my way back to my workstation without further embarrassing myself, but only then do I feel the pain in my jaw from grinding my teeth.
“Are you okay?” Momentarily, I don’t realize Sheila is asking me the question.
“Yeah, all good. Not fired.” I give her a thumbs up and thank the heavens that my chair has full back coverage, and I won’t have to explain what happened to my skirt to Sheila or anyone else who would pass by. All that’s left is to figure out how to get out of here at quitting time with my dignity still intact…if I’ve any left after that horrifying moment.
I must say though, after three months of working for this company, this has to be one of the most exciting afternoons yet. Reaching for my phone, I make a note to Google Theodore Solomon. I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect Lyra has access to all our computers and any searches we make online. I can’t risk letting her know my interest on the new CEO. Dropping my phone back into my purse, I ponder at my own thoughts. Am I interested in the new CEO? If so, why? Aside from the obvious—hot, rich and hung like a horse–he’s not my type. According to my dating history, I prefer men who are constantly broke and cheaters, which is why I’ve had a dry spell for months.
No, I must get him out of my head. Nothing good will come of it. I look over to my right shoulder and see Ingrid at her desk, poised like a princess on her throne. Even the way she thinks, tapping her pen on her chin, is elegant. Can’t compete with that. There’s no sense mulling about Theo anymore.
With a deep inhale, I am convinced I’m cleansed of all carnal thoughts pertaining to Theodore Solomon, CEO of ARC Industries LTD, sharp dresser, and one sexy ass bastard with a big cock.
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