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EXCERPT REVEAL – We Shouldn’t by Vi Keeland
Read a short sneak peek from chapter two below or grab the full, first two chapters here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/qi0wfckd79
Figures.
It was the gorgeous guy I’d seen in the elevator. And here I thought we’d had a little spark.
Bennett Fox grinned like he’d already been named my boss and extended his hand. “Welcome to Foster Burnett.”
Ugh. He wasn’t just good looking; he knew it, too.
“That would be Foster, Burnett and Wren, as of a few weeks ago, right?” I iced my subtle reminder that this was now our place of employment with a smile, suddenly thankful my parents had made me wear braces until I was nearly sixteen.
“Of course.” My new nemesis smiled just as brightly. Apparently his parents had sprung for orthodontic care, too.
Bennett Fox was also tall. I once read an article that said the average height of a man in the US was five-foot-nine-and-a-half inches; less than fifteen percent of men stood taller than six feet. Yet the average height of more than sixty-eight percent of Fortune 500 CEOs was over six feet. Subconsciously, we related size to power in more ways than just brawn.
Andrew was six foot two. I’d guess this guy was about the same.
Bennett pulled out the guest chair next to him. “Please, have a seat.”
Tall and with gentlemanly manners. I disliked him already.
During the ensuing twenty-minute pep talk given by Jonas Stern—in which he attempted to convince us we weren’t vying for the same position, but instead forging the way as leaders of the now-largest ad agency in the United States—I stole glances at Bennett Fox.
Shoes: definitely expensive. Conservative, oxford in style, but with a modern edge of topstitching. Ferragamo would be my guess. Big feet, too.
Suit: dark navy, tailored to fit his tall, broad frame. The kind of understated luxury that said he had money, but didn’t need to flaunt it to impress you.
He had one long leg casually crossed over the other knee, as if we were discussing the weather rather than being told everything we’d worked twelve hours a day, six days a week for was suddenly at risk of being in vain.
At one point, Jonas had said something we both agreed with, and we looked at each other, nodding. Given the opportunity for a closer inspection, my eyes roamed his handsome face. Strong jaw, daringly straight, perfect nose—the type of bone structure passed down from generation to generation that was better and more useful than any monetary inheritance. But his eyes were the showstopper: a deep, penetrating green that popped from his smooth, tanned skin. Those were currently staring right at me.
I looked away, returning my attention to Jonas. “So what happens at the end of the ninety-day integration period? Will there be two Creative Directors of West Coast Marketing?”
Jonas looked back and forth between us and sighed. “No. But no one is going to lose his or her job. I was just about to tell Bennett the news. Rob Gatts announced he’ll be retiring in a few months. So there will be a position opening up for a creative director to replace him.”
I had no idea what that meant. But apparently Bennett did.
“So one of us gets shipped off to Dallas to replace Rob in the southwest region?” he asked.
Jonas’s face told me Bennett wouldn’t be happy about the prospect of heading to Texas. “Yes.”
All three of us let that sink in for a moment. The possibility of having to relocate to Texas shifted my mind back into gear, though.
“Who will make the decision?” I asked. “Because obviously you’ve been working with Bennett…”
Jonas shook his head and waved off what I was beginning to question. “Decisions like this—where two senior management positions are being merged into one office—the board will oversee and make the final determination of who gets first pick.”
Bennett was just as confused as me. “The board members don’t work with us on a daily basis.”
“No, they don’t. So they’ve come up with a method of making their decision.”
“Which is?”
“It’ll be based on three major client pitches. You’ll both come up with campaigns on your own and present them. The clients will pick which they like best.”
Bennett looked rattled for the first time. His perfect composure and self-assuredness took a hit as he leaned forward and raked long fingers through his hair.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. More than ten years, and my job here comes down to a few pitches? I’ve landed half-a-billion dollars of ad accounts for this company.”
“I’m sorry, Bennett. I really am. But one of the conditions of the Wren merger was that due consideration be given to the Wren employees in positions that might be eliminated because of duplicity. The deal almost didn’t go through because Mrs. Wren was so insistent that she not sell her husband’s company, only to have the new organization strip away all of Wren’s hard-working employees.”
That made me smile. Mr. Wren was taking care of his employees even after he was gone.
“I’m up for the challenge.” I looked at Bennett, who was clearly pissed off. “May the best woman win.”
He scowled. “You mean man.”
★★★★★
We hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of We Shouldn’t!
WANT MORE? You can grab the full first two chapters here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/qi0wfckd79
SYNOPSIS:
Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning.
I was late for the first day at my new job—a job I’d now have to compete for even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger.
While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons.
She’d ticketed a long line of cars—except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine.
Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.Chances were, the owner would pay it and be none the wiser.
Except, I accidentally broke the windshield wiper while slipping the ticket onto the car’s window.
Seriously, my day couldn’t get any worse.
Things started to perk up when I ran into a gorgeous man in the elevator.We had one of those brief moments that only happened in movies.
You know the deal…your body lights up, fireworks go off, and the air around you crackles with electricity.
His heated stare left me flush when I stepped off the elevator.
Maybe things here wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Or so I thought.
Until I walked into my new boss’s office and met my competition.
The gorgeous man from the elevator was now my nemesis. His heated stare wasn’t because of any mutual attraction.It was because he’d saw me vandalize his car. And now he couldn’t wait to annihilate his rival.
There’s a fine line between love and hate—and we shouldn’t cross it.
We shouldn’t—but straddling that line could be so much fun.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Vi Keeland
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over a hundred Bestseller lists and are currently translated in two dozen languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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The Naked Truth
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![Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00072]](https://northshoreauthorsigning.files.wordpress.com/2018/05/egomaniac.jpg?w=130&h=195)
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Life on Stage series (2 Standalone Books)
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Throb
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Beat
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Worth the Fight
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Belong to You
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Hate Notes
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Rebel Heir
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British Bedmate
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Stuck-Up Suit
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Playboy Pilot
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![Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00072]](https://northshoreauthorsigning.files.wordpress.com/2018/05/left-behind.jpg?w=130&h=195)
By:Vi Keeland & Dylan Scott
Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)
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EXCERPT REVEAL ~ Dirty Headlines by L.J. Shen
Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from USA Today bestselling
author L.J. Shen is coming September 7th and we have the first sneak peek!
Célian Laurent.
Manhattan royalty.
Notorious playboy.
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.
I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Brooklyn girl.
Infamously quirky.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I.
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the white flag.
Excerpt:
He had an American accent. Not French. American. Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I couldn’t listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I had to deal with that—hopefully for a very long time, because I desperately needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my gaze shot from Célian’s face to Grayson.
His forehead had crumpled into a frown. “You look like you’re trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. I’m hoping for you that it’s the latter and some kind of a weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?”
I nodded, scraping up a smile. “Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a second.”Lies. I was about to orgasm just remembering how good Célian had felt parting my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on everyone’s heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was something worse than hearing Célian speak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. “Am I understood, Gregory?” he asked.
Gregory?
“Crystal clear, sir,” Grayson bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.
Célian jerked his chin toward me. “Your cover girl material is going downhill.”
God. Damn. Bastard.
He recognized me, and I knew it. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
“Jude Humphry. Junior reporter. It’s her first day,” Grayson highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized I’d told Célianmy last name was Spears. Well, he certainly wasn’t a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only encounter—a raging playboy.
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum. You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for ruining my panties in public, and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there were at least fifty people in the room. Célian—if that was even his name—ignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man beside him. “Mathias, any other words of wisdom?”
Mathias? Wasn’t that his father? Just how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
“I think you touched everything,” said the big boss—and he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed. Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I shared on my face.
Célian spun toward me, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. “Accounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture is excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog. Miss Humphry?” He snapped his fingers impatiently.
He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing I’d chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
Bone, boner—same difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would but I still have a life to live.
I followed Célian down the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked “Out!” to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of us.
Two feet of empty space between us.
About LJ Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people’s’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
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