Six Month Rule
by AJ Pine
Kingston Ale House #2
Publication Date: July 11, 2016
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Select, Romance
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SYNOPSIS:
The second I met Will Evans in his three-piece suit with that hot as hell British accent, I wanted him.
That is…until he insulted my shoes and stole my corner office.
Now I have to work side-by-side with the surly British arsehole who just set my career back six months.
It’s
fine. That accent won’t get to me, no matter how sexy it sounds when he
asks permission to do things professionals shouldn’t do. On the couch.
In the corner office I still wish was mine.
Maybe
we can’t keep our hands off each other, but I’m sure as hell not
falling for a guy who lives an ocean away. Because in six months, he’s
leaving for good.
I don’t do broken hearts, but you know what they say…
There’s a first time for everything.
EXCERPT:
Holly’s eyes trailed from the soft, black leather of the loafer to the cuff of the slate-colored pants expertly cut to fit these legs and these legs only. Then there was the jacket and vest, same color, each buttoned snug over a lean, taut torso. Holly thanked the stars, every last constellation, for perfectly tailored suits. And vests. What was it about a man in a vest?
“Thank you.”
Holly’s head shot up to see the words directed at an older woman whose finger depressed the door-open button. The voice was deep and buttercream smooth. And was
that…an English accent?
Her ovaries might have just gone supernova, but she could hold it together for one more floor. Holly Chandler wasn’t a girl to lose it in an elevator, no matter how much those two words, spoken in that voice, with that accent, melted her insides.
This drought was going to kill her. Maybe another go with Charlie wasn’t the worst idea.
When the circle of white light lit up the number five, Holly let out a long breath. The doors opened, and she exited with all the other folk who were on their way to a caffeine
boost. As she did, she caught Mr. Ferragamo checking out her four-inch peep-toe booties, and a surge of confidence jolted her back to the Holly she knew she was.
“Like what you see?” she asked, stopping to glance down the length of her own legs to where his eyes still rested. This brought his head up with a snap, and a dark wave tumbled
onto his forehead before he finger-combed it back into place.
He cleared his throat. “You pull off last season’s design well enough, but I’d have gone for the red,” he said, and those words, despite the velvet ribbon they were tied up in, pieced her insides right back together.
Holly smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle from her dress as she brushed past him, ovaries once again intact.
“Ass,” she muttered under her breath, and then let the promise of a hazelnut double pump patch up the tiny puncture in her bubble. Of course she could pull off last season’s design. She could rock the hell out of last season’s freaking design, because all she could afford right now were the free samples. But in less than an hour that would all change. The first thing she would buy with her new salary would be next season’s Jimmy Choos. But they sure as hell would not be red.
“Thank you.”
Holly’s head shot up to see the words directed at an older woman whose finger depressed the door-open button. The voice was deep and buttercream smooth. And was
that…an English accent?
Her ovaries might have just gone supernova, but she could hold it together for one more floor. Holly Chandler wasn’t a girl to lose it in an elevator, no matter how much those two words, spoken in that voice, with that accent, melted her insides.
This drought was going to kill her. Maybe another go with Charlie wasn’t the worst idea.
When the circle of white light lit up the number five, Holly let out a long breath. The doors opened, and she exited with all the other folk who were on their way to a caffeine
boost. As she did, she caught Mr. Ferragamo checking out her four-inch peep-toe booties, and a surge of confidence jolted her back to the Holly she knew she was.
“Like what you see?” she asked, stopping to glance down the length of her own legs to where his eyes still rested. This brought his head up with a snap, and a dark wave tumbled
onto his forehead before he finger-combed it back into place.
He cleared his throat. “You pull off last season’s design well enough, but I’d have gone for the red,” he said, and those words, despite the velvet ribbon they were tied up in, pieced her insides right back together.
Holly smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle from her dress as she brushed past him, ovaries once again intact.
“Ass,” she muttered under her breath, and then let the promise of a hazelnut double pump patch up the tiny puncture in her bubble. Of course she could pull off last season’s design. She could rock the hell out of last season’s freaking design, because all she could afford right now were the free samples. But in less than an hour that would all change. The first thing she would buy with her new salary would be next season’s Jimmy Choos. But they sure as hell would not be red.
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