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Conor:
It starts with a drunken text pic. The kind I would normally never send. Only, instead of it going to the flirty hotel bartender, it goes to some random stranger who actually responds.
I tell myself an unexpected night of hot as hell back-and-forth is the perfect way to blow off a little steam while I’m in New York closing an important business deal. Little do I know the man on the other end of the line is none other than Wells Grange: the most controlling, egotistical, emotionless SOB I’ve ever met.
I spend my days squaring off against Wells in the boardroom, and my nights succumbing to the sexy stranger’s commanding texts in the bedroom. Within days, I’m falling for someone I shouldn’t, and I have to remind myself that none of this is real.
Wells:
The first thing I notice about Conor Newell when he sits down in my high-rise conference room is how delightfully nervous he is. Then I see his tie. The same geeky tie that’s held hostage on my phone. The one that belongs to my anonymous late-night texter. And it changes everything.
I should confess. Tell the truth about who I am. Instead, I decide there’s no harm in flirting. After all, once our business is concluded, he’ll be out of my life for good.
The more I get to know Conor, however, the more I start to fall for him. Which is a problem, because I made a vow long ago to never let emotions interfere with my life, either business or personal. Except I can’t stop thinking about him night and day. If it’s only in my head, though, it doesn’t count.
After all, it’s not like we’re falling for each other in real life...
9 pages, Audible Audio
First published February 5, 2019

["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*Expected A Bit More*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
“Tall, dark, and handsome?” I squeaked. “Little intimidating? Scowly, but in an ohmygod kind of way?”
Shut up. Shut up.
Before I had the chance to describe the tiny mole below the edge of the man’s lip, the barest hint of a laugh line appeared next to one of the receptionist’s eyes.
“Might it be Mr. Grange himself?”
Wellington Archibald Grange the Third. The scariest motherfucker to ever be considered a corporate raider.
The man my mother despised with every ounce of her disease-riddled body. The man who wanted to gobble up my mother’s life’s work like it was a generic box of bran cereal and shit out a shoddy version of it to sick people in need at a staggering upcharge.
Everything around me froze; even the sounds from the street traffic vanished. I read the message again in case I’d misread it the first time.
Stupidly, I felt my chin begin to wobble. I looked up at the crowds on the sidewalk. There were couples and families, groups of friends and people chatting animatedly on their phones. It was one of those moments where it seemed that everyone had someone in their lives but me.
But what had I really expected would happen? Where could things with Trace have ever gone? Trying to have any of my relationship needs met by some random stranger in a city hundreds of miles away from where I lived was ridiculous. He could be married for all I knew. Or a criminal. Or prefer DC over Marvel. I felt a gurgle of disgust escape my throat. I was pathetic.
By putting expectations on my sexy stranger after a couple of texts, I was grasping at straws.
He spoke of his own family, his European mother and his American father who’d met in college in Massachusetts before starting their family in Greenwich, Connecticut.
“Your dad’s an investment banker, right?” I asked.
Wells nodded. “He’s worked on Wall Street since before I was born. Not sure he’ll ever retire. The man’s a workaholic.”
I stared at him. “Pot, meet kettle…”
Wells snorted softly and looked away.
“Why me?” I asked, turning to face him. “Am I just convenient?” […]
“You listen to me, Conor Newell. I’ve wanted you from the moment you stepped into my conference room […]. It’s taken every ounce of my self-control not to come on to you these past two days, and even now I know this is a tremendous mistake. But I can’t stay away from you. I can’t stop needing you. Trust me when I say you are the opposite of convenient.”

Feeling him wrapped completely around my body, arms and legs, was the closest I’d ever come to knowing what home meant. And that scared the fuck out of me.