Enjoy the first two chapters of How to Date Your Boss: A steamy, snarky contemporary office romance.
Nora and Andrew's story had been marinating in my brain for a long time before I had the courage to put it down on paper and then out in the world. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Especially the steamy parts. Let me know in the comments what you loved and what left you wanting more! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
If you end up picking up a copy, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Book Bub. I use those comments to help with future books.
Now Enjoy!!
Chapter 1
“So that’s it then. You’re just kicking me out. Just like that?” Nora Ridgeway stood in her kitchen, hands on hips, staring incredulously at the man she’d just spent a year of her life with. A man currently trying to break-up with her.
“I told you, you have two weeks to find somewhere else to live. I’m not just dumping you on the street,” Phillip DeGlass countered.
“Two weeks—like you’re firing me from a job. How generous,” she rolled her eyes adding under her breath, “and impersonal.”
“Come on, Nora, we both knew this was coming. Let’s not be dramatic.”
“Knew it was coming?” her eyes snapped back to his face. “Do I seem like I knew it was coming?” Her mad kicked up now that the initial shock had worn off. “Sure, we’ve both been a little busy lately—you more so than me, now that I think about it. But really, Phillip, we never even discussed this. Don’t you think our relationship deserves at least that before you just up and end it without any discussion?”
He sighed dramatically. An indication, she knew, that he had made his decision already and expected her to just fall in line and follow his directive.
“What is there to say? We’ve grown apart. Why drag it out?”
“Grown apart? If you had asked, I would have defined it as,” she waved her hand searching for a phrase, “relaxing comfortably into a relationship.” She paced across the kitchen. “But you didn’t ask. You decided we weren’t a suitable match and that’s it.” Nora stopped moving and stared at him, tears filling her eyes. “How can you just throw away an entire year? How can you just walk away like this is nothing more than a business deal gone bad? Without even talking to me about it first or trying to find a way to make it work?”
He ran his fingers through his hair—a gesture she used to find sexy and endearing, but now made her want to tear out that glossy mane strand by strand. “Nora—” he sighed her name like she was a petulant child. That dried those tears right up. She was pissed again.
“Did you ever love me? For real? Or was I just a convenient accessory to have around the house? A necessary addition to your ever important ‘image’? No,” she held up a hand to ward off his answer. “Don’t answer. I don’t want a placating lie, and I think I already know the truth.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and she almost, almost believed him.
“Yeah, well, fuck you. I’ll be out before the two weeks.”
“Take your time. I’m going on a business trip, so I won’t be here anyway,” he said.
“Isn’t that convenient,” she muttered.
He actually had the gall to look at his watch. “I leave tonight.” Her mouth dropped open. “I thought it would be easier this way.”
She picked her jaw off the floor to say, “Easier for who? For you? Well don’t worry, I won’t be here when you get back.” Annoyance now undercut her original hurt and anger. How had she ever thought she loved this hard man?
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Truly.” He reached for her then, to pull her in for a hug, but she stepped back and held out her hand to shake instead. If he wanted to treat her like nothing more than an impersonal business deal instead of someone he was supposed to have loved and cared about, then so be it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of falling apart in his arms.
That would be later. With a pint of ice cream.
Or two.
He winced as he took her hand in both of his. “Nora, don’t be like this. We can still be friends.”
She snorted. “I don’t think so. Good luck with the rest of your life. I’m sorry this merger didn’t work out,” Nora said. She tried hard not to remember the way his warm, strong hands felt on the rest of her.
Phillip brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. She ignored the small pang that ran through her and focused on the wall above his shoulder. “I do care about you, Nora. I wish you all the happiness, I just don’t think I’m the one to give it to you.”
She shrugged and slowly pulled her hand out of his. “Gee, and here I thought I was happy. Thanks for deciding for me that I was wrong.”
He sighed again and walked to the front door grabbing a suitcase and briefcase on the way.
“I’ll be home next Friday.”
“Then I won’t be,” she called from the kitchen.
“Good-bye, Nora.” Without another glance, he walked out the door shutting it between them with a click Nora was sure she would remember for the rest of her life.
“Safe travels, jack ass,” she shouted at the closed door. Now what?
Now she was single and, essentially, homeless. It wouldn’t take her long to pack her few belongings. He owned all the furniture, décor, kitchen supplies, dishes, bath towels, bedding… Just the thought of all the things she didn’t have sent her into another mood.
Walking through the house and smashing all his things would certainly make her feel better, but he’d be just enough of a prick to sue her for damages. Not worth it in the long run.
But damn, it would have felt so good. Maybe she could break just one thing…
She went to the kitchen and took out a bowl that wasn’t hers and a spoon that wasn’t hers and prepared to eat a lot of ice cream on the comfy living room sofa that wasn’t hers. At least she could watch whatever the hell she wanted on the TV that wasn’t hers without being berated by Phillip. He didn’t believe in mindless TV. Not stimulating enough or some other such nonsense.
But, of course, they were out of ice cream. She closed the freezer, then opened it again hoping that some would magically appear. No luck. That’s how her life had been going lately.
Loading up on break-up essentials definitely necessitated a trip to the grocery store. Break-up. She sighed and leaned against the fridge. Yup. She had just been dumped. By the man whom she thought she was in love with, and whom she thought loved her. The bastard. He probably had someone else already—upgrading to a more sophisticated or prettier model.
That was why he wanted her out of the house, and his life, so quickly. Double bastard. Nora pushed herself off the fridge. And he knew—he knew—she had nowhere to go, limited funds, and practically no belongings. Triple bastard.
“Not mine,” she said, pointing at the kitchen table on her way to the front door.
“Not mine.” The bar stools by the counter.
“Not mine.” The pillows on the couch.
“Not mine.” The rug on the floor.
“And not mine,” this she said with a little hitch in her voice as she picked up a picture of the two of them at the beach taken just a few months ago. She was looking up at him smiling. He was looking at the camera with his arm draped casually over her shoulder. She thought they were so happy. Was he already done with her then? She pulled the picture closer to her face to see if she detected anything in Phillip’s gaze. Hard to tell since sunglasses hid his eyes. Not that they were ever especially expressive.
She blinked away the memory and the tear that threatened to emerge, grabbed her keys from the bowl on the table by the door that wasn’t hers. A triple bastard was not worth tears.
Maybe not worth the tears, but she would be fooling herself if she thought they wouldn’t come later. Even though he was a hard, unfeeling douche canoe, she had just had her heart broken unexpectedly.
But first, ice cream.
She headed to her car—her car!—and, as if the spirits were finally on her side, found “Survivor” on the radio and cranked the volume. Beyoncé sang to her soul. She belted it out on her way to the grocery store.
Her phone rang as she wandered through the chip aisle. Her heart dropped when caller ID showed it wasn’t Phillip. You do not want to talk to him anyway, dummy, she scolded herself. Her finger hovered over the “end call” button to send it to voice mail. As much as she loved her college roommate and best friend, Essix Miller had a sixth sense about Nora’s moods. Maybe it was because they had spent almost every waking - and sleeping, come to think of it - moment together for seven years. Four years through college and then three years post.
Until Six had moved to Maryland to be closer to her aging parents, and Nora had moved to North Carolina with Phillip.
She decided to answer. She really should vent her frustration to more than just the nacho chips in her hand.
“Hey, Six,” she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster. Exactly zero.
“Uh-oh. I know that tone,” Six said as a way of greeting. “What happened? Another rejection letter? Don’t give up. Didn’t J.K. Rowling get rejected like 47 times before Harry Potter made her a bazillionaire?” Six’s voice wrapped her in familiarity. The ache in Nora’s chest eased just a little.
“Only 12 times for J.K.,” she sighed. “No, I got a different kind of rejection. A two-week notice.”
“You lost your job?” Six asked.
“No, a two-week notice on my relationship,” Nora said.
“I don’t follow,” Six said. Nora explained about Phillip.
“What an asshole!” Six said, when Nora was finished. “He just left for his trip? He didn’t even give you a say in it at all? Who does that?” Six’s outrage on her behalf helped Nora justify her own feelings.
“Yeah, so now I’m at the grocery store using his money to buy break-up essentials,” Nora said throwing a 6-pack of chocolate bars into the cart.
“Don’t forget the ice cream,” Six warned.
“On it,” Nora said. “I guess this will give me the kick in the pants I need to actually get a life. First, I need to find a place to live, though.”
“Did you check your horoscope today?” Six asked.
Nora laughed. “You know I don’t do that.”
“You should. Hold on, I’m pulling it up now.”
Nora wandered into the ice cream aisle. “Do you think standard Mint Chocolate Chip or go crazy with Toffee Butter Peanut Ripple Crunch?”
“Why not get both? You said it’s Phillip’s money, right?” Six suggested.
Nora laughed. “That’s why we’re best friends.”
“Here we go. It says, ‘An invitation is coming your way, and you shouldn’t hesitate to say yes. When a goal is too easy to attain, it is not very fulfilling. Embrace today’s challenge with everything you’ve got’,” Six read.
“Well, I guess Phillip did invite me to get the hell out of his life,” Nora said frowning.
“That can’t be it. He didn’t invite you; he just told you. There is a difference,” Six said.
“Thanks for reminding me,” Nora said, but she knew her friend wasn’t really listening. Once horoscopes or chakras or tarot cards came into the conversation, Six wandered into her own little world until she figured out what they were “saying.” Nora, still a skeptic, had to admit that over their seven-year friendship enough of Six’s translations had come true to make Nora at least consider them.
“You know what?” Six said after a moment of mumbling to herself. “How much do you love your current job?” Six asked.
“It’s just a job. Why?”
“There’s an administrative assistant position opening up at my publishing house, but it would mean relocating to Maryland. I know you want a writing career, but this would get your foot in the door of a publishing house. And your broken heart away from Phillip.”
“Sounds promising,” Nora said.
“The Memoir/Non-fiction publisher is looking for an assistant. He’s never had one and seems to be pretty picky. We’ve had several interviews, but he’s rejected them all.”
“Sounds like a peach,” Nora snorted.
“He is a little serious,” Six laughed, “but he’s gorgeous. I’m talking capital G, panty-melting, chakra-shaking Gor-geous. So at least you’d have some eye candy to help you get over Phillip. I know I could get you a Skype interview. If you come with my recommendation, I bet you’ll get the job in a heartbeat. Not to mention you are completely over-qualified with your degree.”
“Six, I literally just had my relationship status uprooted. I’m not sure I’m ready to commit to completely uprooting my entire life by relocating, too.”
“It’s just an interview,” Six cajoled. “You don’t have to commit, but at least you’d have an option in your back pocket. And we’d be working together. In the same building. Not four states away.” Nora sighed. Six whined, “Please? Puh-lease, please, please, please?”
Now she had to laugh. “You know what? Why not? I accept your invitation.” Six woo-hooed on the other end. “That’d be great if you could set it up. No pressure if it doesn’t work out, like you said. If worse comes to worse, I could always sleep in my car.” Because no matter what, she’d be out of the house when Phillip returned. Absolutely. Nora Ridgeway may not have much, but she still had her pride.
She hoped.
“You won’t have to sleep in your car, ding-dong. You can always stay with me,” Six offered.
“You’re the best, Six. Thanks. Gotta go, I’m at the check-out.” Nora steered her cart into the shortest line.
“I’ll text you the details of the interview,” Six said and hung up.
She unloaded her cart onto the check-out belt anticipating a wonderful night at home binging on comfort food and watching a sappy rom-com where the ending was always happy, and the men were always sensitive and hot.
“PMS or man-trouble?” A voice broke into her thoughts.
“Excuse me?” Nora really looked at the cashier for the first time. Christ, she must have been at least 90.
“This much chocolate and ice cream usually means one or the other,” the cashier said waving a wrinkled hand to indicate Nora’s purchases. “Or maybe woman troubles? I don’t mean to assume your significant other is a man,” the cashier said with a wink while continuing to scan her items. Was she for real? What kind of grandma talked like this?
“No,” Nora said. “You were right. Man trouble. Of the triple bastard kind.”
“Then, the ice cream was a good choice, if you don’t mind my saying. Have yourself one good cry. Get it all out of your system and then forget about him. If he really is a triple bastard, he doesn’t deserve more than that.”
“Wiser words were never spoken,” Nora said, genuinely smiling now as she handed over Phillip’s credit card. The one they usually used for groceries which technically this was even if Phillip would never get a chance to eat them.
“I’ve been through some things in my day. Hell, Mr. Munz at the community center still gives me reasons to buy ice cream occasionally.” She laughed at Nora’s shocked expression, the laugh lines around her eyes practically swallowing them. “Men. They seem to like to invent ways to piss us off.”
Nora laughed genuinely then. “Thank God for inventing ice cream to cool us off when they do.”
“Amen to that, young lady. Good luck! Someone as pretty as you will find your prince charming. I was lucky enough to be with mine for almost 55 years. You know, although I ate my share of ice cream during that time, I made sure he had reason to as well.” She gave
Nora one last wink and a wave.
Nora decided she would take the grocery store grandma’s advice and let herself indulge in a good cry tonight. Then leave those feelings, and Phillip, behind in the house when she moved out.
Chapter 2
Andrew Forrester stood by the window in his office while his co-worker's assistant—Four or Seven? She had a weird name that sounded like a number—fiddled with the computer to pull up the video call system. He agreed to this interview as a favor. She’d been doing double duty by helping him as well as her actual boss. Otherwise he wouldn’t be wasting his time on this interview. Why would someone from out of state, who, according to her resume had never been an assistant before, be a viable candidate when those he had interviewed right here in were not? Seriously, they were only a few miles from Washington D.C.—one of the most populated cities in the country.
To ease his curiosity, he pulled up one of the blogs she listed on her resume. When he searched her name on the site quite a few articles popped up. Always a good sign when the host wanted to use the same author more than once. He clicked on the first one and scanned it. Not bad. A little naive, but the post was from a few years ago. He enjoyed her writing voice: upbeat, fun, a little sassy, but intelligent. He clicked on another link.
He should be working on the manuscript from the new author they were hoping to sign. It had promise but lacked refinement. Which was his job, he supposed. To take something almost there and smooth it into a masterpiece. He should probably apply that mentality to his quest for an assistant instead of rejecting them right away.
But anyone who had to sit through the parade of idiots he did these past few days couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know where his publishing company advertised this position, but they needed to rethink their decisions. One candidate had arrived in ripped jeans, for Christ’s sake. Another snapped gum through the entire process. Mouth noises were an immediate hell no. He could barely stand the sound of his own chewing. So, anyone that could string together a phrase like Ms. Ridgeway was already a step ahead in his eyes.
Andrew once again contemplated telling John, his managing publisher, he didn’t actually need an assistant. Hadn’t he been handling the job just fine this whole time without one? The piles of files on his desk and the notifications in his email reminded him otherwise. The publishing house continued to grow each year, which was a good thing, but until they could hire other people, he had to take on more responsibilities. Especially with any new talent.
His unfinished novel also waved at him from his heart. If he had an assistant, he hopefully wouldn’t have to take so much work home. That would leave him time to actually work on the damn thing. It had been tickling his brain for the better part of a year now — ever since his father passed away, and he found their love letters from his dad’s time in the war.
“Mr. Forrester, I’m sorry, but I can’t get the video to work,” Two’s voice broke through his thoughts. “It probably has something to do with updating Java. Audio works just fine, though. You might be able to see her, but she definitely won’t be able to see you.”
“Great,” he grumbled. He’d been threatening to throw the malfunctioning machine across the room on the daily. What didn’t the IT Department understand about needing the computer to function in order to do his job?
“You are live, though,” Three (Seven?) was saying, “and Nora should be signing in any moment. She will be able to hear you immediately. Do you want me to stay to do introductions?”
“I think I can handle it. Thank you,” he dismissed her.
She gave him a thumbs up. “I have a good feeling about this. I didn’t hit any red lights on the way here, and two black cats walked in opposite directions.” She stepped out of the room in a flourish of colorful skirts. Andrew shook his head.
A moment later the computer chimed and a rather attractive, though pixelated, face appeared on screen. “Ms. Ridgeway, I presume,” he said.
“Yes, that’s me,” she said as the video feed froze.
“Right. The video seems to be faulty, but I can hear you just fine.”
“I can hear you, too. Thank you for being willing to do this interview via computer. I appreciate it.”
“Well, your friend recommended you highly,” he said.
“Yeah, Six is great,” Nora said. SIX! He wrote it really big on his desk calendar so he wouldn’t forget again.
“Well, let’s get right to it, shall we?” Andrew said and began firing the typical questions at her. About half-way through he could only remember about half of what she had said. Instead of listening, he watched her mouth move - when the video wasn’t freezing anyway. She had a way of half-smiling as she talked that was quite pleasant. When she smiled for real, her whole face showed it. There might have even been some freckles on her nose, but the crappy connection made it hard to tell.
The questions were just a formality anyway. What interested him more was how the candidate answered rather than what they said. He could read a resume after all. But his potential assistant’s personality had to mesh with his if they were going to work so closely together. He needed someone with some intelligence that he could bounce ideas off of.
According to John, he also needed someone who could help with client relations. Apparently that area “needed improvement”, according to his last review. So far, Nora checked all his boxes.
“All right, Ms. Ridgeway, last question,” he said when she had finished answering the previous one. “Tell me something about yourself to help me remember you. It could be anything—hobbies, an interesting pet, favorite food. What makes you unique?” He loved this question. Most people said uninteresting things like, “I’m a super hard worker” or “I have the cutest dog”. If he hadn’t rejected them because of another reason already, that usually got them on the chopping block. He took a sip of his coffee. Let’s see what you’ve got, Ms. Ridgeway.
“I can cross one eye at a time,” Nora said and proceeded to do just that. Caught off guard by the silliness, he choked on the coffee and spit it back into his cup before shouting a loud
“HA!” Thank god she couldn’t see him. Just as he got himself under control, she switched eyes, causing him to laugh again.
“I can definitely say I’ve never had someone say that before,” he said.
She smiled. “You did say unique.”
“I certainly did.” He shook his head. Of all the candidates, Nora landed at the top of the list.
And Six did see two black cats walking in opposite directions this morning. He didn’t really know what that meant, but she seemed excited, so it must be fate, right? He decided to take a chance. “I’ll tell you what. You surprised me, which is hard to do. You are clearly overqualified for the job, but have a degree that matches the industry, so I’m going to give you a shot. Can you start on Monday?”
“Oh my goodness! Yes! Thank you!” she squealed and stood up to do a little dance. The word JUICY shouted at him from across the backside of her sweatpants. He smiled again.
“We do have a dress code, here, though, Ms. Ridgeway,” he teased, deadpan.
He watched the color drain from her face as she looked down. “Oh shit,” she said and sat down quickly. “I only planned on being seen from the waist up. I do have real pants, I swear.”
“I’ll have HR send you the necessary paperwork. See you on Monday. 8am sharp,” he logged off, still smiling.
When was the last time he had spontaneously laughed? Andrew honestly couldn’t remember. He had to admit, it felt good. Had he really just hired someone because she made him laugh? Well, that and her interesting mouth. He bet those full lips were quite kissable.
He sat up straight in his chair. He couldn’t think like that; he wasn’t interviewing a date. He was going to be her boss. Still that didn’t keep him from wondering whether she had freckles on any other parts of her body. Or if she had any other hidden tricks. Andrew thought of her crossed eyes and chuckled again.
His office door suddenly swung open to Six standing on the other side clasping her hands.
“Is it true? Did she get the job?”
“Word sure does travel fast.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I was only a little bit eavesdropping,” Six said holding her fingers an inch apart. “Did I hear correctly?”
“She got the job,” he confirmed.
“I knew she would! Black cats never lie.” Six clapped her hands like a toddler. “You won’t regret it, Mr. Forrester. I’ll train her on everything, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Thank you. That’ll be very helpful. Try to keep the socializing to a minimum at work, though,” he warned.
“Of course. We’re both very professional,” Six assured him. “I’m gonna call her right now.”
Six danced out of the office.
Unfortunately, Mindy Carlisle, the editor she worked for, soon replaced her.
“What can I do for you, Mindy?” he asked not looking up. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her prowling her way over to his desk. Mindy had a thing for personal space—as in, she didn’t believe in it. She popped her hip right up on the side of his desk and leaned over to see his computer screen where he had opened an email to HR.
“Since Six is practically having a baby out there, I assume her little friend got the job?” She said. Andrew nodded. “How sweet. Hopefully they don’t just gossip all day.”
“Six assured me they wouldn’t,” Andrew said still not looking at her.
“What’s she like?”
“She has a degree in writing, is relocating from North Carolina, and is willing to work hard,” Andrew stated.
“No, silly. I mean is she cute?” Mindy said.
“Cute?” He knitted his brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Mindy laughed and tossed her artificial auburn hair over her shoulder, “When a man answers like that, then the answer is yes. I guess I have to step up my game around here if I’m going to continue to be the office siren.”
“Self-proclaimed,” Andrew murmured as she slid off the desk.
“Listen, Andy.” He cringed. He hated that nickname. Especially in her mouth. “Rule number one of having an assistant is not to get too personal or emotionally involved. Especially with the way you gobble up women and then spit them back out.” She ran a hand over his shoulders as she stepped behind him. “You should’ve probably gotten a male. She’ll be drooling over you in a D.C. minute. I know that is hard for you to resist.”
“Thank you for your analysis of my love life, Mindy, but contrary to what you think, I do have some self-control. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” He scooted his chair closer to his desk to try to minimize contact.
“Of course you do,” she said. “I can’t wait to meet little Miss Cutie-pie on Monday. Don’t forget our meeting this afternoon with John.” She wagged her fingers at him as she slinked out the door.
He got up to close it behind her. Maybe he could actually get some work done now. But he found his thoughts returning to what Mindy said. He did not “gobble up women and spit them out”. Did he? He rubbed a hand over his jaw as he sat down.
Last month he dated that nurse whose nose made the weird noise every time they kissed. He could only handle that for three dates. Before her was the campaign manager, but she had been on her phone talking to the candidate more than talking to him, so that hadn’t lasted more than, what—four dates? Turns out she and the married candidate were burning up more than the campaign trail. Four dates seemed like more than enough when he found that out.
Earlier this year was a preschool teacher. She had promise. Until she kept using words like “potty” and “inside voice”. Who could blame him for not wanting to be talked to like a toddler?
So what if his longest relationship had only been about four months? Which, he had to admit was maybe a little pathetic. He had food in his fridge that lasted longer than that.
“So what?” he said again out loud to no one but the fern on the corner of his desk. Anything permanent or long-term could wait while he focused on his writing career. He barely had time to work on his novel now. With a girlfriend came more demands on his time.
Besides, as far as he knew, none of those ladies complained about their time together, short though it was. He didn’t ghost them or lie when he wanted to stop seeing them. That made him not a complete jerk.
Right?
His parents’ smiling faces admonished him from their place in a frame on the shelf beside his desk. He knew they would want him to find someone to share his life with. Someone to make him happy, like they had done for each other. Settling, even in the short term, wasted his time. He didn’t settle for mediocrity in his writing, and he wouldn’t settle in his personal life, either. Especially after finding those love letters and realizing just how deep his parent’s connection had run. His parents were married for almost 40 years before cancer claimed his mother a few years ago. They were completely devoted to each other.
So while some people would call him picky, Andrew couldn’t find anything wrong with having high expectations when it came to whom he spent his time with. Or his life.