Saturday Book Tease
Saturday Book Tease
Hiring John, a Raucous and Raunchy Romantic Comedy!
My only romantic comedy so far (although you’ll find comedic dialogue in many of my books), Hiring John, has managed to garner great reviews. It’s a fast-paced Vegas romp about women’s empowerment, mistaken identity, and always…love!
"A book that delivers...It is a modern day [SIC] adult farce once a popular genre with mistaken identities, compromising situations and in more stricter times literally caught with your trousers down...Pure Vegas but delightfully witty and summing up why this is such a pleasurable read." ~ Richard/Goodreads
"Entertaining, screwball shenanigans in Sin City." ~ Linda/Goodreads
"Many LOL moments. Fabulous book, highly recommended." ~ Geraldine/Goodreads
Chapter One
Promotion, Commotion, and Cougar Status Denied!
“Congratulations, Brit! No one deserves this more than you.” Kathy Chapman toasted her friend, and now supervisor, Britain St. James. She held up her enormous, fruit-ringed cocktail encouraging the other two women at their table to do the same. Emma Cole tossed her blonde locks over her shoulder and hefted her bottled beer clinking the glass with Kathy’s. Brit pasted a smile on her face and belatedly hoisted her glass of Chardonnay to theirs.
“Thanks, girls.” She looked at her two friends. Kathy bounced in her chair in time with the music blaring from the stage of the pub they were currently visiting. It was a nice pub, to be sure. It was frequented by the working stiffs from the surrounding banks and corporations, so suits were a normal sight within the establishment known as The Foxy Hound. It was corny as pub names go, but popular. Sitting within the heart of London, it tried for that bygone era feel with modern fixtures including the stage where some alternative trio was banging out dance tunes on their guitars.
Brit watched as Kathy sipped her ridiculously large beverage while chair dancing. Her long, black hair was wound up into a chic twist that accentuated her gorgeous face with perfect cheekbones. At thirty-two, she was still young, lively, and lovely with a sickeningly perfect figure, one she achieved by visiting the gymnasium every morning before work. Brit could barely haul her ass into the shower each day.
Kathy dated. A lot! Tales of her endless train of men showing up on her doorstep with flowers in one hand, and condoms in the other never ceased to entertain. Brit wondered if half the shite she shoveled was real, but even at half, it was one-hundred times more action than her own love life offered, which was zilch, zero, and not at all.
Across the small, round table sat Emma Cole. Emma used to work in accounting, but she would be taking Brit’s old position as loans consultant now that she’d been promoted to department manager. She was blonde, curvy, and happily married to the love of her life for two years and counting. They’d spent many a luncheon chatting about Sam’s insatiable appetite for sex. Funny, as much as she seemed to complain, Brit could tell Emma didn’t mind at all. She was usually blushing while relaying how Sam had snuck up on her in the shower before work or caused cramps in her legs bending her over the kitchen table with the window wide open, so anyone passing by could see. Sam was obviously a bit of a freak, but he loved Emma with all his heart. No one seeing them together would disagree.
“Why are you being so glum, Brit?” Emma noticed Brit’s unusual silence.
“Yes, you should be bouncing off the fucking walls with joy.” Kathy nudged her shoulder. “You’re getting loads more money, a better office, and more company stock. So what’s with the sourpuss?”
“It’s nothing. Really, I’m having a wonderful time.” Brit sat up straighter, not wanting to be a damper on everyone’s good time. She threw her arm around Kathy, and saluted Emma. “You birds are the best, you are.”
Kathy smacked her hand down on the table. “Well, there’s the problem then.” She looked at Emma. “She’s surrounded by chicks when she should be wallowing in cocks.”
Emma spit her beer out, laughing. “Kathy!”
“What!” Kathy was unapologetic. “You have your cock on the daily, Em. I’m drowning in cock, but when’s the last time we heard you mention cock, Brit?” She looked at Brit.
Blushing, Brit opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.
“Exactly. You can’t even remember, can you? Just look at you.” Kathy cupped Brit’s chin. “Mouth hanging open like a hungry baby bird. What you need is a juicy worm, a hot hunk to fill your cheeks to the brim until you look like a cock-hungry chipmunk.”
Emma snorted.
“Good Lord, Kathy!” Brit finally found her voice. “It’s a good thing we’re not on the clock.”
“I’m not the least bit repentant. You need to get laid, Brit. Powerful women such as yourself should have a booty call on call twenty-four seven. I mean, what’s the point of being a department head for a large bank if you can’t fucking fuck whenever you want?” Kathy blurted out; her cocktail sloshing over the rim.
Indeed, Brit thought. But out loud, “Well, I don’t know about all of that, but I suppose there’s a bit of truth to what you’re saying.”
“You’re bloody right, there is.” Kathy held up her now empty glass waving it at the cute bartender. His name was Tom, and Kathy had been flirting with him for free drinks ever since he began working at The Foxy Hound two months prior.
Tom grinned, and before long, walked over with another obnoxiously large, frothy drink for Kathy. He was quite handsome in that twenty-something, devil-may-care way with dark brown waves, and large, chocolate-brown eyes. He kept a bit of manicured stubble on his cheeks, which did nothing to hide his dimples.
“Your drink, madam, on the house.” He winked at Kathy who giggled.
He turned to leave, but Kathy grabbed his arm pulling him to her side. She threw him a conspiratorial look. “Tom, our Brit has just made department head.”
Tom turned to look at Brit. “Congratulations, ma’am.”
Brit’s auburn eyebrow rose a hair. Did that cheeky bastard just call me ‘ma’am’? “Thank you,” she said out loud.
Kathy was up to something. Brit could see it written all over her face. “She’s celebrating,” she said. “We’re all celebrating. She’s a powerful cougar now.” She let out an awkward, purring sound. Brit grimaced.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Emma chuckled. She knew Kathy was trying to engineer a situation, and it was painful to watch. It was even more painful because Brit was the unsuspecting recipient of Kathy’s plan.
Tom eyed Kathy. “Well, now, I do like cougars.” He said this while staring at Kathy, but Kathy was still looking at Brit, oblivious.
“She’s a lovely cougar too. Won’t bite much, not unless you ask.” She winked at Brit, and then turned to look at Tom who appeared suddenly confused.
“What? Oh, you mean…,” he looked at Brit. “Sorry, I need to get back to the bar.” He beat a swift retreat away from Kathy and her machinations.
“What a twat!” She bit her lip and glanced at Emma who shrugged. Then she looked at Brit. “I’m so sorry.”
Brit sighed. “No need to apologize. Just let it go, Kathy. I should be heading home anyway.” Brit got off her stool, straightening her dove-gray suit skirt. “Henry will be waiting for me.” She picked up her clutch.
“Well, that’s positively fucking sad.” Kathy pouted.
Emma stood up too, cell phone in hand. “At least Henry loves her. And speaking of love, my Sam is texting, so I should head out as well.”
“You’re both party poops.” Kathy sucked on the straw of her drink. “Well, go on then, see if I care.”
“Will you be alright?” Brit looked at her, concerned.
“Of course.” Kathy waved them both out. “Go, I’m fine. Maybe tonight will be the night for dear Tommy. God knows I won’t be able to talk to him again after that insult to you, Brit, so I may as well fuck him and be done with it.”
Brit pursed her lips, trying not to point out the inconsistencies of her statement. Emma caught her eye and shook her head, a gesture that said, “Never mind her. She’s mad as a Hatter and twice as horny.”
Continue reading Hiring John now! Click here.
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