(And woah, talk about tall, dark and handsome. He is exactly what my dad aptly calls The Jaw.)
Dear Mister… **strike out** no, too formal.
Hey there sweet cheeks **strike out** no, too forward.
To whom it may concern,
Full disclosure; before we move forward with this email, I would like it to be known that I have consumed an adequate amount of alcoholic beverages to intoxicate myself tonight. Three margaritas, two shots, and one beer – because it was free.
I think it’s important to be open and honest with your co-workers, don’t you?
So here I am, being honest. Drunk but honest. Or just drunk with lust? You decide.
I have a hopeless, foolish, schoolgirl crush on you when you are the last person on earth I should be falling for. Did you know people around the office call you a sadist? An egomaniac. An insensitive, arrogant prick. Your bark is worse than your bite, and you don’t scare me. The fact is, I’d love that bite of yours to nip at my bare skin while we’re both wearing nothing but sheets.
For once I want you to look at me as more than one of your employees.
And as long as we’re being honest, that navy blue suit you wear? With the crisp white shirt? It really makes me want to loosen your tie and show you who’s boss.
A forbidden romance in the workplace with an arrogant annoying boss (I assume)? YES PLEASE.
I am thinking that maybe the protagonist writes this letter drunk and then accidentally sends it to her boss, or maybe it just seems like a good idea at the time only to think OH SHIT when she wakes up the next day with a raging hangover and massive regrets (don’t we all know that old chestnut). Either way, I love the synopsis for this, and the rather delightful cover just as much!
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favourite vices, she includes: iced lattes, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colourfully, collects vintage books, arts, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
She lives with her husband, children, and her ridiculously large dog.
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep mal voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing…enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can fin the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four-legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
(The weirdest author bio I have ever read and will ever publish on my blog?)