Title: That Man Trilogy (Boxed Set Standalone)
Series: That Man
Author: Nelle L'Amour
Genre: Erotic Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January
29, 2016
Synopsis
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Unlimited. Regular Price: $5.99. THE USA TODAY INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLING
SERIES! Be prepared to laugh, cry, and swoon!!
There’s a new beautiful player in town…
Blake Burns, the scorchin’ hot head of SIN-TV, who goes
through women like some go through water. Until he meets Jennifer McCoy, his
outspoken new assistant and development executive.
Newly engaged Jennifer has no idea that her devastatingly
gorgeous new boss is the man she kissed, blindfolded, in a game of Truth or
Dare. That kiss, that man, that beautiful stranger she cannot forget.
Blake hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss
either…and he’ll do anything to win Jennifer —even if it means being a
beautiful bastard and breaking all the rules.
The THAT MAN TRILOGY is a steamy romantic comedy. Written in
dual POV, it's approximately 500 pages long and has a HEA.
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Excerpt
My mind returned to the moment. Where was this new girl? She
definitely must be lost. I set my eyes on my computer screen and scanned the
latest ratings report. Our prime time and late night ratings were through the
roof, but as usual, our daytime ratings were lackluster. I just didn’t get why
our porn lineup in the morning wasn’t getting eyeballs. Big dicks fucking
preened pussies wasn’t cutting it. Something was missing.
“Mr. Burns?” A sweet voice at my doorway diverted my
attention, and I looked up from the screen. In tandem, my eyes blinked, my body
jerked, and my cock tensed. Subtly for her not to notice.
Though her neat auburn bun, prim tweed suit, and
tortoiseshell glasses made her look like some bookworm who should be working at
a corporate law office, I swear I’d recognize that face anywhere—with its
dewy-skin complexion, delicate bone structure, and those expressive, turned-up
lips. Someone pinch me. I must be dreaming. But there she was. That girl I’d
kissed last night. In fact, her lips were still swollen. Holy fucking shit!
“Hi, I’m Jennifer McCoy.”
It took several long moments for my brain to communicate
with my mouth. I cleared my throat and licked my lips. “Please come in and take
a seat.”
Unlike last night when she was blindfolded and took short
hesitant steps, she strode into my office with a strong confident gait and
lowered herself onto one of the two armchairs facing me. She placed her
shoulder bag and briefcase on the floor next to her and crossed her shapely,
long legs. I had the burning urge to uncross them.
“So, Ms. McCoy—”
“You can call me Jennifer.”
Okay, let’s start over. “So, Jen-ni-fer, you come highly
recommended by my boss, Saul Bernstein.” God, I loved saying her name. It
sucked the air out of my lungs.
She flashed a small smile. Two little dimples winked at her
kissable lips. My cock twitched and I continued.
“However, I’m not sure why someone with a passion for
children’s television would want to work for a porn channel.”
Without flinching, she held my gaze steady. “Adults are no
different than children. They need to be entertained.”
That was a fact. And that’s why we referred to our network
and programming as “adult entertainment.” I wasn’t done testing her. Or
studying her—especially her eyes. Her blindfold had hidden them from me last
night, and after she’d disappeared, I kept imagining what they looked like. I
thought they might be brown or blue and deep-set. But they were wide-set and
green—the greenest eyes I’d ever seen on a human being. When she blinked, it
was if they were two leaves fluttering in the wind. I caught my breath.
“Well, it’s one thing to tell a producer of a cartoon that
he—”
“Or she,” she interrupted.
“Or she needs to make the shaggy dog bark louder, but it’s
another to tell the producer of a porn flick that his female star who’s being
shagged needs to scream louder.”
“Not a problem,” she said flatly.
“Well, then, let’s pretend I’m the producer, and I’m not
quite sure what you want. Can you please demonstrate?”
“Sure.” She cleared her throat and then took off her
glasses, setting them on my desk. Fuck. Her eyes were beautiful.
My gaze stayed fixed on them as she flung her head back, and
a look of torturous pleasure washed over her face. It was identical to the
expression on her face last night as I held her head back and fucked her mouth
with my tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, baby, yes! Make me come! Oh God! Oh, yes, Yes, YES!”
Each breathy “yes” was louder than the one before, the last one a roar so loud
I thought the whole office would hear her. Holy shit. This girl was a fucking
tiger. Beneath my desk, my cock was applauding. Was this how Ms. McCoy, M.A.,
came, or was she just a great actress? If the latter, this girl should be
starring in porn flicks, not giving script notes.
“Was that loud and clear enough?” she asked
matter-of-factly, staring me in the face. A slight blush colored her cheeks.
I felt heated. Flushed and flustered. And I could feel my
cock uncomfortably strain against my fly. Fuck this girl. I wasn’t sure if I’d
be able to work with her, but I had no choice.
Collecting myself, I said, “So, I assume you’ll be able to
work long hours. Be on the set if necessary to oversee a shoot. Even at wee
hours in the morning.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to do a great job.”
How about a blow job? Or a hand job? I bit down on my
tongue.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She scowled at me. Damn. She was sexy when she did that.
“What kind of question is that? What does that have to do
with this job?”
“I’m just curious. Is that a crime?”
“Well, it borders on sexual harassment, and the answer is
yes. I have a boyfriend. In fact, a fiancé. He’s a dentist.”
Her tone was defensive. Like she was off limits. I glanced
at her left hand. There was surprisingly no ring on her fourth finger. I let it
go and instead handed her a thick file.
“What’s this?” She opened the file and gazed down at the
stack of papers.
“Your first assignment. This file contains our latest
ratings reports. I’d like you to review them and then tomorrow present a full
analysis of why our daytime ratings are sagging.” I checked my agenda in
Outlook. “Why don’t we say at ten a.m.?”
She closed the file and then retrieved her shoulder bag and
briefcase. “I’ll get right on it,” she said, rising to her feet.
My eyes glanced down at my desk. “Don’t forget your
glasses.”
She twitched an embarrassed little smile. I handed them to
her and brushed my fingers against hers.
“Thanks,” she said, nervously setting them back on her face.
“And thanks for hiring me. You won’t be disappointed.”
With that, she marched toward the door and disappeared. My
cock flexed. I hoped she was right. The word “disappointment” didn’t exist for
Blake Burns.
About the Author
Nelle L'Amour is a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling Author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband, twin teenage princesses, and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. A former executive in the entertainment and toy industries with a prestigious Humanitus Award to her credit, she gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago but still enjoys playing with toys with her husband. While she writes in her PJs, she loves to get dressed up and pretend she's Hollywood royalty. She writes juicy stories with characters that will make you both laugh and cry and stay in your heart forever.
In addition to the Gloria’s Secret Trilogy, she is the author of the bestselling THAT MAN series, the Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire boxed set, and the highly rated Amazon bestseller, Undying Love. Unforgettable, her latest series, will be published in Fall 2015.
Nelle loves to hear from her readers. Connect to her at:
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