Book Trailer ~ http://bit.ly/kRtZau

Sheila Adams, thrilled to be Troy Reid’s personal executive assistant, wants to prove she was the right choice. She’s the perfect secretary, who’ll do anything to please both her bosses.

Excerpt:

“Miss Adams.”

The red indicator light of a recessed intercom on Sheila’s desk glowed. Pressing a discreet button, she leaned and spoke into it.

“Yes, Mr. Reid?”

“Come into my office, right away. Bring a pen and pad.” The light turned off, and once again the recessed intercom blended into the desk.

Gathering up her notepad and pen, Sheila walked to the set of double doors leading to Mr. Reid’s office. Six months ago, she’d been one of five women chosen from the secretarial pool to compete for the vacated position of Executive Assistant to Mr. Troy Reid. After a lengthy and gruelling board interview with Troy and his two partners, Seth Black and Chad Masterson—the partner rumoured to have married the previous E.A.—Sheila had been offered the job.

Their questions ranged from professional to personal. At times her head felt like it was split in two as they tag-teamed her, and often her answers were hurried as one would fire off a question about the company and the others would pry into her personal life.

After the interview she’d gone and sat on a toilet in the ladies restroom, because her legs had been like jelly. Although shaken, the idea of being Troy Reid’s personal assistant had her on edge. In a good way. Her attraction to him bordered on dangerous. He had no idea she had a huge crush on him, and drooled over him from afar.

The other two were nothing to sneeze at either. When all three men turned to greet her before the interview, she’d felt like she’d walked into a photo shoot for GQ. Alone, each man was potent, but together, a girl could be forgiven if she’d forget small things. Like how to breathe.

Pushing the door wide, she entered and strode toward his desk. He sat, watching her over steepled fingers. At the edge of a chair, facing his desk, she stopped.

No man had the right to look as good as he did. Broad shoulders, lean hips, hair the color of burnished oak, and melt-in-your-mouth chocolate eyes. Her breath hitched as those chocolate eyes narrowed and he brought his hands down onto his desk.

“Miss Adams. Did I not say ‘right away’?”

Sheila quelled the temptation to push her hair behind an ear. A habit she did when nervous.

“Yes sir, you did.”

“It took you ten seconds to get here, Miss Adams, and I know for a fact it should take precisely eight.”

Anticipation skittered through her midsection, and she swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, her palms clammy.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry Mr. Reid.”

“Sorry won’t do. Remove your shirt.”

Startled, Sheila hesitated. During her six months as his Executive Assistant, she’d seen interest flare in his eyes, but this—demand—was new.

“Miss Adams. Your shirt.”

Troy’s voice brought her out of her stunned silence.

“Y…yes, sir.”

She knew by following his request, she’d entered into a tacit agreement, and had to trust he wouldn’t broadcast this all over the building. And not do anything she wouldn’t want.