Book & Author Details:
Mr. Perfect by JA Huss
Published April 27, 2016
Wanting the perfect man doesn’t make me crazy. I just know what I like.
A powerful billionaire in a suit wasn’t even my first choice. Mcallister Stonewall was never on my radar, I didn’t even know he existed.
But I do now.
His hands are all over me at work. The heat of his chest pressing against my bare back as he bends me over the desk is the only thing on my mind.
He is my most forbidden desires unleashed. He is my new secret obsession. He is my Mr. Perfect.
Until the moment I realize… There’s no such thing as perfect.
I shove the door open, out of breath, sweating like I just came from the gym, and pissed as hell. “What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?” Pearl Button says. She’s not wearing a pearl-button sweater. Still the same kimono silk shirt from this morning. In fact, I can, now that I look, see that she has no bra on. Her nipples are pushing against the thin fabric.
“I just got off the phone with Andrew Manco. He’s upset that you’re leaving. I thought we had worked this out?”
“When would we have done that? Before or after you had me on my knees in front of your cock?”
I put a hand up. “I didn’t have you do anything.”
“No? You didn’t stick your tongue down my throat, open my blouse, rip my bra off, and then stick your fingers inside my pussy? Was I dreaming it? Because I have to tell you, that’s quite a fantasy I had.”
Jesus Christ. The second I hear ‘pussy’ come from those sweet lips I get hard. I clear my throat. “I gave you a promotion this morning, Miss Hatcher.”
“To what? Stairwell dick-sucker?”
“Stop that!” I say.
“Talking dirty! I can’t fucking take it.”
“Whatever.” She sighs. “I’m leaving.” She packs up one small box of personal items and walks towards me. “Flip that light off when you’re done here, will you?”
I take the box from her hands and set it down on a bookshelf next to me. “Eloise—”
“Ellie,” she corrects.
“Look, I’m sorry I humiliated you this morning. I was just having fun, OK? I didn’t think you’d take it this hard, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about you,” Ellie says, waving an envelope in my face.
I snatch it out of her and read the front. “Mr. Alexander Stonewall, corporate office? What the hell is this?”
“My formal resignation to your father. I figure I owe him something in writing after seven years.” She snatches the letter back and crosses her arms across her chest.
“You’re not sending that letter. You’re not quitting,” I say, more determined than the last time I said it.
“It’s done, Stonewall. Get over it.” I try to snatch the letter back, but she darts aside. “Who do you think you are?”
“Your boss,” I snarl. “That’s who. And I’m telling you, you’re not allowed to just quit and leave us hanging like this. Two weeks isn’t enough time to get a grip on what you do here. I need all your contacts, all your schedules, all your—”
“How dare you accuse me of trying to steal corporate property!”
“Give me the letter.” I reach for it again, but she skirts out of my reach, this time running around to the other side of her industrial-sized metal desk. “You want to play chase, Miss Hatcher?”
“No,” she sneers. “I really don’t. I want to walk out of here, send my letter, and say goodbye to you forever.”
“Well,” I say, inching around one side of the desk. She does the same, her eyes darting to the door, like she’s going to make a run for it. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going to accept my apology, calm down, and talk this over with me like an adult.”
“You’re the adult? Really?” She eyes the door again and then makes her move. I cut her off. She switches direction. I trip over a metal trashcan, making the whole office erupt with commotion, and make a grab for her arm as she whips past me. My fingers only catch the silk sash of her blouse and it comes flying open. She keeps running, but her shirt… her shirt is still in my hands.
And then Ellie Hatcher is mortified. Because she is baring her breasts to me in all their splendor. “How dare you,” she snarls.
I expect her to cover herself, but she doesn’t. She stands perfectly straight, her nipples hard and peaked, her face flushed crimson with rage, or embarrassment, or hell, maybe she’s turned on?
That thought alone is enough to turn me on.
I hold the shirt up. “Trade you,” I say, a chuckle escaping before I can stop it.
“Is everything a game to you, Mr. Stonewall? Do you think this is funny?”
“No,” I say, wiggling her shirt in the air. “Not at all. I just want to put your clothes back on you, Miss Hatcher.”
JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.
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