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INTRO:
I was writing a different secret book and hit a roadblock with it. My philosophy is that it’s better to write something else and break through the dreaded wall of writer’s block than to stare at the screen and leave fans waiting, getting zero words written.
A few bullet points regarding what this story could be about was in my idea book and I decided to run with it and see if I felt any magic. I did. I fell in love. If you like jerky asshole alphas, you’ll probably get a kick out of this book. It’s got romance. It has comedy. It’s got steam. It also has the requisite DD Prince alpha. Aiden is infuriating. You’re going to effing love him.
While getting it ready for you the past little bit I’ve been also working on some of the promised books you are waiting for, (including the original secret book), so don’t fret. More books will be along soon!
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this. I loved writing it so much that future books in this genre and maybe even this particular universe are a definite possibility, too.
I present:
Alphahole – a contemporary bad boy romance
Alpha asshole office romance, meets roommate romance, meets enemies to lovers’ story.
Yes, it’s all those things. It’s a slow burn story with some comedy and lots of sexual tension and heat. I hope you enjoy it!
Please leave a review, even a quick one, if you do!
1
CARLY
I get out of the cab, grateful I can finally breathe something other than a potpourri of body odor, garlic, and onions. I take in some San Diego air and look up at the architecturally impressive building in front of me. My new home; for at least the next three months, anyway.
I fumble for the envelope in my carry-on and pull out a key as the cab driver rounds the car to open the trunk.
The key was sent to me in interoffice mail two days before by the CEO’s admin. It’s a key is to my corporate apartment. I’ll share it with another new employee named Ally and I’m told she’s arriving tomorrow.
I’ll be here for three months, minimum. If I have my way, I’ll be living in this city for the foreseeable future. I’ve been here less than an hour and I already love it.
I feel a little like the twirling Mary Tyler Moore in the opening credits of her show, in the big city, looking around me and wanting to toss my hat up in the air.
I’m not wearing a hat, so I opt for a big smile pointed at the sky. I’ve lived in a big city all my life, but this one? This feels like the fresh start I need.
I am stoked about starting my new job on Monday. I’ll be an online marketing strategist for a business consultancy firm. It feels like I’m finally getting paid my due.
I’ve worked my ass off since graduating college; interning and working as a peon for a marketing agency (now a subsidiary of this company) for almost three years. And now I’m here, in sunny San Diego, working at the new parent company’s head office, and making bank for three months, hoping it’ll turn permanent.
If it doesn’t, and I have to go back to Buffalo…
I can’t think that way, and I can already tell that I’m going to work my patootie off to make sure that doesn’t happen.
The list of perks is good. Free taxis to and from work. I get to live rent-free for the duration of my contract. If I’m offered a full-time job after that, I’m sure I’ll need to find my own place.
I’ll likely work fewer hours than what I worked back home and at almost three times the salary with more autonomy, and a whole new life.
I wanted this new life. After all I’d been through lately? Heck, I needed it and cautiously told myself that I even deserved it.
I needed to get away from Jon (ex). Away from Caitlin (sister). Away from Stephanie (ex-bestie). Just away.
Before I arrived, I decided that this was gonna be great. I was gonna be a whole new Carly. The old Carly let people walk on her. The old Carly didn’t stand up for herself nearly enough.
Now that I’ve arrived, I hereby declare myself Carly 2.0.
No one but me needs to know that this new and improved version of me isn’t who I’ve always been.
***
The cab driver gets my giant rolling suitcase from the trunk and as he hands it to me, I thank him, not at all thankful I’m getting caught in the eau du garbage can cologne cloud again. Whether he is making the car smell bad or the car is making him smell bad, I don’t know, but it isn’t pleasant.
He hasn’t spoken on the drive from the airport; I’ve got no clue what his nationality is, but the tall and thin, nearly gaunt, olive-skinned 40-something man with the dark eyes has been stoic.
