Worst Week Everby Liza O'Connor
New
Adult, humorous, Contemporary
Blurb
What do you get when you put a hardworking, can-do
middle-class young woman together with a egoistical, outrageous, billionaire
boss, then throw in the worst week of disasters imaginable?
Book 1 of the 3 book series A Long Road to Love
Worst Week Ever.
Trent Lancaster spends one month without his Executive
Assistant (or as his drivers refers to Carrie: 'Trent's brain, left hand, and
right hand'. He's had a miserable month without her at his side and to ensure
it never happens again, he intends to marry this brilliant beauty. Only given
all the times he's threatened to fire her, he's not sure she even likes him.
However, the future of his company and his happiness depend upon him
succeeding, so Trent begins a slow one week seduction that happens to coincide
with Carrie Hanson's Worst Week Ever when everything that can go wrong does so
in hilarious form. (Hilarious to the reader, Carrie is not having much fun this
week.)
Excerpt
Carrie squeezed her eyes shut,
waiting for the thump of a body against the limo’s hood.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted
Sam take a shortcut,” Trent muttered beneath his breath.
She groaned softly. If her boss
questioned his actions, then matters must look grim outside. She tensed even
further, expecting to hear multiple bodies slam into the car.
Sam braked hard, turned right, and
resumed driving a billion miles an hour. If not for the seat belts, she and
Trent would’ve sailed into the front seat, and then plastered against the door.
To secure her further, Trent protectively placed an arm around her shoulder and
pulled her against his warm chest.
She focused on the thumping of his
heart. It beat once to three of hers. God,
how can he be so calm?
Determined to match his bravery,
she tried to raise her head, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Just a little longer, I hope. Sam,
when do we depart this third world country?”
“Two more blocks, sir.”
“Thank God. You’ve terrified poor
Carrie to death.”
Instantly, the limo’s speed
dropped.
She turned her head sideways so Sam
might be able to hear her words. “Your driving doesn’t frighten me, Sam, the
neighborhood does.”
As if on cue, a round of three loud
pops sounded, followed by three thunks into her side door. She squeaked like a
mouse at the first thunk. By the third, her body shivered in fear.
Trent’s arms tightened around her
as the limo picked up speed again. “We’re okay,” he assured her, then his lips
pressed against her temple. His calm certainty silenced her tremors.
Having successfully soothed her, he
released his outrage upon Sam. “Why the hell did you drive us through here?”
Sam calmly replied as he drove the
car at a billion miles an hour, taking corners at deadly speeds. “I warned you
the locals might not welcome us.”
“Someone just shot at us?” Trent
yelled.
Sam’s nonchalant reply sounded
almost surreal. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for you to take it personally, sir.”
Maybe
none of this is happening. Maybe I fell asleep in the traffic and my dream has
gone rogue.
Her heart calmed and she nuzzled
closer to Trent, breathing in his masculine scent. Secure in her dream, she
confessed something she never would in real life. “You smell good.”
Trent’s arms relaxed a bit and he
chuckled. “It’s called Trent. I had the cologne custom developed. They assessed
my natural odors and then determined the optimal combination of scents to
create my unique smell.”
She snorted. Even in her dreams, he
remained the strangest man she’d ever met. If she had all the money in the
world, she’d try to end poverty and violence in…whatever hell they’d just driven
through, not have some custom designed perfume created so she’d smell really,
really good.
Liza O’Connor
Author Bio:
