Miss August When Shelley August accepts a position as Robert Brooks’ secretary, she knows he’s handsome. She knows he’s sexy. She even knows he’s off limits. What she doesn’t know is that the man is sheer temptation—sin and sensuality packaged in the hottest body she’s ever laid eyes on. Author Robert Brooks hasn’t had a woman since 2005. He’s starved for the erotic heat of a soft, feminine body writhing beneath his. His new secretary is voluptuous and then some. No wonder she turns him on. At least, that’s how he rationalizes his attraction to Shelley. But love isn’t always rational, he discovers. When Shelley took the job, she never expected to find love. When Rob hired her, he didn’t even believe in the illusory emotion. But when love finally finds Rob, he knows how to hold on to it. Things are about to heat up for Miss August. |
| Cover Art by Willo |
Excerpt She was going to have to go. That’s all there was to it. He was going to have to get rid of Shelley and find a man for the job. Rob wouldn’t start spouting sex and rose petals and sea foam eyes if he had a man sitting across the desk from him. Stalking from his room, Rob found himself hammering on Shelley’s bedroom door before he realized it was past midnight. So what. He had told her he worked through the night. Still, he didn’t have to fire the poor woman in the middle of the night. She opened the door before he could take the idea any further. She was wearing a soft white velvet housecoat that did a good job of reaching her feet but only just managed to come together across her breasts. He found himself staring down into her deep, braless cleavage. It went on forever. “I thought you were a heavy sleeper,” he said stupidly. “I wasn’t asleep,” she explained, tugging at the lapels of her housecoat as she tried to cover up her breasts. Might as well try to hold back the Atlantic…at high tide…in hurricane season. Rob shook himself. Her hair was down. It swept her shoulders and framed her face. Her nose, scattered with that fresh spray of freckles, was the most impudent damn thing he could think of. And it was a wonder that he could think at all. That dimple beside her mouth was just begging for the lick and scrape of his tongue. She gazed up at him anxiously. “Did you want to take up where we left off?” “Take up where we left off?” he murmured, gazing at her hair where it curled in thick ribbons on the soft lapels of her robe. “If you’re ready to write, I’ll just slip back into my clothes.” “No!” he cut in. “No! I’m ready to write now. Right now!” Grabbing her wrist, Rob dragged her behind him. He wanted to make sure she was behind him so she wouldn’t notice what was happening in front of him. With a flick of his hand, he rearranged his hard-on to twelve-noon so she wouldn’t have to watch it work its way from seven on up. Rob was going to write. He wasn’t sure what he was going to write, but he was definitely going to write—whatever came to him. If it turned out to be garbage, he could always delete it later on. In the meantime, he’d just go with his instincts. He’d go with his instincts and watch Shelley at the keyboard. She couldn’t hold her robe together if she was typing. Rob’s plan exceeded even his own expectations. Whatever Shelley was wearing beneath that housecoat of hers, there wasn’t very much of it and it was cut fabulously low. For the next hour or so he dictated with his cock stuck at twelve o’clock high. He didn’t mind. And he didn’t drag his eyes out of her cleavage until her long hair slid over her breasts in a thick dark mass. His fingers itched to pull the errant locks back over her shoulders and out of the way. Pressing his lips together, he fought the urge to stand and cross the room, to right the terrible wrong. Her hair was nice—but it shouldn’t be allowed to interfere with his view of her tits. At about that time, he realized that the reason her hair had moved over her breasts was because Shelley was shaking her head. Rousing himself with a shake he asked, “Is something wrong, Miss August?” Shelley lifted her head to gaze at Rob. Although he slouched in his chair, he looked about as relaxed as a stick of dynamite. His incendiary gaze was fixed on her face. His dark skin stretched across his chest, smooth and taut. His nipples pinched up into small spikes, provocatively male. His silver chain made a warm circle around his neck. “You’re shaking your head,” he told her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized with a laugh, “I didn’t know I was…shaking my head.” “Then I don’t suppose you know why you were shaking your head?” Shelley hesitated. “Well, I was just wondering if he could do that,” she finally admitted. “Who?” “Trace.” “Do what?” Shelley tucked a long, thick strand of hair behind her ear. “What you just said.” Rob pushed out a tense sigh as he stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Read it back.” Shelley read from the document. “Molding her body against his, Trace slid his hand over the curve of her ass and down between her legs.” At this point, Shelley stopped. “Could he reach between her legs?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “But they’re standing and she’s not as tall as he is—” “Miss August,” he started then stopped abruptly. “Stand up,” he told her, rising from his chair and crossing the room to meet her as she stood. In one swift move, he had her in his arms. One hand flipped her thick hair behind her back. Then it tightened in her hair at the base of her neck. He pulled down slowly, forcing Shelley’s back to arch while his other hand slid down her spine and latched onto one round cheek of her ass. She gasped when he gave the plump globe a firm squeeze. “Shall I go on?” he murmured. |
| Other Books in the Calendar Girl Series |
madison hayes
Miss August: Calendar Girls
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