Series: A Mister Standalone
Published on 4-27-16
A Standalone book in a brand new series by New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss!
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.
ALL BOOKS IN THIS SERIES CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE!
Mr. Perfect (Out Now!)
Mr. Romantic (Pre-order available. Releases 6-22-16)
Mr. Corporate (Releases 8-17-16)
Mr. Mysterious (Releases 10-12-16)
Mr. Match (Releases 12-7-16)
I’m celebrating the release of Mr. Perfect today, a brand new standalone book about one hell of a quirky girl looking for her perfect Mr. Right and to kick things off, I’m giving away SIX SIGNED BOOKS. All you have to do is vote for your favorite cover!
Read a sneak peek of Mr. Perfect and then vote for your favorite cover to enter to win! 🙂
“Are you OK, Miss Hatcher?” McAllister asks from the other end of the table. He’s got a smug look on his face.
I don’t know what just happened, but I need to get out of here. I take a deep breath and smile. “I just remembered. I have…” I have what? Shit. My heart starts racing and I swallow hard. “I have…”
“You have something to tell us, Ellie?” Jennifer Sluts-around asks. And the funny thing is, I think she’s trying to be helpful. “Reorganization, maybe?” Jennifer throws me one of those quirky sideways smiles girlfriends do when things are going terribly awry.
“Um, yeah, I mean…” I stammer.
“Miss Hatcher,” Mr. Sowards says. “Whatever you have to say can wait. Sit down. Now!”
I look around, silently pleading for help, but when my eyes land on McAllister Stonewall, he says, “Yes, Ellie, tell us what’s got you all hot and bothered.”
I shake my head. Nope. Nope. Not gonna do this. I’m quitting today and I’m not going out as the girl who was sexting the boss during a meeting.
“I… I quit.”
“You do not quit, Miss Hatcher,” McAllister says. “You’ve been working here for seven years. You just got a promotion and a new office. So no, you’re not quitting. Sit down and we can discuss this issue later.”
“What?” Where the hell does he get off? And I’m not discussing shit with him later. “No, I have to go. I’m sorry. I forgot to turn off my oven at home. I was baking cookies this morning…” Baking cookies? Jesus, Ellie, step it the fuck up. Do not let him chase you out of here and make these past seven years a joke. “I mean, not the oven, I have a… a dental appointment. My tooth,” I say, tapping on my front tooth. “Needs a root canal. And my cholesterol is high, so I need pre-treatment. And… and then I have to… I have…”
“Ellie,” McAllister says in a stern voice. “Sit down. We’ll discuss it all later. None of that is true and you know it.”
I move away from the table very slowly. Like McAllister is a lion and he might pounce and eat me up at any moment. I use the back of my boss’ chair to steady myself as I inch towards the conference room doors.
McAllister stands too, and he’s coming at me quick. I panic and make a break for it. I reach for the handle on the doors that will swing them wide open just as McAllister Stonewall grips my arm and thwarts my escape.
“Tampon!” I scream as loud as I can.
McAllister lets go, his handsome, perfectly-groomed face filled with confusion. “What?”
“Tampon!” I yell again. “I need a tampon, OK? I didn’t want to have to say it out loud, but you forced me, Stonewall. So I will see you people… whenever. Get out of my way because I quit and I need a tampon!”
The magic word. It does the trick. Everyone in the room except McAllister erupts in laughter. But whatever, I’m outta there. I dash across the top floor heading towards the elevator.
“Ellie Hatcher!” McAllister Stonewall yells. “Stop right where you are!”
Oh, my God. The whole fucking place is looking at me. There are at least fifty creatives working on this floor alone. And when I look down at the people on the sixth floor below, there are dozens of faces looking up too. People start whispering loudly as I try not to fall apart.
“Ellie!” Stonewall says again. “Wait!”
I look at the elevator, then the stairs. But the only way out of here without a confrontation in front of a hundred people is… the slide.
I break for it, almost twisting an ankle as I run. Stonewall’s feet thunder on the marble tiled floors behind me and I know he’s close. He’s going to catch me and there is no way in hell I’m talking to that man ever again. I get to the slide just as his fingertips brush against the fluttery silk of my blouse sleeve. But I grab the handle as I swing my feet and legs in, and then I whoosh myself into the seven-story slide.
I scream, then laugh in triumph as I make my escape. It’s fast and exhilarating. Thrilling even. Why have I never done this before? The first twist comes up, and I slow slightly. “Whooo!” I yell in the slide. “Hahahahaha!”
When I come out of the second twist, it’s a steep drop and I pick up speed.
That’s when my skirt starts to ride up my thighs. My legs are all sweaty from the embarrassment and confrontation.
No. No, no, no. You cannot get stuck in this—
But I slow down as the friction between my skin and the slide starts to hinder my escape. The incline isn’t as steep now either. So there’s no chance of building momentum. I must be near the ground floor.
A few seconds later I come out of another turn and I’m slowing down so fast, I have to start scooting forward.
Shit. Why me? Why couldn’t this happen on Pencil Skirt Monday? A pencil skirt would not ride up.
Pretty soon there it’s obvious that there is no hope of sliding down the rest of the way, so I take off my shoes and throw them down the slide ahead of me, then contort my body and wiggle around until I’m face first on my hands and knees.
And I crawl.
I crawl forward, fling my shoes, then crawl some more. I calculate how long I’ve been in the slide and come up with no more than a minute. I’m gonna make it. I crawl faster, throwing my shoes through the last turn. They go tumbling out of sight as I pick up my pace. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. I am seconds away from freedom when a pair of legs come into view.
I stop crawling so fast and make my way towards the end of the slide where the top cuts away and yes.
There he is. Waiting for me. My Jimmy Choos directly in front of him. My pretty pink clutch, tablet, and phone in one hand as he extends the other out towards me.
“Are you quite finished now, Miss Hatcher?”
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