Title: Breach of Contract
Author: Elizabeth Miller
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Humour
Publication date: January 31st, 2020
Pre-order: Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)
Only available at the following for a VERY limited time:
B&N | Kobo | iTunes
Goodreads
Author: Elizabeth Miller
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Humour
Publication date: January 31st, 2020
Pre-order: Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)
Only available at the following for a VERY limited time:
B&N | Kobo | iTunes
Goodreads
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Bonafide bombshell Maisie Walker loves sex. The problem is she’s never had it—not with a real live person anyway. Her vibrator, Vinnie, and pornbud.com keep Maisie’s nights busy, but she’s itching to lose her V-card—with her boss, Jayce Kavanagh.
As managing partner of the hottest legal firm in New York City, Jayce Kavanagh likes to win—in court and in the bedroom. With his mind set on legal perfection, he doesn’t have time for the killer sway of his assistant’s assets or her sinful mouth.
One late night in the office changes everything.
Spanking your associate after-hours is not ideal, but with proper boundaries, Jayce makes it happen. Enter in Exhibit A—the contract. General terms and conditions are set in place, satisfaction is guaranteed, and oral persuasion commences.
As they test their limits in and out of the office, feelings surface and amendments are made. But just when an extension is proposed, Jayce strays outside of the contracted lines and Maisie must decide if their flourishing relationship can survive a breach of contract.
Excerpt . . .
A COUPLE OF minutes later, I enter the library double doors. I’ve worked my ass off for every volume lining the walls. There’s something about holding a leather-bound book—the weight, the texture of the page, the subtle hint of coffee and ink. Drake thought I was crazy to invest in paper, but today it’s been proven—every dollar spent is worth its weight in gold.
As I turn the corner of an aisle, Maisie laughs. The sound is low, vibrant, the auditory translation of a simmering sun sliding through the horizon. Sunset in Venice. Monet’s masterpiece brought to life in the color of her voice.
From behind the end cap, I look. Blindsided. That’s what I am when I see her. The curves, the hips, that ass, her face, her ivory skin and those full lips. I forget everything. All of the worries swirling in my mind disappear. I focus on her and it’s a relief. A long hiss of air loosens from my chest and I’m breathless.
She stands on the stepladder, stretching for a book. Her arm reaches higher until the pearly white flesh of her midsection is on display as her sweater rides up. I stare, silent and stupid with incomprehensible words flashing neon in my brain. You. Me. Dinner. Date.
Why? Why does she make me insane?
The tips of her bare toes hardly hold her in place. There’s that laugh again, a short burst as she teeters on the last rung. Her footing slips. Arms whirlwind to find balance or a shelf to grab onto, but instead find nothing but air.
I rush forward. Her back slams into my chest with a breathy “oomph.” Then my hands are on her. Christ. My fingers burn where they curve into her hip. The line of my forearm molds around her stomach, pressing her against me. When her spine stiffens I say, “I’ve got you,” and her head falls to my shoulder. She sighs. She sighs and I hold on tighter.
Seconds. That’s all we have. Maybe five. The subtle hint of peaches and youth, the scent of summer and innocence reaches my nose. I breathe her in for one second, my exhale moving the soft wave of her hair in the next.
“Mr. Kavanagh.”
My ribs constrict around my lungs, squeezing the air out when her hand slides over my arm. Scraping her nails over my skin, her fingers stumble over my watch until finding mine and tangling. The instant ache in my groin shifts my attention from our joined hands to her ass. The same ass that rubs against my zipper. Shit. My dick swells against her backside and a low moan vibrates through her. Goddamn, a moan.
What the hell am I doing? I should leave. The inappropriateness of this situation is not lost on me, but I can’t move. Too intoxicated by her to do anything but squeeze her closer and berate myself for doing so. I’m her boss. She’s . . . Jesus Christ, she’s everything I shouldn’t crave yet I do. For a hundred foolish, selfish reasons, I want this woman.
She may make me insane . . . but I’m not crazy. Not yet anyway. And to keep my sanity intact, I grip her hips and push her forward, forcing some distance between us.
Maisie turns, flattening her shoulders against the bookcase. “Thank you. For saving me.” She clears her throat and waves at the ladder. “Heights are not my thing.”
In another second, her eyes dart from my thighs to the engorged cock in between them and then to my chin. Her gaze flies to the shelves behind me and then up, up to the rows of books. “Such a great library. I wouldn’t have thought . . . Not in a firm this size, not that it’s small. No, God no, it’s not small. Not by a long shot. I can see that. I mean, I know how big. No, that’s not right.” She shakes her head and starts again. “I know how stiff . . . uhm, staff . . .” Her voice trails off when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
A breathless laugh erupts from her mouth. And that fucking smile.
“That was all wrong,” she says, grinning like a loon.
Perfection. She is that—flawless and undeniably beautiful. Real.
I clench my teeth and block the urge to reach for her. Bring her flush with my chest, to feel her soft curves wrap around me.
“Mr. Kavanagh.” Her hand shoots out. “We haven’t officially met. Maisie Walker, newest and best—I assure you—legal assistant in the office. It may not seem that way. The brief—this morning. However, I promise my review is top-notch. All morning I’ve done nothing but think about it. The contract. I’ve worked on you in my mind. Ugh, the research. I’ve worked on the research.”
I stare, dumbfounded, at her perfectly painted pink nails and her long fingers stretched between us. That breathless laugh sounds off again and then she whispers so low I barely hear the words, “I don’t bite. Not too much anyway.”
My gaze jerks and narrows in on her sparkling blue eyes just before our palms connect. Fuck that tremor racing down my spine.
“What did you say?” I step in, hovering over her until she has to crane her neck to stay connected with my eyes. Her hand is gripped in mine. Trapped. Just like I feel when we’re in the same room.
“I mentioned my research.”
“There was something else.”
“No, I was definitely referencing my review. It’s taken all morning and now it brought me to the library. Your very large, well-endowed library. I’ve not encountered one in real life that’s hung in quite this way, only seen them on TV.”
“Hung?”
She bites her lip and the dimple, the one in her right cheek, dips into her porcelain skin and then disappears as she fights a smile.
“Of course I didn’t say hung. That would be a highly inappropriate adjective to describe a library. It’s strung with books, volumes and volumes of big, massive books. Color me impressed, Mr. Kavanagh.”
“Are you able to speak coherently?”
“Absolutely. But you’re standing really, really close to me. And you smell good too. Like cinnamon and leather and big, brutish man. You’re also holding my hand and although I’m not complaining, I have no idea what’s happening right now and I babble when I’m confused. So.”
Almost in spite of itself, the corner of my mouth tips up. “You like my library.”
Maisie nods and uses her free hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, but her eyes never leave mine. “Truly, I do.”
A part of me, the lawyer, wants to tell her how wrong this is, that it verges on a violation of firm policy. Then again, I’m enjoying every word out of her delicious mouth. And as the managing partner, I make the rules.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Walker?”
“That depends,” she says in that low breathy voice that gets me hard. “Were you staring at my breasts during the staff meeting, or just appreciating the faux mohair in my sweater?”
As I turn the corner of an aisle, Maisie laughs. The sound is low, vibrant, the auditory translation of a simmering sun sliding through the horizon. Sunset in Venice. Monet’s masterpiece brought to life in the color of her voice.
From behind the end cap, I look. Blindsided. That’s what I am when I see her. The curves, the hips, that ass, her face, her ivory skin and those full lips. I forget everything. All of the worries swirling in my mind disappear. I focus on her and it’s a relief. A long hiss of air loosens from my chest and I’m breathless.
She stands on the stepladder, stretching for a book. Her arm reaches higher until the pearly white flesh of her midsection is on display as her sweater rides up. I stare, silent and stupid with incomprehensible words flashing neon in my brain. You. Me. Dinner. Date.
Why? Why does she make me insane?
The tips of her bare toes hardly hold her in place. There’s that laugh again, a short burst as she teeters on the last rung. Her footing slips. Arms whirlwind to find balance or a shelf to grab onto, but instead find nothing but air.
I rush forward. Her back slams into my chest with a breathy “oomph.” Then my hands are on her. Christ. My fingers burn where they curve into her hip. The line of my forearm molds around her stomach, pressing her against me. When her spine stiffens I say, “I’ve got you,” and her head falls to my shoulder. She sighs. She sighs and I hold on tighter.
Seconds. That’s all we have. Maybe five. The subtle hint of peaches and youth, the scent of summer and innocence reaches my nose. I breathe her in for one second, my exhale moving the soft wave of her hair in the next.
“Mr. Kavanagh.”
My ribs constrict around my lungs, squeezing the air out when her hand slides over my arm. Scraping her nails over my skin, her fingers stumble over my watch until finding mine and tangling. The instant ache in my groin shifts my attention from our joined hands to her ass. The same ass that rubs against my zipper. Shit. My dick swells against her backside and a low moan vibrates through her. Goddamn, a moan.
What the hell am I doing? I should leave. The inappropriateness of this situation is not lost on me, but I can’t move. Too intoxicated by her to do anything but squeeze her closer and berate myself for doing so. I’m her boss. She’s . . . Jesus Christ, she’s everything I shouldn’t crave yet I do. For a hundred foolish, selfish reasons, I want this woman.
She may make me insane . . . but I’m not crazy. Not yet anyway. And to keep my sanity intact, I grip her hips and push her forward, forcing some distance between us.
Maisie turns, flattening her shoulders against the bookcase. “Thank you. For saving me.” She clears her throat and waves at the ladder. “Heights are not my thing.”
In another second, her eyes dart from my thighs to the engorged cock in between them and then to my chin. Her gaze flies to the shelves behind me and then up, up to the rows of books. “Such a great library. I wouldn’t have thought . . . Not in a firm this size, not that it’s small. No, God no, it’s not small. Not by a long shot. I can see that. I mean, I know how big. No, that’s not right.” She shakes her head and starts again. “I know how stiff . . . uhm, staff . . .” Her voice trails off when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
A breathless laugh erupts from her mouth. And that fucking smile.
“That was all wrong,” she says, grinning like a loon.
Perfection. She is that—flawless and undeniably beautiful. Real.
I clench my teeth and block the urge to reach for her. Bring her flush with my chest, to feel her soft curves wrap around me.
“Mr. Kavanagh.” Her hand shoots out. “We haven’t officially met. Maisie Walker, newest and best—I assure you—legal assistant in the office. It may not seem that way. The brief—this morning. However, I promise my review is top-notch. All morning I’ve done nothing but think about it. The contract. I’ve worked on you in my mind. Ugh, the research. I’ve worked on the research.”
I stare, dumbfounded, at her perfectly painted pink nails and her long fingers stretched between us. That breathless laugh sounds off again and then she whispers so low I barely hear the words, “I don’t bite. Not too much anyway.”
My gaze jerks and narrows in on her sparkling blue eyes just before our palms connect. Fuck that tremor racing down my spine.
“What did you say?” I step in, hovering over her until she has to crane her neck to stay connected with my eyes. Her hand is gripped in mine. Trapped. Just like I feel when we’re in the same room.
“I mentioned my research.”
“There was something else.”
“No, I was definitely referencing my review. It’s taken all morning and now it brought me to the library. Your very large, well-endowed library. I’ve not encountered one in real life that’s hung in quite this way, only seen them on TV.”
“Hung?”
She bites her lip and the dimple, the one in her right cheek, dips into her porcelain skin and then disappears as she fights a smile.
“Of course I didn’t say hung. That would be a highly inappropriate adjective to describe a library. It’s strung with books, volumes and volumes of big, massive books. Color me impressed, Mr. Kavanagh.”
“Are you able to speak coherently?”
“Absolutely. But you’re standing really, really close to me. And you smell good too. Like cinnamon and leather and big, brutish man. You’re also holding my hand and although I’m not complaining, I have no idea what’s happening right now and I babble when I’m confused. So.”
Almost in spite of itself, the corner of my mouth tips up. “You like my library.”
Maisie nods and uses her free hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, but her eyes never leave mine. “Truly, I do.”
A part of me, the lawyer, wants to tell her how wrong this is, that it verges on a violation of firm policy. Then again, I’m enjoying every word out of her delicious mouth. And as the managing partner, I make the rules.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Walker?”
“That depends,” she says in that low breathy voice that gets me hard. “Were you staring at my breasts during the staff meeting, or just appreciating the faux mohair in my sweater?”
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