Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,73
a confession.
Mag: So you’ve joined my legal team now? Shame, you’ll be taking a pay cut.
I send an emoji with the tongue out and type, Whatever, boss. I already do a better job than they do saving your ass.
After work, I go back to the apartment, still getting barraged by messages from the Grump Who Gave Christmas and trying not to laugh.
Paige dances into the room with a green elf hat on and the world’s ugliest sweater.
“Um...you have jingle bells over your nipples,” I tell her, doing a double take.
“Oh, put that thing down, Brina!” she belts out, passing me a glass of mulled wine she just made. “The big man says no working whatsoever. It’s almost Christmas Eve!”
“The big man?”
“Ho, ho, ho!” she rumbles. “Word on the street is, he’s a lot higher up than that Magnum d-bag.”
Oof. I should’ve known.
“Need help wrapping stuff for your folks?”
She dives down on the sofa next to me and we talk about our holiday plans, never missing an opportunity to tell me to go out and get laid. I just tell her I need to get away.
Since she’ll be staying in the city, Paige lends me her car, and I drive home to the ’burbs. If I’m not going into the office every day, I might as well spend some time in my old bedroom. Except for Thanksgiving, I haven’t seen my parents nearly enough ever since Dad’s heart appointments.
I swing the front door open—still unlocked, sigh—and step inside.
It’s warm and cozy as ever with a crackling fire. My nostrils bristle, gingerbread and sugary goodness everywhere. I grin.
“I see Mom made cookies already,” I say, turning to lock the door. For the next few days, at least, I’ll know they’re safe.
Mom bolts in from the kitchen and hugs me, practically lifting me off my feet.
“This is the best Christmas ever! My baby is home, and I’m a bestseller!”
Oh, Magnus Heron.
You thought you were helping, but you’ve created an author-monster.
“Congratulations, Mom. And I come home for Christmas every year.”
She pats my cheek. “Oh, I know you do, because you’re the best daughter ever. Aren’t you pumped for my big win with Farm Love? Everybody adores Sir Oinkswell! My next book is gonna sell even more!”
She scrunches up her nose and makes this obnoxious pig noise.
Moms. Gotta love ’em, right?
I hug her again. “I know, and I’m so happy for you. But I’m just saying...don’t be surprised if it’s a while before you hit the list again. They can’t all be blockbusters.”
“Well, since I hit the list, I’ve been selling like a hundred more copies per day! And the reviews don’t lie. The people want sexy Marines taking down evil clowns and winning the girl.” Mom moves away from me and claps excitedly.
My smile falls. “You’re selling that many?”
Oh, crap. Heron, what the hell are you doing?
Because I haven’t been buying them. I find her book on my phone, and the reviews look genuine enough...
I’m just as surprised as anyone this boost might’ve been the kick she needed to hook a real audience. And if it’s all thanks to my beast of a boss, I have all the more reason to thank him.
She smiles so huge her face lights up. “Some of my other books are trickling in sales, too. The backlist is fired up and catching readers. I’m a real author, Brina. You’re going to see my stuff on Netflix and cable someday! It’s so exciting. I’ve been at this for twenty years.”
“I know,” I say stiffly. Yes, it’s so nice to see her happy, but I still can’t help feeling a little dishonest. “You deserve it, Mom, and so does Sir Oinkswell. Every last dollar.”
I oink back at her and she laughs. I’m just trying to squelch the firestorm in my head.
Also, I can’t decide if I want to crucify my boss or kiss him to death. But since the latter’s off-limits...
I go to my room to drop my bag down and text Mag where Mom can’t see.
Sabrina: Quit buying my mom’s books. She thinks she’s on her way to movie stardom or something, and I can’t buy enough books for her not to be crushed. I’m just your EA. You wanted it that way. Plus, I’m sure you’ve never purchased another assistant’s mother’s books.
Magnus: Don’t get your panties in a twist. I haven’t bought her books since we were in Arizona that day. It was a one-time thing.