BCC: A Lesbian Romance

By Lauren Gallagher

Morgan hates her job. She didn't bust her hump to get an IT certification so she could spend her days reading employee emails. Unfortunately, what the boss says, goes, and he has her on email detail until they find out who's been embezzling.

About the only redeeming feature of working for this company is getting to steal glances at the head of engineering and tech support, Courtney James. What Morgan wouldn't do for the confidence just to strike up a conversation. Asking Courtney out? Not a chance.

When an email tips her off that the crush is mutual, though, Morgan's torn between making a move and pretending she never saw the message. Her heart and body say to go for it. Her conscience says to leave well enough alone.

The one thing she can't do, however, is forget about it…

Approximately 20,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GallagherWitt
• Release date: May 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781943426546

Lauren Gallagher

Lauren Gallagher is an abnormal romance writer currently living in the wilds of Omaha, Nebraska. She and her husband, along with a coyote-iguana hybrid and two and a half cats, are thought to be in hiding from the Polynesian Mafia and a debt collector in search of a fine for an overdue book from the Library of Alexandria. Lauren continues to skillfully, if somewhat clumsily, elude them, but continues to have run-ins with her arch nemesis, M/M erotic romance author L. A. Witt. The implementation of Operation: I Don't Think So is expected to resolve that problem soon enough.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"I don’t have to like my job, I said to the steering wheel. I just have to do it."

And if I wanted to keep said job—or at least the paycheck—I needed to get out of my car and into the building before I got fired. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. This was only until I found another gig, which I would work on tonight as soon as I got home. Pity I couldn’t just up and quit, but those student loans weren’t going to pay themselves, my landlord wasn’t willing to wait just a few more days, please! again, and apparently eating was a thing.

Finally, I switched off the car, grabbed my purse off the passenger seat, and headed into the shiny three-story post-modern building with the gleaming JBT sign out front.

It was amazing how quickly things could change in a month. When I’d started here, I’d practically skipped up the sidewalk and had been so excited to swipe my badge, I’d almost forgotten how. To be fair, I’d been working double shifts at minimum wage for eighteen months while I’d finished my IT certification, and this was my first real job since the bank had laid me off two years ago. A girl’s allowed to be excited when she’s about to get paid enough to not only fill the gas tank all the way, but maybe replace the sputtering old Honda and get something manufactured within the last twenty years.

So I’d come strolling in here, giddy and ready to earn that real, adult paycheck…

And now, a month later, I had to show up twenty minutes early so I’d have time to talk myself into getting out of the car and walking inside.

I’ll apply for everything I qualify for tonight. I swiped my badge. And maybe a few things I don’t qualify for. Couldn’t hurt, right?

The red LED turned green, and the latch on the door clicked. I plastered on a professional face—a smile was a bit much at this point—and walked inside.

Morning, Morgan, Wendy the receptionist chirped from behind her high desk. How are you?

I’m good. I did manage to force a smile for a couple of seconds. How about you?

She shrugged, smiling with a little more feeling than I could muster. Ready for Friday.

I laughed. Yeah. Me too. Have a good day!

You too.

I kept walking to the stairs. There was an elevator, and I’d taken it the first few days I’d worked here, but sometimes that meant riding with my coworkers. And that was just… uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like them. I didn’t know any of them, but they seemed like perfectly nice people. I just hated being around them because I felt so conspicuous and guilty.

I have nothing to feel guilty about. I gritted my teeth as I forced myself up the first flight of stairs. I’m just doing my job.

They kept inviting me out after work on Friday nights, but I always made excuses not to go. I wasn’t antisocial or anything, and I didn’t have anything against hanging out with coworkers. In fact, I really, really wanted to make friends here or somewhere because I knew next to no one in this town aside from my roommate.

But it wasn’t easy to look people in the eye and try to forge a friendship when I already knew all kinds of damning information about them. They’d have been mortified if they knew half the things I’d seen. Tracy in accounting was super sweet, but I’d have to pretend I didn’t know she was sleeping with Mark down from shipping. Even if she confided that in me for some reason, I’d have to bite my tongue because Mark was also banging Kelli from engineering.

It wasn’t even all sordid affairs and soap operas. I just knew too much about people. I would’ve loved to grab coffee with anyone in tech support, but that would be a challenge when I knew Phil’s marriage was on the brink of collapse, Jennifer’s daughter was in trouble with the cops again, and Kevin was trying to work up the courage to come out as Karen. They all deserved their privacy, and they’d be disgusted if they knew how much I knew about their personal lives. What was I supposed to do? Go to Karen and say I supported her and had her back, and oh by the way I knew because I was paid to read every e-mail that went through James-Bailey Tech?

I groaned to myself as I cleared the top step and started down the hall toward my office. This sucked. I’d been here a month and I knew way too much about way too many people in this company, and I hated it.

But this is what you get that real adult paycheck for, so suck it up and do it until you find something else.

I shuffled into my office, shut the door behind me, and dropped into my chair. At least I had my own office. Tech support, customer service, and engineering departments were open plan departments, which would’ve driven me crazy even if my job hadn’t been to spy on everyone. Thank God for a door to keep out the noise and hide my shame.

As my computer started up, I sat back and stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. Everyone here knew their work e-mail accounts were monitored. Or could be. Most people assumed it was just an empty threat to keep them from screwing off on company time, but still. They knew it was a possibility that someone was reading every single e-mail they sent or received.

And I wasn’t looking for personal dirt on anybody, or trying to bust them for inappropriate use of the e-mail system. I was on a specific mission to find out who was embezzling from the company.

"I don’t know how all