Bad Boss

By Lolah Lace

Being a Bad Boss never felt so damn good.

Robin MacDowell’s luck changes for the better when she lands a comfortable new job making more money. Getting to know her new boss proves to be challenging when his handsome good looks start to distract her from doing her job. Even if Robin can keep it strictly professional can her boss follow suit?

Bad Boss is a steamy, office romance with BW heroine, hot love scenes, a sexy WM alpha hero with commitment issues. This is book one of three.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lolah Lace
• Release date: Jun 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463713556

Lolah Lace

Lolah Lace is a best selling author of Erotic Romantic Fiction in various sub genres. She currently resides in the Chicagoland area. She started her writing career as a teleplay and screenplay writer before switching gears and tackling a novel. She spends most of her spare time reading and watching ridiculous amounts of TV. She is passionate about writing and has a wealth of unfinished books she plans to finish. Although she has been writing for years, Let's Play Ball is her first erotic interracial romance book. She decided to make it into a series of seven books called Balls To The Walls Erotica Series. Lolah Lace is currently hard at work writing the sequel to La Femme Selita and the highly anticipated The Truth Behind The Lies Book 2. For the latest news, freebies and exclusive offers sign up to her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/bsmAGf

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ihated waiting around. Today I had to wait for my mother to pick me up from work. I felt like I was back in high school. Here I am, a twenty-eight-year-old woman waiting for my mother to pick me up. I could’ve gotten an Uber but my mother would’ve died if I wasted any money. I still didn’t know how much it would cost to fix my piece of shit car.

So instead of getting home at a reasonable time, I had to wait around until she got off from her work. I had to hang around my job for an extra hour. It was a ghost town here at Trubeau Technologies.

Instead of sitting in the lobby or the cafeteria I stayed in the mailroom. I didn’t want anyone to see me here after hours. I felt kind of stupid just hanging around. I knew it was all in my head but I thought people would know I didn’t have a husband or a boyfriend. Maybe they would ask me why I didn’t call an Uber. Who knows? I think too much. It’s my business, not theirs. So, who cares?

I had my head down in my cell phone when I looked up and saw him standing above me. It was Jerry Fletcher. I made sure I remembered the name of every employee I had come into contact with since I started this job.

Jerry worked upstairs somewhere. He was a very thin man in his fifties. He was losing his hair, but he didn’t seem to care. He came down to the mailroom a few times a week, but he never said more than good morning to me. He only talked to Martin Turner, my stuper-visor, I mean supervisor.

I wasn’t sure what Jerry did at this business but I knew he was an important person at Trubeau. This company had only employed me for six months. So I was quite sure he didn’t even know my name.

My area, the mailroom was in the basement and the big wigs never came down here. They sent their secretaries to handle whatever packages they were shipping or picking up. I knew nothing about the mail operation although I worked in the mailroom. I was a purchaser. I made sure there were enough printer paper, staplers and office supplies nice and handy.

I hoped I wasn’t in trouble. Why would I be? I couldn’t recall doing anything I wasn’t supposed to be doing. I was always a model employee at every job I ever held. If he was looking for Martin he was out of luck. Martin rarely ever stayed a minute after five.

I watched as Mr. Fletcher’s eyes scanned the room. There wasn’t much to see in the basement.

Hello. He spoke first.

Hello, Mr. Fletcher, did you need something? I stood because it felt strange to be sitting.

Yes, maybe. Are you the last one here?

Clearly, I was. Yes, it’s just me. My car is in the shop. I’m waiting for my ride to come to pick me up. I didn’t want to tell all my business, but I was feeling a little nervous all alone in the mailroom with Mr. Fletcher. I needed to give him an explanation for why I was the only one still at work after six.

Huh, well it’s a good thing for me you had a little car trouble. He smiled warmly but I couldn’t return his smile because I didn’t know where he was going with his odd comment. Your name is Robin right?

Shit, he knows my name. Yes, Robin MacDowell.

How long have you been working here?

Just about six months.

Things working out so far?

Yes.

I’m here in the mailroom because I was hoping someone would still be hanging around and supervisor Turner isn’t here?

No, he’s already gone home for the day. We already established that I’m alone. Did you want to leave him a message? I didn’t know what good it would do. It was Friday. The work-week was over.

No, that won’t be necessary. Maybe you can help me.

I can try.

One of our employees quit her job without any notice.

That’s not good.

Terrible actually. I have this position I must fill as soon as possible.

Oh.

I guess I can offer it to you since you’re the only one here.

Okay, am I qualified?

I’m sure you are. The position has weird hours. I know I’m not supposed to ask this but do you have children but—?

No, I don’t have any children.

That’s good, only because this job would take up some of your free time. It has unconventional hours.

I had nothing but time. I wasn’t in a relationship. I didn’t even have any prospects. I stopped going to the library book club meetings months ago. I was free as the breeze.

Robin, let me cut to the chase. Do you know Andrew Trubeau?

The man that owns this company? Why would I know him? Hello, I work in the mailroom.

Yes, he runs and owns Trubeau Technologies.

I’ve never met him.

He needs a personal assistant. The last assistant quit without proper notice. He said that already.

That was very unprofessional. I didn’t know what else to say.

Yes, it was, but Mr. Trubeau has a hard time keeping assistants.

Why? I’ve never been a personal assistant before.

It’s technically not hard at all. You get his coffee. You get his lunch. You shadow him when he has meetings. You take notes. You basically just do what he asks.

Sounds simple enough.

It is. It’s not the work. It’s more of rather or not you match up, work ethics and personality wise. Normally, Mr. Trubeau has two personal assistants. There’s Sharon Rudd, she is more of an administrative assistant. You would be a runner, an on-body personal assistant. You would work closely with Sharon but you would probably have more personal contact with Mr. Trubeau. Sharon works nine to five from her desk. Your hours would be up to Mr. Trubeau. Is this something you would be interested in?

Not really. But I couldn’t say that. "Yes,