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Read Online Books/Novels:

Climax

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Holly Hart

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B072QW61JC
Book Information:

Wanna hear a dirty little secret?
No guy has ever gotten me off!
At least, it was a secret, until my boss saw my journal.
Now he’s making me a promise I can’t resist…

I won a war, lost a wife, and raised a beautiful baby girl.
But I left the SEALs scarred and broken. I swore off women for good.
Until Skye.
She’s innocent, curvy, and makes my company tick.
But I discovered her deepest secret: she’s never had an O.
I made her a deal: You fix me and I’ll fix you…
I’m gonna fix her, all right, right there in her own office!
Skye’s gonna learn fast:
There’s more to this contract than meets the eye.

And there’s a first time for everything. It won’t be her last

Climax is a standalone romance with extra steamy bonus content included! Holly Hart always gives you a Happy Ever After, she hates cheating with a passion, and cliffhangers just as much as you do!

Books by Author:

Holly Hart Books

Part I

Climax

Wanna hear a dirty little secret?

No guy has ever gotten me off!

At least, it was a secret, until my boss saw my journal.

Now he’s making me a promise I can’t resist…

I won a war, lost a wife, and raised a beautiful baby girl.

But I left the SEALs scarred and broken. I swore off women for good.

Until Skye.

She’s innocent, curvy, and makes my company tick.

But I discovered her deepest secret: she’s never had an O.

I made her a deal: You fix me and I’ll fix you…

I’m gonna fix her, all right, right there in her own office!

Skye’s gonna learn fast:

There’s more to this contract than meets the eye.

And there’s a first time for everything. It won’t be her last

1

Skye

I’m lost in the glow thrown out by my smartphone as I walk past my assistant, Tyler. I know; cool, right!

“Skye, there’s –.”

“Just give me a second, Tyler, okay?” I mutter; missing what should have been my first warning.

I’m reading an article from one of those British psychiatry journals. I guess most people don’t find that sort of thing interesting, but I live and breathe therapy. It’s not just my job; it’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid.

“Um okay, I guess–,” Tyler says in a stifled, anguished squeal.

His shriek should have been my second warning.

I push the door to my office open without looking at it, and almost bump my forehead against the frosted glass in the process. I kick off my flats and wander to my chair. I know the contours of my little office like the back of my hand. I could find my way around – missing every cabinet, or locating any file I needed – even if the room was pitch black.

And I was blindfolded.

I guess my third warning should have been the scent of spicy cologne wafting through the air. But my brain takes a couple of seconds too long to process the smell, as well.

The glass door closes with a hiss behind me.

“You must be Skye?”

The voice startles me. It sounds familiar, in a long-lost kind of way. My body searches for adrenaline and dumps it straight into my veins. The clever, self-assured, rational part of my brain switches off, and I go into survival mode. I rack my brain.

What did Tyler say?

I look up to see a man standing in the office – My office – and he’s reading My journal. The notebook which chronicles every last embarrassment that has happened to me, all of my darkest fears, and –

– My secret.

I freak out, and rush towards the man, knocking the journal out of his hands. Some of the pages crumple against the floor.

“Who the hell are you?” I yell and recklessly ask, “and what are you doing in My office?”

The man takes a step back. He doesn’t seem intimidated or put off by my – slightly crazy – reaction. In fact, a smile tickles his lips.

“I think you’ll find, Skye, that this is in fact my office.”

“Oh. My. God,” I whimper.

Not some play whimper; a very real I’m-a-scared-little-puppy whimper. Because right now, I know that I’ve fucked up: like lose-your-dream-job bad fucked up.

Because the man standing in front of me is Harlan Wolfe – not just the third richest man in New York – the CEO of Wolfe Capital.

Meaning, therefore, he is my boss …

… technically speaking …

… because before now, I’ve never seen the man. He owns the company, sure: it’s his name that’s plastered across the office building’s front. But people like Harlan are supposed to stay on floors a whole lot higher than mine.

“There’s no need for that,” he grins, sticking out his hand, “just call me Harlan.”

I just stare at the floating hand.

I’ve got no idea how to act. How the heck am I supposed to dig myself out of a hole this deep? I just practically assaulted the freaking CEO. Worse, if you can believe it, is what he might have read in my journal. Most of it contains just embarrassing thoughts: my hopes, fears, and any problem I might have had during the day. I’m pretty sure I’ve never bitched about the company, at least…

But there’s one secret that would kill me if anyone found out.

“I’m – I’m so sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t – I mean – I didn’t know it was you. I mean, that you were you.” I clam up, and clap my hand across my offending mouth. I play back what I just said in my head and cringe. I sound like an idiot.

Harlan looks at me with an expression shaded by pity. Then he glances at his outstretched arm. When it’s obvious that I’m too panicked to shake his hand, he lets it fall to his side.

“I should hope not,” Harlan says, still grinning broadly.

It’s like all this is a game to him. I guess, when you’re worth twenty billion dollars, life is just one big strategy game.


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