All it took was one look at Harley to know I wanted her.
It wasn’t about the deliberate sexual dry spell I was going through either … the one I voluntarily participated in. No, there was something about her innocence and her vulnerability that had possessiveness running through my veins.
I wanted her as mine, and I’d have her. I’d show her that although I could be cruel to those who went up against me, when it came to her, I’d make the world bow down at her feet.
The intern position I had been offered was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but it also came with working for a man who had the most notorious reputation in the city.
Noah Wright was anything but Mr. Right, especially not with his arrogant, unforgiving, and tyrannical attitude. He was wealthy and gorgeous, but he struck fear into people with just a look. They knew who held the power when he was in the room. So did I.
And I was now working for him and getting an up close and personal experience with his cold, hardened, and abrasive personality … and it turned me on.
But there was something else under the frigid demeanor he showed everyone, a slice of warmth he showed only me. I knew if Noah wanted me, he could easily have me, because putting up a fight was not what I planned on doing.
I wanted him, but I wouldn’t be just a conquest. I wouldn’t make this easy for him.
Warning: Love insta-everything in a book? Like over the top sugary goodness? Want your stories dripping with cocky and possessive alpha heroes who only want one woman? Get a fan and a cold glass of water ready, because this story will definitely heat you up.
Why 1 star? Because it didn’t feel like a complete story, not even a short story. This is just a collection of scenes strung together by “Two months later… Several months later… A year later…” You get the picture? That’s not a finished manuscript; it’s a very rough draft (or lazy writing). And it shows.
There’s no background on either of the characters, the plot is trite and flimsy, and the opening where Noah Wright and Harley Alexander met felt vaguely familiar to Anna and Christian’s first meeting in his office in 50 Shades of Grey/Grey.
All in all, the inner monologues and dialogue read like cheesy porn; there’s very little elements of actual romance; and at times Noah uses terms that don’t sound like something a man would say. He also spends a lot of time in these short pages rambling about his bodily fluids—spunk/jizz. Ugg! There’s an overload of flat dirty talk that just feels stale.
While the blurb warns that it’s insta-lust, that might be fine if you could feel the chemistry between them, but the scenario is so stereotypical that connecting with the characters is a difficult task. Noah and Harley getting to know each other, yet alone falling in love, is never depicted and the reader is forced to assume it happens in the missing pages (i.e. the months of their lives that isn’t written).
Told via Noah and Harley’s first person POV, there’s just no character development, and that’s a basic element of fiction needed for the reader to care about the characters. Basically the blurb tells you all you’re going to get about these two so my recommendation is just stop there.
I knew this job would be challenging, but I’d had no idea working for this man would have me on the verge of drinking every single night. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact he was so arrogant.
This had to do with the fact my libido was out of control where Mr. Wright was concerned.
He annoyed me, got under my skin, but the way I caught him watching me, looking at me like I was this sweet little morsel he wanted to get his claws into, had my body feeling like it was on fire.
But then again, he was so hard on me, and right now knowing I’d screwed up the file he’d presented to his team made me feel like shit.
He stood just a few feet from me, staring at my mouth, making me even more aware of his presence. He had me so on edge I felt like flames licked through my veins, and I stood on this ledge, waiting to crash down. I wanted him so badly, but I knew I could never have him.
He was my boss, and I certainly didn’t need an overbearing, career-driven man like him in my personal life, right?
“You can leave now,” he said, and I forced myself to take a step back. Could he tell I wasn’t only nervous but also aroused? I couldn’t help it. Being in his presence had my blood pressure rising to dangerous levels.
And the way he smelled … God, the scent was so masculine and intoxicating.
For a second I stared at him, knowing I needed to get out of there, breathe some fresh air, and get my thoughts in order. But I couldn’t move. Instead I took in the three-piece suit he wore, the dark blue material almost appearing black. His deep blue tie was in perfect place, and the white shirt beneath the vest was stark, crisp.
I’d never seen a man so masculine, the epitome of what I craved and wanted, but with Noah Wright I saw that, felt that, so much. It was like I was going to combust.
“Something else, Harley?” He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes heavy-lidded.
God, the way my name—my first name that was so inappropriate it made me hotter—rolled off his tongue in that sexual timbre made me instantly wet. I prayed the suit jacket I wore covered my shirt and that my nipples were hard. Hell, if it didn’t cover my breasts, I knew he’d see how tight the tips were.
And as if he had read my mind or I’d said the words aloud, he glanced down. The urge to cover my chest, to hide my body’s reaction to his presence, was strong. I didn’t want to, but I found myself doing it on instinct. I grabbed the edge of my jacket, closed it slightly, but all I felt was my breasts pressing together.
I saw the way he swallowed, the way his throat worked, and the way his entire body seemed tense.
God, the sexual chemistry I felt with him was so strong, but for the last two months, I’d kept busy, not about to try and let those emotions and feelings consume me.
I’m doing a shit job.
And I was. God, I was doing a shit job.
“No, Sir,” I finally said, smoothed my sweaty palms down my thighs, turned, and left. I swear I felt his eyes on me, and when I reached his door, grabbed the handle, and was about to open it, I looked over my shoulder. I don’t know why I did, but I caught him checking out my ass. He slowly lifted his gaze to mine, seemingly unashamed or apologetic that he’d just gotten caught.
No, he seemed pleased I’d seen him.
Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.