Not Suitable For Work :The Nashville Anti-Belles: Books to Make You Laugh, Cry, & Swoon by Skye McDonald ➱ Book Sale with Rafflecopter
The Nashville Anti-Belles: Books to Make You Laugh, Cry, & Swoon
Not Suitable For Work
Anti-Belle Book 1
by Skye McDonald
Genre: Contemporary Romance
The competition is stiff. The stakes are high. But is the gamble worth it? Can a shattered heart be mended as Celeste Greene and Ben Addison navigate office rivalry and sizzling attraction?
Celeste Green has returned to Nashville broken-hearted and penniless. Getting back on her feet is the only goal after she threw everything away on love and empty promises in New York City. Ben Addison needs a day job. After he foolishly risked his heart and his reputation on a pretty face and a shot at a music career, Ben’s only goal is stability.
Sparks fly as Celeste and Ben battle it out for a crucial web design position. It’s a job they both can't afford to lose. While they're used to competition, the magnetic pull they share is a whole new challenge. With the pressure rising, Celeste's choice becomes clear: risk heartache again, or sacrifice more than her paycheck. Will love or ambition win out? Buy now and out in this rollercoaster of emotions that'll keep you hooked from start to finish!
“And
Ben...oh my goodness Ben...add him to my favorite book boyfriends of
all time. Not only is he a killer web designer, but he's also a
musician/songwriter. YES, PLEASE.” – Amazon Review
“The chemistry between the main characters made it impossible to put down. I was willing a HEA all the way through (no spoilers). I immediately downloaded the author’s next book.” - Amazon Review
**On Sale for Only $1.99 for a limited time!**
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The Not So Nice Girl
Prequel to Not Suitable For Work
Read the prequel to NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK and find out where it all began! Go back to the summer of 86 for this friends-to-lovers romp.
Eleanor Field wants nothing more than to spend a drama-free summer in Nashville, listening to rock n' roll and baking pastries. But her plans are derailed when she walks into a local record shop and meets Sam Greene, a newly graduated, newly single guy who's looking for a stress-free summer of his own. Despite their instant attraction, neither of them is looking for anything serious. But as they continue to spend time together, their friendship lays the groundwork for something deeper.
Set in the summer of 1986, The Not So Nice Girl is a heartwarming romance about two people who find love when they least expect it. Eleanor and Sam share a mutual love of music, a deep connection, and a group of friends who bring them even closer. But can they overcome their baggage and fears to take their relationship to the next level? Can Eleanor, a free spirit who's always on the move, admit that she's found a home in Sam? And can Sam, a sweet guy who's too nice for his own good, be bold enough to say what he really wants?
With its 80s setting and rock n' roll soundtrack, The Not So Nice Girl is a nostalgic and romantic read that will transport you to a time of mixtapes, pastries, and first love. Don't miss out on this charming story of friendship, love, and the power of taking a chance.
The Not So Nice Girl
Sam
Setup:
It’s the summer of 1986. Sam is hanging out at Stacked Records, his favorite
spot, manning the counter when a stranger walks in.
When the door chimed, Sam was
absorbed in an article about Berlin and the music of a divided country. “We’re
closed,” he muttered without looking up. “Come back in an hour.”
“I called about an album—”
“Closed,” he insisted,
flipping the page.
“You’re definitely open. Door:
unlocked. Register: manned.”
Her voice got a lot more
insistent—and a lot closer. A small hand with dirty fingernails spread across
the maga- zine, so slowly Sam looked up.
Sea glass. Emeralds. My undoing.
Sam found himself gazing
into the most unreal green eyes he’d ever seen. Half a second later, everything
got worse. The face that held those eyes was the same one he’d seen on Monica’s
couch two weeks ago. That fair skin and golden-blonde hair which had glowed in
the moonlight were impossibly better in the light of day.
A heartbeat after that, things got even worse. She smiled
at him.
All of this couldn’t have
taken more than thirty seconds, but Sam felt every moment in his pounding
pulse.
She cleared her throat.
“Well?”
“Well?” he echoed.
Another smile twitched her
lips. “Well, I’m right, right? Open?”
“Oh, uh, well.” Sam fell over
himself, running a hand through his hair and looking
toward the back room. “Uh, it’s,” he fumbled again.
Myrtle saved him by shuffling
around the counter to greet the new customer. Her tail wagged as she sniffed
the air.
“Ooh, what a cutie!” the girl
exclaimed.
Thanks, girl. Sam thanked the dog for the double bonus of
distraction and the flash of cleavage in the V-neck tee he caught when she bent
to pet her.
“That’s Myrtle,” he said,
semi-coherent at last. “She is pretty cute.”
“I wasn’t talking about the
dog,” she murmured. The teasing flash of green eyes through her bangs did
something almost painful to his lungs.
Sam’s jaw hit the counter.
She straightened and threw her
head back with a delighted laugh. “I always wanted to have the setup to use
that line. Read it in Cosmo years
ago. What did you think?”
“Extremely... smooth?” Sam
reached for the right adjective, beginning to smile at last.
She leaned elbows on the
counter across from him so they could regard each other. Her dark blonde brows
drew together. “Smooth? Are chicks supposed to be smooth?”
“What were you going for?
Alluring? Surprising? Flattering?”
She struck a deep-thinking
pose with her chin in her hand. Sam furrowed his brows in mock-serious
commiseration, relieved to at least be verbal again. Finally, she said, “I
think I hoped it’d be—”
“It was. Absolutely,” he
assured her with a nod before she could finish. She laughed again, and Sam was
tempted to punch the air in triumph.
“Look, I’ve got places to be.
Are you going to help me or not?”
“Do you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Have places to be.”
She made a show of studying
the magazine’s cover. “Not really,” she admitted. “But I want my album. You
promised it would be in today, and—”
Sam stood up straight and
shook his head. “I really don’t work here. The owner, Mac, is busy... But, um,
what album are you looking for? Maybe it’s in this pile.”
“Red Hot Chili Peppers.” She
began to examine the mountain of LPs on the counter.
“What? Is that the album or the band?”
“Both.”
Sam moved behind the stack. It
was so high that he couldn’t see her anymore as they began switch-hitting,
pulling titles off to create two new piles. When they’d moved enough of them
that she reappeared, he was treated to another smile as their eyes locked. The
happiness this girl radiated made it very damn hard for Sam to not look like a
total fool in front of her.
To be fair, he thought he
usually looked like a total fool in front of distractingly gorgeous women.
The Not So Nice Girl
Eleanor
She slipped into the bathroom to wash her face and
hands. She didn’t bother to turn on the light in her hurry to join her friends
in the backyard.
She’d just buried her face in the hand towel when the
door swung open and hit her squarely in the ass.
“Shit,” they cried in harmony. Eleanor spun around,
slapping on the lights in a panic.
The gorgeous navy-blue eyes that locked on hers made
her pulse even more erratic.
“Hi,” he said with a grin, then winced. “I’m so
sorry. I had no idea someone was in here—in the dark,” he accused gently.
“No, it’s totally fine. I was just washing my face. I
had enough light from the hall.”
He paused, leaned backward to peek out the door, then
looked back at her.
Get out of here, her sensible side
warned. Small spaces had a bad precedent between them,
but Eleanor’s feet weren’t in a hurry. She leaned against the sink, knocking a
can of Aqua Net to the ground when she did. The clatter made her jump.
“I’ve always been amazed at the sheer quantity of
products that counter can hold and not buckle under the weight,” he said
lightly.
Eleanor grinned as she scooped the can up and found
its place.
“Dare I ask for a tour of all this?”
“Oh, that’s forbidden information.”
“Come on. Just one. What does, hmm, this one do?” He
reached around, too close for too short a time, and held the item aloft. The
metal glinted in the low light.
“Okay, but only one. That’s an eyelash curler. It’s
not mine, but you use it like this.” She mimed the act of curling one’s
eyelashes, and his brows rose to his hairline.
“Why would you curl your lashes?”
“To make them pretty, duh.” She dropped the device
again and crossed her arms. “No more secrets.”
Eleanor could hear the smile in his voice when he
said, “Monica mentioned at dinner that you’d come back to Nashville.”
“Yeah, sorry about the surprise. I’ll try not to
wreak too much havoc on your friend circle.”
He snorted. “God, thank you. That’s exactly what I thought when I heard.”
She snapped her eyes to him with a glare that was
more of a smile. “No, I mean... I really can be a nice girl. I’m not here
trying to find any trouble.”
“I’m not trouble.”
“Well, I am.”
They both startled at the snarl in her voice.
She drew a deep breath and tried again. “I know I was
supposed to be your crazy one-and-done, and it’s weird that we’re in the same
friend group, but I can be cool.”
“Yeah?” he murmured.
“Yeah. So, um, I’m going outside now.”
Except he caught her gaze when she walked past him to the door. And since he
did, she heard herself saying, “I need a second chance. A redo on our meeting.
To prove I’m a perfectly nice person who belongs in this amazing group.”
“I don’t think you need that at all.”
“I really do, though. Please?”
He nodded once. “Fine. Granted.”
Fresh slate. I don’t deserve it, but god
knows I could use it.
Why, then, she shut the door and snapped the lock,
she wasn’t really sure.
She also couldn’t be sure who moved first. All she
knew was that one second, she was in control of this situation, and the next,
she was against the wall with his tongue in her mouth, completely, blissfully,
out of control.
“Oh, god,” she moaned as his lips and teeth raked her
jaw. “Why is this happening? Why can’t I stop?” she gasped when she finally
tore away.
Sam mumbled against her skin. “Science,” he rumbled
in a voice deep with lust.
Eleanor paused. “Excuse me?”
The tornado of their motion slowed, leaving them breathless and gazing at each
other. She was still in his arms, but the touching had stopped. Slowly, his
arms wrapped around her waist.
“Science,” he repeated.
The word never sounded so sinful.
He smiled. “That’s why we can’t stop if you want a
rational answer. I’m no biologist, but—”
She snorted. “Aren’t you?”
His eyes glinted. “I’m a chemist.”
“Oh.”
“I want you, Eleanor,” he said, too blunt and too tempting.
There was no point in saying she disagreed. But damn
science, reason needed to have her say. “That’s a huge mistake. We have to be
friends. We can’t fool around like this. We—I’m—”
A pounding on the door had her blood coursing cold.
“Did you get lost, Sammy?” Monica called.
They leapt apart. He called out, “No, Mon. Out in a
sec.”
“Okay, buddy,” she sang.
They were silent for a long moment. Finally, Sam
sighed and leaned against the wall beside her. “You want to be friends.”
“I made a vow. No boys. No drama. No mess. Tennessee
is a landing pad. It’s time for me to get it right. To grow up and get my head
on straight. I need to not come into this group and shake everything up. I’m
not staying long, anyway. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I... It’s fine. Friends it is.” He
stood up, flashed a crooked smile, and held out his hand.
Eleanor shook it, rocked with regret from the moment
their palms touched.
Not Suitable
for Work
Ben
Drinks, food, and conversation filled the table. From
the corner of my eye, I noticed Celeste cradling her beer while she listened to
the group talk about college football. She twisted her head to look around the
room, and I abandoned subtlety and watched her until her gaze landed on me.
Her mouth softened into a tiny smile, just a flash,
but it was enough. Here we go. I took
another swallow of beer and stood up, rounding the table to the vacant chair
beside her. My sleeve brushed against her silky white shirt. She sat up
straighter, knees angled toward me.
“Why did you come out tonight?” she asked abruptly,
saving me from asking the same thing.
“Because I wanted to.” Because I wanted this moment right here. Because I’ve been dying to
talk to you.
Her chin lifted, a saucy little move, almost playful.
“You said you wanted to come if I did. So, don’t you mean because I wanted to?”
“No, I said I’d go if you did.” I chuckled. “It
seemed right to see if you could compete with me on a different playing field.”
What am even I talking about?
Celeste flipped her hair and went with my nonsense.
“I can compete with you with one hand tied behind my back.”
My blood began to pound at the host of filthy images
that statement conjured. I let my gaze travel over her face,
down to where
one lock of hair rested against her collar. It looked dark brown in the dim
bar, but I knew her hair was a rich auburn that blazed when the light caught
it.
I met her eyes again. “I’m sure you can, Ms. Greene.
Now, ask me a different question.”
“Why would I do that, Benjamin?” she asked, her voice
all throaty.
I swallowed a groan, but her brows twitched and told
me she knew how much I liked hearing her say my name. To return the favor, I
damn near hissed hers when I said, “Because that’s what people do when they’re
having a conversation, Celeste.”
She squirmed. Aww,
what’s the matter? Feeling a little tense? Want me to make it better—or worse?
“Which do you go by, Benjamin or Ben?”
“Either is fine, but my friends call me Ben.”
“Your turn, Benjamin.” She tipped her
glass toward me.
I smirked at the implication and bypassed pleasantries.
“Do you hate me?”
She startled. “Honestly? A little, yeah.”
“Seems unfair. Why do you hate me a little?” I used her words to tease her and
keep us from getting too serious.
“You’re another roadblock in my life. I hate fighting
for a job I know I can do very well. Plus, you’re a jerk.”
I itched to ask for elaboration on that roadblock
comment but knew better. Instead, I widened my eyes and put a hand on my heart.
“I’m a jerk? Ouch. Maybe I could say the same thing about you.”
She didn’t smile. In fact, she looked away, lips
parted to take in a breath. “I know. I’m good with that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t care what you think of me.”
Bullshit. “No, you want me to
think you’re a jerk. The real question is why?”
The flush of alcohol that had begun to tinge her
cheeks morphed into an angry blush.
“Next question, please,” I said before she could shut
this down.
It worked. Her pinched forehead smoothed as her color
ebbed. “Are you glad you’re here, Benjamin?”
I reached for my beer, suddenly thirsty again. Once
I’d drank, I looked into her expectant eyes and gave her the God’s honest
truth. “Definitely.”
“What do you think, Addison? Do the Vols have a
chance this year?”
I didn’t want to look away, mostly because I knew the
guy who’d spoken—Joe, I think his name was—had been eyeing Celeste across the
table all night. His loud, pointed question was clearly a way to butt into our
conversation.
Not Suitable for Work
Celeste
I could barely hold myself together. I’d lost—
failed—again. Facing it in front of him was
the last thing I wanted to do.
“Listen,” he said.
I glared over my shoulder with pure loathing, but if
it was for him or for me, I’m not sure. Far more sharply than I’d like to
admit, I barked, “We have nothing to say to each other. I’ll be back on Monday,
and I will hand you your ass on the next project, understand?”
His brows lowered into a scowl. I froze when he
rounded the desk and stalked to me. He was so close, I could see the details of
his long eyelashes framing his gray eyes.
“Go away. I
hate you, I hate Nashville, I hate this contest. Just go away.” Without
thinking, I opened my palm and swung for his face. He grabbed my wrist well
before I made contact. I screeched and used my left hand to shove his chest,
but he caught that one, too.
Benjamin cuffed my wrists. I flailed, and he let me,
all the while holding on.
“Dammit, Addison,” I grunted.
“Dammit, Greene.
You can’t hit me, for god’s sake.”
That made me pause. Shame and self-loathing kept me
short of breath. My spine pressed into the desk when I took half a step back.
He followed.
I gave up and slammed my hands down on the desk.
Benjamin’s fingertips stroked the crevices of my fingers, so I spread them wide
and let him lace our hands together. Oh,
my, that’s nice, too.
“Are you through?” he asked after a pause.
“Just warming up.”
“Hmm. How warm do you intend to get?”
We breathed onto each other’s faces in ragged gasps. Despite the tempest in my
heart, his presence soothed me.
I heaved a sigh, just for the pleasure of the rise of
my breasts against his chest. I took another deep inhale, and this time let my
whole body arch. Benjamin groaned
when my pelvis pressed into his.
A wicked smile curved my lips. “Speaking of warm,” I
taunted and flexed against him again. “Shame on you, getting all worked up from
fighting with me.”
His gray eyes were glassy, but he bent his head, lips
almost on mine, and teased me right back. “I’m not the only one. If Rollings
walked in now, how could you explain yourself? How could you explain why you
want me to restrain you, and what would you tell him about why you’re bright
red?”
“Easy. I’m pissed at you,” I huffed.
He laughed, literally in my face. “Come on, Celeste.
Shame on me? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not worked up. Say with a
straight face that the reason your eyes are so bright has nothing to do with
wanting me to find out how warm you
are.”
I inhaled sharply. Warm was the least of my problems. Can underwear dissolve? Because I think mine just did. “I admit
nothing.”
“You don’t have to. I can see it. You’re hot as hell,
and you’re wondering how much hotter I can make you.”
My tongue stuck in my throat. I wanted to be
fearless, but dammit he’d stolen all
my reason with that rumbled dare. I took a breath and licked my lips. “I need
us to be enemies,” I whispered.
“Mm-hmm. It’s not working.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
Benjamin tilted his head. “There’s always a choice.”
I nodded slowly. “True. I can choose to file a complaint against you.
Unsuitable office behavior.”
He grinned when my lips twitched. “I can do the same. Assault in the
workplace.”
His smile dimmed and turned thoughtful as his gaze
cut to our hands. “Is that the choice we want to make? Or should we explore
other options?”
His question took a long, sultry slide from my ears
to my core. God, he can make anything
sound sexy. I wanted to kiss him more than I’d ever wanted to kiss someone
in my life. I wanted his lips and tongue, his hands, my hands in his hair. I
wanted his body, my legs around his back, my back on the desk. I wanted him to
make me laugh again.
I wanted to laugh like I used to,
before I was this version of me.
Benjamin assessed my expression and wet his lips.
“Come with me tonight, Celeste.” He bent a little closer and laughed softly.
“We can explore all the options you want.”
Every part of my being wanted to take that offer.
Every part—except the part that knew enough to know better. I shook my head,
and the moment was over.
He inched backward and lifted his hands from mine,
taking all that warmth with him.
“We’re in trouble.” I sighed.
“No kidding.”
We eyed each other with plenty of space between us
now. “I’m sorry I freaked out,” I said at last. “It was unacceptable to swing
at you.”
He nodded. “I apologize, too. I hope I wasn’t too
rough.”
Rough took the same journey
through my body as his earlier question, but I smoothed my hair and lifted my
chin. “I’m fine.” He nodded again but didn’t speak, so I edged toward the exit.
“Well, um, have a good weekend, Mr. Addison.”
“Ms. Greene.”
Skye McDonald writes books that will make you laugh, cry, and swoon. She believes that falling in love with yourself is the real path to happily ever after.
Skye’s first novel, Not Suitable for Work, won the Linda Howard Award for Romance in 2019. Her co-authored Unlikely Pairings series (written with Sarah Smith) have been Amazon bestsellers and #1 New Releases. Skye writes about living life with your heart open in her “A Bit Much” Substack.
Born in Nashville, Tennessee, Skye spent years teaching English in Brooklyn, New York. Now, she lives in Montclair, New Jersey, where she writes and facilitates a women’s group. In her free time, she hikes with her dogs, runs Spartan races, travels, Scuba dives, and is learning to ski. Someday she’ll take a break and chill out, preferably on a beach. But not yet. There’s so much life to live first.
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