Down With Cupid: Down With Cupid, #2

By Melissa Blue

Sebastian Clark and Nicole Harrison hadn't shared details—no last names or what they did for a living during a weekend tryst. Unfortunately, one detail was tantamount—Sebastian Clark is a publicist and now he’s gunning for her job.

They’ll have to work side by side and somehow ignore what feels like unfinished business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Blue
• Release date: Sep 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386677116

Melissa Blue

Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. She penned that first contemporary romance, upgraded to a computer and hasn’t looked back since. Outside of writing, Blue works as a mail clerk for the federal government, has a paralegal certificate (that she has more use for as a dust pan) and is a mother of two rambunctious children. She lives in California where the wine is good and, despite popular belief, is not always sunny.

Book preview

Down With Cupid

Down With Cupid

Down With Cupid Series

Melissa Blue

Confessions of a Romance Author

Contents

Down With Cupid

AT A GLANCE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About the Author

Down With Cupid

Book 2

MELISSA BLUE

AT A GLANCE

WEBSITE|FACEBOOK|NEWSLETTER

Other Titles by Melissa Blue

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DOWN WITH CUPID

Weekend Lover

Down With Cupid

Betting It All

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UNDER THE KILT SERIES

Under His Kilt

Her Insatiable Scot

Kilted For Pleasure

Kilt Tease

Scot Appeal

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#DIRTYSEXYGEEKS SERIES

To One Hundred

Down To Ash

Bluest of Blue

Three Little Words

1

Nicole Harrison’s heels clacked over the granite floor of the office building in a rapid staccato. The sound bounced off high vaulted ceilings lit with art deco chandeliers .

The loud echo, unfortunately, didn’t drown out Anna’s voice coming from the earbud. Please don’t tell me you’re late. The usually husky timbre grew sharp. Anna was about to start ranting.

So, Nicole wouldn’t say she was late. In this case, late was a technical term. She’d taken a break to get a much-needed-afternoon-iced coffee. Keeping calm, she tapped a thumb against the phone’s screen. Ten minutes to make it to the top floor. She downed more iced coffee—the reason she was ten minutes from getting an ass chewing.

Stark quiet filled the earbud. Silence was deadly, because that meant Anna was gearing up for a condescending rant. It would involve telling Nicole all the things she was doing wrong and implying that’s why she hadn’t made it to the next level of managing director. Reins Anna held like a woman in the 1950’s clutched her pearls when bad words flew out of a pretty girl’s mouth. Since Anna was also the founder of Limelight, an esteemed PR boutique, her word was law.

Nicole’s grasp tightened on the phone. Am I late? She pffted.

Then you’re there with him now? Because he’s already here.

Nicole choked. Tapped her phone again. Nine minutes. Stay calm. Don’t panic. The computer mogul paid the company a king’s ransom to make him look good on paper and TV, and despite this, the client never showed up for scheduled meetings. She usually had to hunt him down like a repo agent.

If he didn’t fork over a buttload of money, Anna would have dropped him long ago for tying up Nicole’s schedule. Reticent to do any kind of public events, she still managed to talk him into a bachelor auction, on Valentine’s Day. In a month. Handsome and charming, he’d be the perfect bachelor. Unfortunately, he hadn’t finalized any of the details, and it was nerve racking to say the least to build a buzz when the man hadn’t even confirmed he’d actually show up.

Knots in her stomach had become a constant companion, and they twisted in her gut now. After a quick, mournful glance at her feet, Nicole broke into a run. At the first sign of a trash can, she tossed the coffee.

Oh, that’s wonderful he’s actually here. I’m right down the hall. She rounded the corner to the bay of elevators and skidded to a halt. Taped to one of the closed doors was a Down for Maintenance sign. One elevator for eight busy floors. Crap on a cracker. She tapped her phone again. Seven minutes.

You sound winded. Where are you really?

She headed to the stair case, glanced up. If she made it in time, the moment she got home, Nicole would kiss her treadmill. I really should go now.

You really should let me tell you about your new co-publicist. The reason I called in the first place, but I got distracted by your lack of being where you’re supposed to be.

Not that I’m on one, but I’m allowed breaks.

Not when you have a client coming in.

True, but Nicole needed breaks and moments of solitude, with her phone off, for the past two months. Sacrilegious behavior and so unlike her. Something had changed within her and she didn’t like it one bit. She had this feeling before and had killed, burned and buried it. The troublesome emotion had Nicole off her game and not her usual go-getter-work-at-all-hours-of-the-day self. She’d been taking time to relax. A publicity manager one step away from being a managing director, at the top of her game, didn’t relax until she quit or died.

Do tell. She cleared the first flight with no problem. Who is it this time?

I didn’t hire him as a true co-publicist.

Good, because you know I don’t need help.

Of course you don’t, Anna said as though talking to a simpleton. You vet newbies for me.

Third floor and her calves started to scream. Tap. Five minutes. She grabbed the rail, hand slicked with sweat, and took a breath. "Giving them clients, I don’t mind. Training them, I do. Why me? It’s a a pain in the ass. Other publicists on your payroll have patience. Anyone else has more patience."

If they can survive your schedule, they can work on their own at a slower pace.

Fifth floor. Four minutes. She grunted in answer. There would be no kissing the treadmill anytime soon.

But this new guy might give you a run for the money. I stole him from a competitive firm.

"How? Giving me a run for the