Read Online Books/Novels:

Falling For Her Boss

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Flora Ferrari

Book Information:

She’s only twenty-one, young and innocent, quiet as a mouse, but that won’t stop me from wanting her. Hell, it kind of makes me want her more. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate at work when she’s walking around here in a tight skirt, looking at me with those wide green eyes?

Does she have any clue what she does to me? Am I even on her radar? Some days, it’s like she refuses to even look at me. Will I ever know what it’s like to take her in my arms, to show her off to the world, to call her mine?

Not if her brother – and my best friend – has anything to do with it.

He’s the kind of presence in a room that makes me terrified but leaves me wanting more. I’d be smart to keep my distance, but each day I spend in his office, I get a little closer to opening my mouth and saying what I really think.

His handsome face is too much to handle at work. I spend half my days avoiding his gaze. Whether I like it or not, he has me weak in the knees. Whether I like it or not, I want him to be mine. Whether I like it or not, I want him to be the one to take my innocence.

But my brother is his best and only friend – the one who got me this job. How can I pursue what I want when he’s keeping an eye on me?

*Falling For Her Boss is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. There is some ow drama.

Books by Author:

Flora Ferrari Books



Monday’s are always terrible. My team comes in half-asleep, still recovering from a weekend of partying hard and getting laid. I show up an hour early to prepare, but it still doesn’t make up for the fact that everyone is at their very worst this morning.

Today, we’re talking rebranding and new designs. When I inherited my parent’s cosmetic brand after they died in a car crash five years ago, the company began to consume my life, but what the hell do I know about makeup? My team is meant to be providing the expertise, in everything from product design to sample testing, but with Bret practically asleep in his coffee and Brandon pale as a ghost, I know that I’m not going to get anything useful out of my design team today.

“We need to focus, people. Our products aren’t exactly flying off the shelves,” I say sternly. “The packaging for the latest line of palettes is all wrong. Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”

Bret and Brandon try to pull themselves together to form a pitch for the new designs, but it’s so bad that I can barely listen to it. Especially after I notice Isabella quietly slip into the room with a tray of coffee for the other zombies sitting around the conference table.

While the boys stumble through their pitch, my eyes are on Isabella. Even after almost a year as my assistant, she still struggles with the coffee tray. It’s kind of cute. Everything she does is certifiably adorable. Not that I’ll ever be able to tell her that, but a guy can dream, right?

I watch her wobbling around the room in her heels. She’s tiny, much shorter than I am even in her stilettos. Coffee spills around the edges of the cups as she hands them out and she winces to herself, clearly praying no one has noticed. I smirk to myself before realizing that the boys have finished talking and are watching me expectantly. I clear my throat.

“Well, if there’s nothing worth pitching, I guess we can have another day or so to think things over,” I say tiredly. I know that I’ll be fighting a losing battle today if I try to inspire productivity. Besides, with Isabella’s hips swinging as she circles the table, I’m not exactly feeling productive either. I can’t help staring at her beautiful slim body, wondering what it would be like to press myself up against her and show her a good time. I don’t care if she’s terrible at doling out coffee – who gives a fuck? I’m much more interested in that ass of hers…

Does everyone have these kinds of thoughts about their young, hot assistant? Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid. But I need to push these thoughts aside. If her brother knew what I was thinking right now, I’d be dead meat.

“Um…look, let’s try and think of this from outside the box, okay? We’re not the target audience here. None of us wear makeup. Except maybe Bret on the weekends, but that’s none of our business…”

Some of the guys chuckle, attempting to look alive for my sake. Isabella glances over her shoulder at me, catching my eye for a moment before shying away, continuing her coffee round in meek silence. I’m hoping the others can’t tell that I’m getting a semi in my pants with her just being here. At least I know half of them are probably on the same page in that respect.

“Let’s try and think about what the buyer really wants. It’s not enough to design something and hope for the best. I know you’ve been looking at other products for inspiration, but we need to stand out from the crowd, or we’ll never get noticed.” I sigh. My head is back in the game for a moment. “My parents left me this company as their legacy, and I don’t want to let them down now. So please, everyone. Bring me something worthwhile tomorrow. We can’t go on like this.”

Bret and Brandon exchange a guilty look between them. I can see that they’re feeling bad about letting me down. But my focus isn’t on them. Across the room, someone else has been paying attention to my little speech…

Isabella stops in her tracks, placing the tray she’s been carrying on the table. Everyone looks up at her, wondering why she’s lingering around. Usually, she’s in and out like a shot. Perhaps the room full of men intimidates her. But now, she smooths down her blouse and stands up straight, drawing my eyes to her rounded breasts for a moment. She clears her throat.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

The room falls silent and I stare at Isabella in shock. She’s barely said two words to me in all the time she’s worked here, and now she’s addressing the entire room at once. She’s usually hidden away in her little office, avoiding me as much as possible. Probably on her brother’s orders. So what’s her deal now?