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Hating My New Husband
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Fake husband. Real a–hole.
I hate Davis so much I could puke.
Hating My New Husband is a fun and exciting hate-to-love romance. It has super steamy scenes and some bad language. It’s only recommended for readers 18+. If you like men that can’t get enough of their women, lots of dirty talk, and some really hot scenes, this book is for you!
Hating My New Husband is a safe standalone novella with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA. Enjoy!!
Note: All my books are standalones and can be read in any order!
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“You HAVE to go to this interview!”
That’s what Vicki said to me over coffee yesterday. I’ve been looking for a job for almost two months now, totally unsuccessfully, of course, when she drops this in my lap.
“It’s, like, the best opportunity,” she said. “I found it on Hacker News, so you know it’s legit.”
I frowned at her. “Hacker News?”
“Sure, it’s where all the cool people in tech hang out.”
I didn’t question her at the time. I really wish I had, but hindsight is amazing and all that.
It was the most bare bones job posting I’ve ever seen. She handed me a printed piece of paper with a basic description of the job, some requirements, and an address. Nothing else.
All I had to do was show up.
“It’ll be easy,” Vicki said. “You’ll love it.”
“What’s the company?”
“Who cares? It’s a job and it pays well. You should give it a shot.”
I hate to admit it, but that’s all the convincing I needed.
Now, as I walk up the stoop toward a weirdly abandoned-looking house, I wish I had done a little more digging.
I bite my lip and glance down at the ad, just to make sure the address is right. Sure enough, I’m at the correct place, but…
“This has to be a trap,” I mutter to myself.
I quickly take in the ad one more time, trying to decide what to do.
Up-and-coming tech firm seeks brilliant young minds.
Tired of impossible tech jobs? Tired of getting rejected?
We want you, the bright and downtrodden.
We are looking for junior programmers, consultants, developers, web designers, and general staff. Pay ranges from $40k/year with benefits to $120k/year with benefits, depending on position and experience.
Oh, and speaking of experience: little to no experience is preferred.
That’s right. Little to no experience is preferred.
Tired of entry-level jobs with required two years’ experience? Yeah, us, too.
Come to 252 West Arch and apply in person today!
That’s it, that’s the whole ad. It’s apparently a tech company that does… something… looking for people to do… everything.
I sigh. This is so stupid. It has to be a freaking scam. As soon as I walk in there, I bet they’re going to ask if I’m ready to climb the ranks of Scientology or something. But still, I’m desperate. I got my two-year degree in computer science in order to find a real job… but that hasn’t gone well.
I’m in debt from school and from years of struggling as an actress. I dropped out of college to move to LA and tried to make it happen… but now I’m twenty-eight with basically zero acting credits.
My parents cut me off. I was barely making ends meet as a barista. I had to make a choice.
Stay and struggle and probably have my whole life repossessed.
Or move home and get it together.
So here I am, back in Philadelphia, trying to get my life back on track.
And I feel just as desperate as I did out there.
I sigh and look at the door. There’s no sign, but there is a bell, an intercom, and a little camera in the corner.
Whatever. I need a job. I might as well find out if it’s a scam or not.
Who knows. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
I hit the bell and wait. At first, nothing happens, and I’m almost relieved.
But then a voice comes on through the intercom. It’s a young guy, surprisingly upbeat.
“Hey there! Who’s this?”
“Uh, hi, my name’s Carly Miller, I’m responding to an ad placed on, uh, Hacker News?”
Short silence. I glance at the camera, fidgeting a little, until the guy comes back. “Awesome! Wait right there, I’ll come get you.”
And more silence.
Who says “awesome” in a professional setting? But then again, this isn’t exactly a traditional office.
It looks more like a haunted house.
The neighborhood isn’t bad, though. It’s in east Philly, near the river, a bit north of Old City. There’s really not much around here except some businesses across the street, a few boring houses, and a hipster bar that looks like it serves beer in fake human skulls.
I definitely don’t want to drink beer from a skull, real or fake, so hopefully I won’t be involved with those weirdos.
After another minute of nervous waiting, the door slowly creaks open. Seriously, it creaks, like straight out of Scooby Doo. If it weren’t two in the afternoon, I might just turn and leave.
Instead of a creepy butler, a young guy in a polo shirt and skinny jeans pokes his head out. He’s wearing thick dark glasses, has tussled brown hair, and his smile seems incredibly earnest.
“Hi there,” he says. “Carly, right?”
“Yeah, nice to meet you.”
“I’m Jeremy. I’ll take you in now, he’s not busy. Follow me, please.”
I hesitate, but Jeremy seems harmless enough. Definitely not like a skull-drinker.
I step inside and he shuts the door behind me.
The house is surprisingly nice inside. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.