"Dirty Headlines is a fantastic enemies to lovers
office romance with a perfect filthy asshole hero that I wish I'd written
myself." - Laurelin Paige, New York
Times bestselling author
Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy,
enemies-to-lovers romance from bestselling author L.J. Shen is available NOW!
Célian Laurent.
Manhattan royalty.
Notorious playboy.
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.
I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s
unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant
memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his
Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have
nothing to lose.
Brooklyn girl.
Infamously quirky.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint
in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I.
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the
white flag.
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Excerpt:
He had an American accent. Not
French. American. Smooth. Familiar.
Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I
couldn’t listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into
place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I
had to deal with that—hopefully for a very long time, because I desperately
needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my
gaze shot from Célian’s face to Grayson.
His forehead had crumpled into a
frown. “You look like you’re trying hard not to cry or having a really intense
orgasm. I’m hoping for you that it’s the latter and some kind of a
weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?”
I nodded, scraping up a smile.
“Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a
second.”Lies. I was about to orgasm
just remembering how good Célianhad felt parting
my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on
everyone’s heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was
something worse than hearing Célianspeak in his
perfect American English. And that was not
hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a
cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He
stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. “Am I
understood, Gregory?” he asked.
Gregory?
“Crystal clear, sir,” Grayson bowed,
his voice trembling at the edges.
Célian jerked his chin toward me.
“Your cover girl material is going downhill.”
God. Damn. Bastard.
He recognized me, and I knew it. His
eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes
mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way
it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on
that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
“Jude Humphry. Junior reporter. It’s
her first day,” Grayson highlighted, almost
pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically
protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized
I’d told Célianmy last name was Spears. Well, he
certainly wasn’t a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through
and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only
encounter—a raging playboy.
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so
deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his
cum.You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes
when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for
ruining my panties in public, and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I
offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there
were at least fifty people in the room. Célian—if that was even
his name—ignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man
beside him. “Mathias, any other words of wisdom?”
Mathias? Wasn’t that his father? Just
how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
“I think you touched everything,” said the big boss—and he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed.
Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I
shared on my face.
Célian spun toward me, uncuffing his
cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. “Accounting can go
back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture
is excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog.
Miss Humphry?” He snapped his fingers impatiently.
He was already waltzing down the
narrow hallway, knowing I’d chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking
pleasure in that fact.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
Bone, boner—same difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt
look. His eyes said, I would but I still
have a life to live.
I followed Célian down
the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng
of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked “Out!”
to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the
door, and it was just the two of us.
Two feet of empty space between us.
About LJ Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of
Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California
with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring
to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world,
and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to
report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people's’ birthdays and
never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending
time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking
Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes
Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
Connect with L.J. Shen:
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