A Taste of Romance
Contessa’s Secret
Empress LaBlaQue
When Zander McCord falls for his powerful boss, he’s severely out of his league. Does Zander really deserve the medicine he’s about to take? Enjoy Zander’s story as he searches for the key to a woman’s heart.
***
Have you ever met a woman so incredible that she makes you want to give up all the other women? Well, I met one that turned me, a thirty-one year-old man, into a thirteen year-old boy. She was sexy, intelligent, mysterious, and she also signed my paycheck.
It all started when I got a job writing a column for Embellish Magazine. Embellish is a high fashion magazine for the career women. They wanted someone to write an article called, What Men Really Want. It should have been an easy assignment. I’m a man of the world, so I definitely knew what women needed to know—a piece of cake assignment. Without hesitation, I sent my resume to the magazine. Contessa Barrett, the magazine’s owner, hired me without an interview.
My gorgeous picture must have influenced her the most. Her solid choice was no surprise to me. I’m not bragging, but my kissable skin, soft blue eyes and crooked smile, is enough to render any woman speechless. After I get their attention with my moist shapely lips, these tight abs and 6’2 body, usually brings them to their knees. And of course, that’s right where I want them.
Contessa had made a wise decision to hire me. Anyone could write the dumb column. It was a plus that the pay was outrageously great. I’d be surrounded by hot females all day long. That perk alone was better than group insurance.
However, I thought it was odd that I didn’t meet my boss until the first day on the job. Contessa Barrett. I didn’t know if she made the name, or if the name made her. At any rate, she was a hot piece to handle. She had all these sexy quirks that her staff just naturally understood. Like, she used three things to communicate, her eyes, her lips, and her body. Have you ever met anyone too hot for words? She’d use one word to say what’s on her mind. Now, that’s my kinda woman, few words, no questions, and no arguing.
For a woman’s magazine, the waiting area was nice and accommodating. You know, big manly furniture, a flat screen, and loads of sports magazines. So, I was set until someone caterwauled my name. There I sat, thumbing through Sports Illustrated when I heard this high pitched squeal, “Zander McCord!”
Man, the sound was vile enough to send pigs squealing for ear plugs. Although I didn’t know it at the time, it was the maddening voice of Contessa’s hound, Vicky. Vicky did all of Contessa’s talking. At first, I didn’t know what to expect, then I got a case of jitters when I really looked at her. This woman was truly sun deprived. When I gazed down at her bony legs, I saw shiny red, thigh length boots, a short plaid skirt, and a blowy yellow blouse that looked like something from a Soul Train rerun. She had a clipboard cradled in her arm with a small computer resting on top. Her short blond hair was sparse and spiked. Although her collar bones were protruding in a way that appeared somewhat abnormal, she had the torn-down body of a thirty-five year old mother of six. The pink, half rimmed glasses hanging from a chain, told me her mental age was about seventy-three, in dog years.
Later, I learned that Vicky was Contessa’s voice box and somebody I didn’t need to piss off. After looking down at my crotch, I realized that Richard had become frightened and gone into hiding. He was not the least bit interested in this goon, so Vicky was safe with me.
“Zander McCord,” she squealed again. The high pitch vibrated through my head with pin-point accuracy to my nervous system. As if smacked on the head, I closed my eyes tightly and gritted my teeth. There were several men waiting, and seated besides me, so I stuck two fingers in the air and shook them. Vicky waved me forward. “Contessa will see you now.”
I looked at the other guys who lifted their heads as I stood up. Their eyes seemed troubled, so I was pretty sure they were thinking, ‘that lucky smuck.’ Being the modest guy that I am, I returned their acknowledgements with a smirk. While marching down the corridor toward the large double doors, I was somehow reminded of the double gates to a stone medieval fortress.
As Vicky held the door open, I walked past her. Perhaps, it was the lighting, maybe it was the air freshener in the air duct, and possibly it was the fact that I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but when I walked into that room, all time ceased. The only sound I heard was the beating of my own heart. Strong contractions caused my shirt to elevate and fall at an alarming rate. When I gazed at my chest, embarrassment made my teeth clench into a fragile smile. What had caused all of these bodily changes anyway? My body felt as if I had taken a mega dose of steroids.
Then Richard tapped me on the thigh and pointed toward the chair behind the desk. There, mounted in a pristine oval face, was a large pair of exotic eyes. They were the riches shade of brown I’d ever seen. Thick black lashes would no doubt create a small breeze, if she ever blinked her eyes. Her sensuous mouth was the next thing that demanded my attention. Full luscious lips were painted the deepest shade of red I’d ever seen. Perky breasts heaved just beneath her chin. The scandalous view absolutely blew my mind. Short blue-black curls shimmered, kissing the sides of her face with feathery adornment. It was obvious that her creamy butterscotch skin was pampered, moist and it appeared supple to the touch.
She didn’t smell like cherries, strawberries or kiwi. No, she had the totally wicked scent of a freshly loved woman. I was glad my portfolio was hiding Richard, because he was nosy as hell. When I reached out to shake Contessa’s hand she pointed to the chair in front of her desk. At that point, I felt an attack on my ego. Did she want me to sit down? Turning my head to the side, I gawked at Vicky for clarification. She nodded. “Sit down.”
I placed my portfolio across my lap and Contessa reached for it. Now, it’s hard to give up your personal stuff to a woman you don’t know. Vicky walked over to Contessa and stood beside her. “She likes your writing,” she said nastily. “You will be responsible for writing the column, What Men Really Want. Your opinions should reflect the way men feel about women and your data will be compiled by computer consensus. You will start today.”
Contessa closed her eyes slowly, nodded, then swiveled her massive chair toward the window.
Feeling incomplete, I stood to my feet. “Is that all?” I asked, wryly.
Vicky walked over to the fortress gate, gave a mighty yank then pulled the doors wide open. “Welcome to Embellish Magazine,” she said with palm extended. “I’ll show you to your office.”
And that, was that. Vicky showed me to my office and the first person I met was Jebbie.
Jebbie was wearing white slacks and an orange Hawaiian shirt. Although hidden under makeup, his dense freckles were lightly visible, while his stylish shades found refuge in his reddish blonde hair. “Oh, my,” he gasped friskily, preening his hair. “Who is this gigantic hunk, Miss Vicky?”
Vicky hardly acknowledged his question. “Don’t pitch woo on the job, Jeebie.” She sneered, then pushed his mouth shut as we walked past.
Jeebie stuck out his tush and pouted. “Witch,” he whispered, in an audible voice.
I had growing concerns about Jeebie, and looking behind me, I saw him wink, and smooch his tinted lips. “Where’s his office?” I asked, doing a double take.
“Don’t worry about Jebbie. He’s spoken for. He’s only window shopping.”
“I’m not scared,” I admitted trailing Vicky into the medium sized office space.
After placing my portfolio on the modern desk, a young woman stuck her head into my office. Her skin was as smooth as milk, with a latte finish. Deeply slanted eyes held the sassy appearance of a little girl’s high fashion doll.
“Hi, I’m Tasha, the Editor of Embellish. I’m single, have my own apartment, money in the bank and a large trust fund.”
Vicky placed her palm directly in Tasha’s face. “Not hired for your entertainment either.”
“Oh,” she beamed, tossing her long dreads behind her back. “He’s going to write the new column. . . . think you can handle it?” she asked, addressing my turned back. “Contessa is picky, you know.”
Vicky pulled out a padded swivel chair. “Don’t plant doubt in his head, Tasha.”
Tasha shifted her shoulders to one side and pursed her lips. “Come on, Vicky. You know Contessa is crazy. We all know it,” she pleaded innocently. “She doesn’t talk. Plus, she only wears black suits with silver stilettos.” She tugged at her short flimsy skirt and fixed her waistband. “No one knows anything about her.”
Vicky’s eyes narrowed, she lowered her glasses and shot Tasha a look. “And that makes her crazy?”
Richard was listening carefully. He wanted to learn everything he could about Contessa. There was no mistake; he wanted to join forces with her tawdry smile.
***
As luck would have it, I didn’t see Contessa anymore during the first week. I didn’t see her come to work and I didn’t see her leave. Meanwhile, I listened to the office gossip. Jeebie said that Contessa had been seen with a mysterious guy. According to Jeebie he was simply delicious, whatever that meant.
Upon hearing this information, I knew that Mr. Richard had stiff competition. Although, I never saw Contessa, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Finally, the day arrived when Contessa had to approve my column, and confidence oozed from my pores. I sat in my chair, placed my hands behind my head, inflated my chest, then rocked backwards. Beyond a doubt, I had done my homework. Contessa was going to love this column and I knew it. After emailing the article to Contessa, I started to finalize all the little details. Shortly afterwards, Contessa emailed the article back and in big red letters she had typed. REJECTED! What! Rejected! I was mortified. She rejected my best work without even telling me what I did wrong. Man, I was really pissed off. Even though, I knew all communications went through icky Vicky, I was mad enough to break all barriers, just to see Contessa for myself. And that is exactly what I did.
As I walked up to the fortress gate, Contessa’s secretary tried to stop me, but I wasn’t having it. It was time this female found out who she was jerking around. I was about ready to quit anyways. Fortunately, when I opened the door, Contessa was calmly looking over a layout. There she sat, wearing her signature black power suit and silver stilettos. Immediately, her smoldering brown eyes told me I had made a horrific mistake.
Albeit, she pointed toward a chair and like a puppet on a string, I sat down. Her red lips parted slowly as my eyes zeroed in on their suppleness. “Speak,” she said softly, as if I were a dog.
Then, like an idiot, I opened my mouth and spoke. “Ah, ah, I was just wondering why you rejected the piece I wrote for the column.”
As if she hadn’t heard me, Contessa remained silent. An eerie feeling crept over my body while her exotic eyes climbed my robust frame. Someone must have thumped Richard on the head. He woke up from his brief nap ready for action. “Trash,” she finally said, lowering her eyes toward the layout.
Did she say Trash? The heat was on, and feeling my temples throbbing, I wriggled toward the edge of the seat. “Are you trying to say my work is not good enough for you?” Upon hearing my words, Contessa’s brow arched, then she lifted her dark eyes from her work. Although she sat staring, those large expressive eyes spoke loudly. Squirming in my seat I admitted, “So, you want me to do a rewrite?” Contessa said nothing, her stare was intense.
“Okay, I’ll try it again, but dang you sure are hard on a guy.” I stood up, scratched my head and smirked. “But then. You are the Boss—Lady.”
***
With my daring display of masculinity, I knew I was growing fur on my peaches. Now, I felt thirteen and a half. Contessa had a way of breaking down a man without saying one word.
However, when I walked outside her door I was disgruntled and fuming. How could I succumb to her without a freakin’ fight? Jeebie was beside himself with concern. He ran up to me wanting to know all the juicy details. “. . . .trying to tell me my article isn’t good enough.”
Jeebie grabbed me around my upper arm and I tightened my muscle under his grip. “You mean she actually talked to you?”
My eyes met the floor and I cowered. “Well, not really.”
“See-see!” Jeebie strained gleefully. “We told you she was crazy.”
Jeebie had my wounded attentions. “Does she treat everyone like this?”
After placing his hands on his hips he smarted, “In the few words of our fearless leader, let me answer that with one word. Yes!”
I dusted my ego and went back in my office. How could I let a female get next to me? Was I sick? Was I losing my mojo? Not even the sexiest woman could make a dent in this armor. However, I changed the format and did a rewrite. This time I left out the corny jokes and stated just the facts. When I emailed my column back to Contessa, she gave me approval to publish. After celebrating my small victor I vowed to bring Contess to her knees. That's right where I want her.
Empress LaBlaQue
When Zander McCord falls for his powerful boss, he’s severely out of his league. Does Zander really deserve the medicine he’s about to take? Enjoy Zander’s story as he searches for the key to a woman’s heart.
***
Have you ever met a woman so incredible that she makes you want to give up all the other women? Well, I met one that turned me, a thirty-one year-old man, into a thirteen year-old boy. She was sexy, intelligent, mysterious, and she also signed my paycheck.
It all started when I got a job writing a column for Embellish Magazine. Embellish is a high fashion magazine for the career women. They wanted someone to write an article called, What Men Really Want. It should have been an easy assignment. I’m a man of the world, so I definitely knew what women needed to know—a piece of cake assignment. Without hesitation, I sent my resume to the magazine. Contessa Barrett, the magazine’s owner, hired me without an interview.
My gorgeous picture must have influenced her the most. Her solid choice was no surprise to me. I’m not bragging, but my kissable skin, soft blue eyes and crooked smile, is enough to render any woman speechless. After I get their attention with my moist shapely lips, these tight abs and 6’2 body, usually brings them to their knees. And of course, that’s right where I want them.
Contessa had made a wise decision to hire me. Anyone could write the dumb column. It was a plus that the pay was outrageously great. I’d be surrounded by hot females all day long. That perk alone was better than group insurance.
However, I thought it was odd that I didn’t meet my boss until the first day on the job. Contessa Barrett. I didn’t know if she made the name, or if the name made her. At any rate, she was a hot piece to handle. She had all these sexy quirks that her staff just naturally understood. Like, she used three things to communicate, her eyes, her lips, and her body. Have you ever met anyone too hot for words? She’d use one word to say what’s on her mind. Now, that’s my kinda woman, few words, no questions, and no arguing.
For a woman’s magazine, the waiting area was nice and accommodating. You know, big manly furniture, a flat screen, and loads of sports magazines. So, I was set until someone caterwauled my name. There I sat, thumbing through Sports Illustrated when I heard this high pitched squeal, “Zander McCord!”
Man, the sound was vile enough to send pigs squealing for ear plugs. Although I didn’t know it at the time, it was the maddening voice of Contessa’s hound, Vicky. Vicky did all of Contessa’s talking. At first, I didn’t know what to expect, then I got a case of jitters when I really looked at her. This woman was truly sun deprived. When I gazed down at her bony legs, I saw shiny red, thigh length boots, a short plaid skirt, and a blowy yellow blouse that looked like something from a Soul Train rerun. She had a clipboard cradled in her arm with a small computer resting on top. Her short blond hair was sparse and spiked. Although her collar bones were protruding in a way that appeared somewhat abnormal, she had the torn-down body of a thirty-five year old mother of six. The pink, half rimmed glasses hanging from a chain, told me her mental age was about seventy-three, in dog years.
Later, I learned that Vicky was Contessa’s voice box and somebody I didn’t need to piss off. After looking down at my crotch, I realized that Richard had become frightened and gone into hiding. He was not the least bit interested in this goon, so Vicky was safe with me.
“Zander McCord,” she squealed again. The high pitch vibrated through my head with pin-point accuracy to my nervous system. As if smacked on the head, I closed my eyes tightly and gritted my teeth. There were several men waiting, and seated besides me, so I stuck two fingers in the air and shook them. Vicky waved me forward. “Contessa will see you now.”
I looked at the other guys who lifted their heads as I stood up. Their eyes seemed troubled, so I was pretty sure they were thinking, ‘that lucky smuck.’ Being the modest guy that I am, I returned their acknowledgements with a smirk. While marching down the corridor toward the large double doors, I was somehow reminded of the double gates to a stone medieval fortress.
As Vicky held the door open, I walked past her. Perhaps, it was the lighting, maybe it was the air freshener in the air duct, and possibly it was the fact that I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but when I walked into that room, all time ceased. The only sound I heard was the beating of my own heart. Strong contractions caused my shirt to elevate and fall at an alarming rate. When I gazed at my chest, embarrassment made my teeth clench into a fragile smile. What had caused all of these bodily changes anyway? My body felt as if I had taken a mega dose of steroids.
Then Richard tapped me on the thigh and pointed toward the chair behind the desk. There, mounted in a pristine oval face, was a large pair of exotic eyes. They were the riches shade of brown I’d ever seen. Thick black lashes would no doubt create a small breeze, if she ever blinked her eyes. Her sensuous mouth was the next thing that demanded my attention. Full luscious lips were painted the deepest shade of red I’d ever seen. Perky breasts heaved just beneath her chin. The scandalous view absolutely blew my mind. Short blue-black curls shimmered, kissing the sides of her face with feathery adornment. It was obvious that her creamy butterscotch skin was pampered, moist and it appeared supple to the touch.
She didn’t smell like cherries, strawberries or kiwi. No, she had the totally wicked scent of a freshly loved woman. I was glad my portfolio was hiding Richard, because he was nosy as hell. When I reached out to shake Contessa’s hand she pointed to the chair in front of her desk. At that point, I felt an attack on my ego. Did she want me to sit down? Turning my head to the side, I gawked at Vicky for clarification. She nodded. “Sit down.”
I placed my portfolio across my lap and Contessa reached for it. Now, it’s hard to give up your personal stuff to a woman you don’t know. Vicky walked over to Contessa and stood beside her. “She likes your writing,” she said nastily. “You will be responsible for writing the column, What Men Really Want. Your opinions should reflect the way men feel about women and your data will be compiled by computer consensus. You will start today.”
Contessa closed her eyes slowly, nodded, then swiveled her massive chair toward the window.
Feeling incomplete, I stood to my feet. “Is that all?” I asked, wryly.
Vicky walked over to the fortress gate, gave a mighty yank then pulled the doors wide open. “Welcome to Embellish Magazine,” she said with palm extended. “I’ll show you to your office.”
And that, was that. Vicky showed me to my office and the first person I met was Jebbie.
Jebbie was wearing white slacks and an orange Hawaiian shirt. Although hidden under makeup, his dense freckles were lightly visible, while his stylish shades found refuge in his reddish blonde hair. “Oh, my,” he gasped friskily, preening his hair. “Who is this gigantic hunk, Miss Vicky?”
Vicky hardly acknowledged his question. “Don’t pitch woo on the job, Jeebie.” She sneered, then pushed his mouth shut as we walked past.
Jeebie stuck out his tush and pouted. “Witch,” he whispered, in an audible voice.
I had growing concerns about Jeebie, and looking behind me, I saw him wink, and smooch his tinted lips. “Where’s his office?” I asked, doing a double take.
“Don’t worry about Jebbie. He’s spoken for. He’s only window shopping.”
“I’m not scared,” I admitted trailing Vicky into the medium sized office space.
After placing my portfolio on the modern desk, a young woman stuck her head into my office. Her skin was as smooth as milk, with a latte finish. Deeply slanted eyes held the sassy appearance of a little girl’s high fashion doll.
“Hi, I’m Tasha, the Editor of Embellish. I’m single, have my own apartment, money in the bank and a large trust fund.”
Vicky placed her palm directly in Tasha’s face. “Not hired for your entertainment either.”
“Oh,” she beamed, tossing her long dreads behind her back. “He’s going to write the new column. . . . think you can handle it?” she asked, addressing my turned back. “Contessa is picky, you know.”
Vicky pulled out a padded swivel chair. “Don’t plant doubt in his head, Tasha.”
Tasha shifted her shoulders to one side and pursed her lips. “Come on, Vicky. You know Contessa is crazy. We all know it,” she pleaded innocently. “She doesn’t talk. Plus, she only wears black suits with silver stilettos.” She tugged at her short flimsy skirt and fixed her waistband. “No one knows anything about her.”
Vicky’s eyes narrowed, she lowered her glasses and shot Tasha a look. “And that makes her crazy?”
Richard was listening carefully. He wanted to learn everything he could about Contessa. There was no mistake; he wanted to join forces with her tawdry smile.
***
As luck would have it, I didn’t see Contessa anymore during the first week. I didn’t see her come to work and I didn’t see her leave. Meanwhile, I listened to the office gossip. Jeebie said that Contessa had been seen with a mysterious guy. According to Jeebie he was simply delicious, whatever that meant.
Upon hearing this information, I knew that Mr. Richard had stiff competition. Although, I never saw Contessa, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Finally, the day arrived when Contessa had to approve my column, and confidence oozed from my pores. I sat in my chair, placed my hands behind my head, inflated my chest, then rocked backwards. Beyond a doubt, I had done my homework. Contessa was going to love this column and I knew it. After emailing the article to Contessa, I started to finalize all the little details. Shortly afterwards, Contessa emailed the article back and in big red letters she had typed. REJECTED! What! Rejected! I was mortified. She rejected my best work without even telling me what I did wrong. Man, I was really pissed off. Even though, I knew all communications went through icky Vicky, I was mad enough to break all barriers, just to see Contessa for myself. And that is exactly what I did.
As I walked up to the fortress gate, Contessa’s secretary tried to stop me, but I wasn’t having it. It was time this female found out who she was jerking around. I was about ready to quit anyways. Fortunately, when I opened the door, Contessa was calmly looking over a layout. There she sat, wearing her signature black power suit and silver stilettos. Immediately, her smoldering brown eyes told me I had made a horrific mistake.
Albeit, she pointed toward a chair and like a puppet on a string, I sat down. Her red lips parted slowly as my eyes zeroed in on their suppleness. “Speak,” she said softly, as if I were a dog.
Then, like an idiot, I opened my mouth and spoke. “Ah, ah, I was just wondering why you rejected the piece I wrote for the column.”
As if she hadn’t heard me, Contessa remained silent. An eerie feeling crept over my body while her exotic eyes climbed my robust frame. Someone must have thumped Richard on the head. He woke up from his brief nap ready for action. “Trash,” she finally said, lowering her eyes toward the layout.
Did she say Trash? The heat was on, and feeling my temples throbbing, I wriggled toward the edge of the seat. “Are you trying to say my work is not good enough for you?” Upon hearing my words, Contessa’s brow arched, then she lifted her dark eyes from her work. Although she sat staring, those large expressive eyes spoke loudly. Squirming in my seat I admitted, “So, you want me to do a rewrite?” Contessa said nothing, her stare was intense.
“Okay, I’ll try it again, but dang you sure are hard on a guy.” I stood up, scratched my head and smirked. “But then. You are the Boss—Lady.”
***
With my daring display of masculinity, I knew I was growing fur on my peaches. Now, I felt thirteen and a half. Contessa had a way of breaking down a man without saying one word.
However, when I walked outside her door I was disgruntled and fuming. How could I succumb to her without a freakin’ fight? Jeebie was beside himself with concern. He ran up to me wanting to know all the juicy details. “. . . .trying to tell me my article isn’t good enough.”
Jeebie grabbed me around my upper arm and I tightened my muscle under his grip. “You mean she actually talked to you?”
My eyes met the floor and I cowered. “Well, not really.”
“See-see!” Jeebie strained gleefully. “We told you she was crazy.”
Jeebie had my wounded attentions. “Does she treat everyone like this?”
After placing his hands on his hips he smarted, “In the few words of our fearless leader, let me answer that with one word. Yes!”
I dusted my ego and went back in my office. How could I let a female get next to me? Was I sick? Was I losing my mojo? Not even the sexiest woman could make a dent in this armor. However, I changed the format and did a rewrite. This time I left out the corny jokes and stated just the facts. When I emailed my column back to Contessa, she gave me approval to publish. After celebrating my small victor I vowed to bring Contess to her knees. That's right where I want her.
Author's Choice, by Empress LaBlaQue
Rae Winters, author of romance and erotica. Check out her chick-lit, Girlfriends Series, and her racy Romance Series, from Lady Leo Publishing. www.raewinters.com
Undeniable, by Rae Winters
Undeniable—The first in the Romance Series.
Reese Lakewood’s romantic dinner for two goes up in smoke when she discover her boyfriend, Vincent, in his office banging his best friend, Michael. Devastated, she falls into the arms of the security guard. In one night her life spins into a tail-spin, and out of control.
Obsession, by Rae Winters
Obsession—The second the Romance Series.
Identical twins, Anthony and Brandon White are used to sharing everything—clothes, foods, and women. But this time Anthony isn’t willing to share—especially when it comes to Simone Jeffries.
How far will Brandon go to have Simone?
Identical twins, Anthony and Brandon White are used to sharing everything—clothes, foods, and women. But this time Anthony isn’t willing to share—especially when it comes to Simone Jeffries.
How far will Brandon go to have Simone?