The Boss's Bedroom Agenda

Today, my sexy archaeologist and shoe crazy metal sculptor hit UK shelves.

If you like your heroes commanding and your heroines quirky, sassy and sweet, you'll love THE BOSS'S BEDROOM AGENDA.

Here's a snippet to whet your appetite:

“Don’t worry, Professor, I’ll look after you.”
She raised her cranberry martini in his direction, her hand jerking when she registered the shocked look on his face meant she’d let that little gem slip out.
“What did you just call me?”
“Professor,” she mumbled into her drink, using the glass to shield her burgeoning smile at the frown creasing his brow and making him look more professor-ish than ever.
“Why?”
She waved away his question, sloshing some of her drink onto his leg in the process.
“Oops, sorry.”
She grabbed at the napkin serving as a coaster on the table and dabbed at the spreading gin stain on his pants.
“Leave it, it’s fine,” he snapped, stilling her frantic hand while she tried not to yank hers out from under his.
If she thought he looked hot it had nothing on the effect he had on her body when he touched her.
It had taken all her willpower back in his office not to lean into him when he’d taken hold of her arms in a purely reflex gesture, the type of rescuing gesture a guy like him would make.
He was a gentleman, no two ways about it, so what was she doing here flirting with her boss?
This was madness. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t thought as usual, caught up in living for the moment, flying by the seat of her pants.
Story of her life, really.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He released her hand before taking a healthy slug of his boutique beer. “Why professor?”
“It’s a term of endearment.”
She raised her martini glass in his direction before draining the rest of her drink. Better to scull and appear a lush than accidentally upend it over his chest.
Though if she got a chance to dab at that broad expanse of muscle because of it…

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