What happens when the internet's favorite playboy falls in love?
I have the best job in the world. Date beautiful women and write about it.
But I want to take it to the next level: instead of writing about my experiences make it into an online reality show.
But here is the catch. My boss wants me to share the show with a woman co-host. And he wants that woman to be my best friend and co-worker, Margo.
I’ll date beautiful women and she’ll date hot men. Sounds fair enough.
So now I have to watch her fake date hot men. I used to love going home with a different woman every night, but suddenly this isn’t as fun. Seeing Margo with anyone else is driving me crazy.
And the more time I spend with her working on the show, the less I want to keep our relationship in the friends’ zone. And the harder it is to stop myself from imagining her bent over the copier.
Things are about to get unprofessional.
Unprofessional is a friends to lovers romance and one I overall really enjoyed. It was a fairly nice length (get your minds out of the gutters people) read, I don't want to say it was overly quick but it wasn't a really long one either. Seriously I am talking book length here people, sheesh. Friends to lovers romances are some of my favorite books because that chemistry is already there, just maybe not always at the same level as it is when they get together but simmering below the surface.
Unprofessional had me giggling, and even blushing at some times and trust me this book whore does not blush easy. Owen and Margo, these two are meant to be, and the assignment they are doing together just cements that fact. Sometimes even if you are unsure because you don't want to risk something as special as a friendship, you need to take that leap and trust that it is meant to be.
Unprofessional is a book that I enjoyed and one that I can easily recommend to be read.
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“You know, you’re really fucking hot,” she slurs, giggling. My cock stirs at the brush of her lips so close to my neck, her warm breath against my skin. I have to shake it off.
“And you’re really fucking drunk,” I reply with a forced laugh, as the key finally catches and I kick the door open.
“No…I mean it,” she says as I step into her apartment, still holding her in my arms. “You’re like…the most beautiful man.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” I say, as I open a few wrong doors (closet, bathroom) until I find her bedroom. I walk in and lay her down on the bed, then pull away, setting her bag on the night table. “You should probably just rest a bit, let it pass.” I unlace her boots and ease them off gently, setting them on the floor before straightening up to go. This feels familiar, although I haven’t carried a too-drunk Margo home from a party and put her to bed since our undergrad years. “You need anything? Water, or—”
“Yeah.” Margo smiles.
Instead of answering, she mischievously beckons me closer. I look at her, dress rolling up around her thighs, twisting her body up in the sheets, my imagination starting to whirl a little.
“Come here!” she yelps impatiently.
This could mean trouble—the problem is, I like trouble. I groan and go nearer to the bed.
“Closer,” she giggles, and I’m taken with the smile, the way she grinds into the bed…
Her hand pulls on my shirt, her smile goes and instead her mouth is open now, weakened like she’s preparing to kiss me. I could so easily fall into her here, so easily bring my mouth onto hers, put my own hands under her clothes. I can almost taste her, appetite stirring…
Except being a real man doesn’t just mean knowing when to make a move, it also means knowing when you shouldn’t.
“Nice try,” I say, pulling back.
Margo laughs and pounds her fists onto the bed with disappointment.
“But I need to see what’s under your shirt. You still got those Grand Canyon abs, I bet.”
“Ok. That’s my cue to go,” I say, half-out the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“No! Come on! Please! I remember the view was fucking amazing. Just a little peek. A tiny little peek for old time’s sake. Come on, Owen! Don’t be an asshole. You know you want to show it off.”
I look back at her, hand on the doorknob, and find myself laughing.
“Happy now?” I say, pulling up my shirt a little way.
Margo screams and falls back onto her pillows laughing.
“I knew it! Just as perfect as that night you got locked out of the girl’s dorm,” she says, as I close the door and leave.
When I get back to my car, I’m still smiling.
About the Author:
JD Hawkins writes erotic romance with modern-classic alpha males and strong, independant women. He currently lives with his wife in Los Angeles, CA. He loves to travel and has lived in many places, including New York City, India and Thailand. When he isn't writing, JD enjoys surfing, training in Mixed Martial Arts, reading and taking naps. He's always loved making up stories, especially ones inspired by real life.
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