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From Jerk to Perk: A Reverse Harem Romance

From Jerk to Perk: A Reverse Harem Romance

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I have three weeks to convince a grumpy, brooding heartthrob to publish his secret romance novel.
Or I lose my job.


Synopsis

I have three weeks to convince a grumpy, brooding heartthrob to publish his secret romance novel.
Or I lose my job.
When I discover an anonymous manuscript sizzling with a romance so hot it keeps me up at night, I realize I've found the ticket to saving my janky career.
I just have to figure out who penned these smutty scenes.
I imagine a chiseled, enigmatic writer, just waiting for me to reveal his mad skills to romance fans everywhere.
And who do I end up finding?
The literary world's brooding heartthrob. Not to mention grump. And his partners in crime.
All dudes who couldnā€™t be bothered with a little romance publisher like me.
But I either publish this thingā€¦ or lose my job.
So I work it hard, and wouldnā€™t you know that with each sexy meeting, the steamy words get closer to jumping off the pageā€¦ and into my bedroom.

This slow-burn, enemies to lovers why choose romance features a plucky main character with multiple love interests. If you like to indulge your secret bad-girl side, this is the book for you.

This 3-book standalone collection can be read in any order:
From No to O
From Hate to Date
From Jerk to Perk

Chapter 1 Look Inside

Ten minutes laterā€¦
ā€œWhat the hell is this?ā€ā€©Iā€™m tempted to stand up and stretch to my full five-foot-nine-inch height so I can look down at my douchey and vertically-challenged boss Cameron. But I know better. Thereā€™s nothing a short man with a Napoleon complex hates more than a woman graced with the height he feels he was entitled to but cheated out of by Mother Nature. Particularly when heā€™s pulling rank.ā€©I nod at the paper heā€™s shaking in my face like itā€™s a piece of dirty toilet paper and try not to snicker at the disgust on his face. ā€œCam, thatā€™s the blurb you asked me for. You know, for our new book Love Among the Lemons.ā€ā€©Heā€™d strangle me if it wasnā€™t bad for his career in publishing. As well as against the law. Instead, he takes a slow, deep breath, a warning to let me know Iā€™m about to get my ass kicked. Not literally, but still. ā€œI know what this is supposed to be, Amalia. But how it got to be the biggest piece of crap out of all the crap Iā€™ve seen in my career has me a littleā€¦ confused.ā€ā€©Confused, my ass. ā€©I want to ask him if he understands the expression putting lipstick on a pig. Polishing a turd. Making a silk purse out of a sowā€™s ear.ā€©Or my personal favorite, spraying perfume on a skunk.ā€©I made that one up.ā€©But I keep my snark to myself. What would be the point, except to rile him up further?ā€©I nod like I sympathize with him, which I do not. ā€œNot sure what to tell you, Cam. The book is a stinker. Therefore, it follows, the book description will be a stinker too.ā€ā€©He turns red. Did I go too far? ā€©His hands clench in fists by his sides, the offending book blurb now a crumpled mess. Regardless, I take a step back in case he really loses his shit and takes a swing at me. ā€œI know itā€™s a bad book, Amalia. We all know itā€™s a bad book. Itā€™s your job to make it a not-so-bad book. Do you think you can do that? I know youā€™re new hereā€”ā€ā€©ā€œActually, Cam, I just passed my six-month anniversaryā€”ā€ā€©ā€œThat is still new,ā€ he shrills.ā€©Okay. Fine. Iā€™m not gonna argue, even though itā€™s the longest job Iā€™ve had, at least post-college. My years working as a cashier at Victoriaā€™s Secret donā€™t count as publishing industry experience. ā€©My job here at Empire Ink Press might be the longest-lasting one Iā€™ve had since college, but itā€™s not the first. Yup, I was at another publishing house, but that lasted only three weeks. I was fired for punching someone who grabbed my ass.ā€©That one didnā€™t have a romance division anyway, so fuck them.ā€©As my overachieving mother likes to say, New York publishing is a small world. Iā€™d better be careful about keeping this job, the one I have now, sheā€™s warned me. I can only get fired so many times before the word is out that Iā€™m trouble.ā€©Thatā€™s what she said ā€” trouble.ā€©I decide to back down. Cameron looks like heā€™s about to have a coronary anyway, and I donā€™t want to be responsible for killing the man. Although maybe that wouldnā€™t be such a bad thing.ā€©I throw him a bone. ā€œHow about I give this another pass, Cam? Maybe I can sex it up a bit?ā€ā€©His shoulders drop back down to their natural position and Iā€™m pretty sure Iā€™ve won this round. Or at least havenā€™t lost my job yet. ā€œYes, Amalia, thatā€™s exactly what I want you to do. And take ā€˜cheesinessā€™ out of the last sentence. Are you kidding me? You want to tell romance readers the book theyā€™re considering is ā€˜cheesy?ā€™ I thought you were the pro in this genre. That youā€™ve been reading romance day and night since you learned to read.ā€ā€©Okay, I might have oversold that a bit.ā€©ā€œI am a romance lover, Cam. Itā€™s true. I read them all the time.ā€ā€©That part is accurate, that I read them a lot these days, which is probably why I have no boyfriend. Romance novels have ruined my love life by raising my expectations. And the sexā€¦ well, I know Iā€™ll never have sex like they do in the books.ā€©Which is why I read them, I suppose.ā€©Note to self, get new batteries for my vibe on the way home tonight.ā€©Cameronā€™s fingers unclench and the red drains from his face, leaving him looking only slightly evil, like a mean Christmas elf. ā€œI want to remind you, Amalia, of what we discussed in Mondayā€™s meeting. Weā€™re all skating on thin ice here. The publishing house hasnā€™t had a hit in a while, and the romance division in particular is really hurting. Should layoffs ensue, itā€™s last in, first out.ā€ā€©Last in, first out. That means since Iā€™m the newest hire, Iā€™ll be the first to get canned. Lovely.ā€©I lower my voice and lean closer to him, which I hate to do because he wears Jo Malone, and that stuff is way too strong for my taste. ā€œDoes that mean I should be looking for a new job right now, Cam?ā€ā€©I donā€™t mean to tip him off, but if heā€™s being honest, I will be too.ā€©His eyes widen. ā€œNo! Donā€™t do anything yet. All Iā€™m saying is that we need to work doubly hard until the company gets out of this slump. You know, itā€™s not helping us that the romance genre is losing steam. Readers are leaving for other sorts of books, like mystery and crime.ā€ā€©Ugh. If Iā€™ve heard him say this once, Iā€™ve heard it a hundred times. ā€œCam, thatā€™s total BS. Romance readership is soaring like it always has. Our problem here at Empire is that we havenā€™t acquired any good titles in a while.ā€ā€©His lips pucker like an angry butthole. I hit a nerve. The man is so vain he canā€™t possibly accept that heā€™s the reason our romance division is suffering. Heā€™s got to convince himself itā€™s the readers. Or the position of the moon in the sky. Or global fucking warming.ā€©But I have proof to the contrary. And I wonā€™t back down on this. If thereā€™s one thing I know, itā€™s romance.ā€©He surprises me by raising his hands as if in surrender. ā€œFine. Fine, Amalia. Iā€™m not going to argue this with you again. What else are you working on? Do you have leads on any new books?ā€ā€©I was afraid he might ask this. But I raise my chin with all the confidence I can muster. ā€©ā€œUm, well. I do have a couple,ā€ I say. ā€©Please donā€™t ask. Please.ā€©But when his face brightens, I realize Iā€™m shit out of luck. ā€œTell me. Tell me the good news.ā€ā€©I look down at my desk, circling a coffee stain on the chipped Ikea laminate with my pinkie finger, and pretend to be thinking. ā€œWell, let me see,ā€ I say.ā€©I rifle through some papers on my desk and dig my notebook out of a pile. Without letting him see, I page through as though itā€™s full of very important notes. ā€œOh yes. Here we are,ā€ I say, looking at a doodle of myself hanging from a noose, the way I felt in our last team meeting.ā€©ā€œOkay, first one is Spin Class Sweetie. Andā€¦ we also have The Charmer of the Cheese Counter.ā€ā€©Three, two, oneā€¦ā€©The crazed expression he wore only five minutes before makes its way back to his face and once again, I inch away out of self-preservation.ā€©He taps a finger on my cubicle wall. ā€œI see. Amalia, I thought we were getting rid of the turds. I thought we were going to raise the bar. Acquire some good romance novels. You know, the kind people read? The kind that make money?ā€ā€©ā€œIā€™m still looking, Cam. I always am. Thereā€™s lots of good stuff out there, just waiting to be discovered. Donā€™t worry. I have all kinds of irons in the fire.ā€ā€©Big lie. Huge lie.ā€©He looks me up and down like heā€™s some sort of goddamn lie detector. ā€œOkay then. Back to work.ā€ā€©He turns on his heel and hustles for the elevator to get to his mani-pedi appointment on time, which he thinks no one knows about, but everyone does.

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