RELEASE BLITZ WITH EXCERPT: Bridesmaid by Chance by Meghan Quinn
BRIDESMAID BY CHANCE, a steamy new grumpy/sunshine, marriage of convenience, forced proximity, workplace romantic comedy from New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author, Meghan Quinn, is out now!
Scroll down for an excerpt!
He needs her, and she needs his wedding ring…
Hudson Hopper is in some trouble. After doing his business partner, Jude, a favor by hiring his younger sister, Sloane, Hudson very quickly finds out that she is a massive distraction―especially since she’s now his assistant.
But when they are confronted with a situation where Sloane is told to fill in as a bridesmaid for one of Hudson’s business partners, she comes up with an equal trade. She’ll be a part of the regency wedding–corset and all–if Hudson marries her. Sloane knows the value of the trade, he needs her, and she needs his wedding ring to get her into a high-society club that will further her career.
It’s an instant no from Hudson at first, but when she convinces him that no one will find out, including her brother, and he will benefit from the marriage too . . . well, Hudson finds himself saying “I do.”
ORDER YOUR COPY NOW OR READ FOR FREE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED!
“…playful, passionate and packed with the kind of love that sneaks up when you least expect it.” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads
EXCERPT:
“Didn’t I fire you yesterday?”
“I believe that you did.” She nods as if it’s no big deal.
“Okay, so…care to tell me why you’re here, in my office, handing me a green drink with no sugar?”
“I chose not to take part in the firing.” “What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
And then to my surprise, she plops herself on top of my desk, crosses one leg over the other, and leans back on her hand, the pose incredibly too sexy, especially since the position makes the lapels of her suit jacket pop open, revealing that she’s not wearing a shirt under that blazer. Just a bra.
Christ.
“It means I chose not to be fired.”
“That’s not a thing,” I say.
“Oh, it is. You see, I’ve been taught to seize what I want, to take charge, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Therefore, I’ve decided that I’m not fired.”
“You can decide that all you want, but that’s not how things work. I’m the boss, you work for me; therefore, when I say you’re fired, you’re fired. There will be no point in coming into the office because I will not be paying you.”
“Says who?” she asks.
I point to my chest. “Says me.”
“And would you say that you’re the one that makes all the decisions?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s what the term boss entails. The decision-maker.”
“And your choice is to fire me?” What kind of fucking circus is this? Is this some sort of social media trend? Refusal to be fired? Am I actually old and I don’t realize it?
“Yes, my choice is to fire you; that’s why I did it yesterday: I fired you.”
“You did, but a part of me thinks that you might regret that decision.”
I stick my hands in my pockets and ask, “What makes you think that?”
“Because I have a proposal for you.” She hops off my desk and gestures toward my seating area.
“Please, join me.”
Skeptical but also intrigued by the fuckery, I follow her and take a seat on the couch as she does, only about a foot of space separating, close enough to catch the lavender scent that clings to her.
“What’s going on, Sloane? I have things to do.”
“I know; this won’t take too much of your time.” She places her hands on her lap and looks me in the eyes.
“I was thinking about yesterday and everything that happened. And know the right thing to do would be to come in here and tell you I didn’t mean any of the things that I said, but that would be a lie. I meant every single word.”
Every single word?
Because I remember specifically one thing in particular that she tried to deny saying, but I’m not going to bring that up, not when she’s sitting this close and smells this damn good.
“Okay,” I say.
“And an apology is not why I’m here. I’m here on business.”
“Sloane, I don’t think I can give you your job back.”
“Not looking to be your assistant,” she says, and then, to my surprise, she gets down on one knee in front of me, takes my hand in hers, and continues. “I’m looking to be your wife.”
My WHAT? “Hudson Mitchell Hopper, will you marry me?”
She smiles up at me. Blinks.
Fucking winks… She’s kidding right?
I look for something, anything, to tell me this is a joke. I glance around the room. Are there hidden cameras in here? Am I on a daytime talk show where someone is going to come out, have a gotcha moment, and say to the audience that I’ve been lusting after my too-young-for-me assistant?
I wait a few seconds, and when I realize none of that is happening, I clear my throat.
“Excuse me?”
“Look at you, in shock. How cute.” She pats my hand.
“Hudson, it’s a simple question. Will you marry me?”
“Uh…” I shake my hand out of hers and slide back on the couch, putting space between us. “Not to sound like an obtuse ass, but why the fuck would I marry you, Sloane?”
She rolls her eyes. “And here I thought you were a smart businessman.”
She gets off the ground and sits back on the couch. She straightens her clothes while I try to comprehend what the hell is happening this morning. This is why I need more coffee in the morning. Forget the green drink, I need a twenty-ounce cup of pure, unfiltered coffee, straight from the goddamn bean.
“I’ll lay it out for you: you need a wife, and I’m the one for the job.”
“I fail to see how I need a wife.”
“Are you really that dense?” she asks.
“Uh, are you really this delusional?” I counter. Another roll of the eyes.
“Jesus, Hudson. You need to impress Archie’s father-in-law, right?What’s one way to do that? Slip into the Mayfair Club. And what is one of the requirements to get into the club? You must be married.” She holds out her hand and points to her empty ring finger. “All you’ve
got to do is put a ring on it.”
Wow.
Okay.
She’s lost it.
I think the conversation I need to have with Jude is going to veer in a different direction that I’d thought. More like I think your sister might need some help .
“You know, not really in the market for a wife at the moment, but thanks for the offer. Now, I think it’s time that you leave.”
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She stands and starts heading toward the door. “By the way, your father called this morning. I took a message for you because I thought I might be helpful despite being fired. He said to tell you that he still plans on suing you, but he’s currently working on another investment, so he might be held up at the moment.”
And then she heads out of my office, leaving my skin prickling with irritation.
What the fuck just happened?
About Meghan Quinn:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
Connect with Meghan:
Text READ to 474747 and never miss a new release from Meghan!
