(Extended Blurb Inside!)
Strap on your seatbelts as you ride along this riveting romance through the eyes of Ronnie and Harper, our two heroines that are determined to defy the odds thrown at them.
One possessive, bold pilot. One sweet, flirty heir...
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HARPER
It's Monday again, meaning a whole week has passed since the paparazzi debacle with my dad, and since then, I made a promise to myself that I would work twice as hard to get his trust in me back. But because I was already a hundred percent on top of my game when it came to my COO position, I had to resort to doing everyone else's job for them. Not only will this prove that I can handle the heavy workload of a CEO, but also show the other employees that I can be a great boss. And I mean what's better than your boss doing your job for you, amirite?
That is why I’ve been running around like a headless chicken for the past 5 days— except for Sunday, I already gave up my Saturday for this shit, and I need my 24 hour beauty rest. And let me tell you. It. Is. Exhausting.
I even wrestled with that stupid photocopy machine in the backroom for 20 minutes this morning because I overheard Trina from marketing in the break room, telling someone on the phone about how frustratingly shitty the machine was when she used it earlier. So I decided to check it out. I wish I didn't, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't be in a crappy mood because I scratched the side of my brand new Louboutins kicking the life out of the photocopier.
I don't know why they won't just buy a new, actually working one. If— nay— when I get promoted, I'm buying a new one. Ha! See? I'll be a great boss, not cheap-o like my dad.
Anyway, I was in my office, having just excused the last applicant for the recently opened PA job for the CEO, aka my father— his last one's on maternity leave— when a soft knock on my door broke my train of thought.
“Russel is ready for you, Harp,” Sarah said from outside my office, only her red head peeking inside.
“Umm... Russel? I thought that was the last of the applicants?” I pointed my thumb back towards nothing in particular, referring to the last man I interviewed.
“No, I mean Russel Miller. From HR? You promised to help with hiring the company's private pilots right?”
Shit. I totally forgot about that. Damn it, more interviews. I groaned, putting my head in my palms. “Right, send him up for me please, Sar.”
"Don't look so glum Harp, you’ll be meeting some hot pilots! I would come with you if I could.” Come with me where? They’re coming here, are they not?
“You don't know if they’re hot, they could be wrinkly old men in their mid-fifties,” I grumbled. Wrinkly, old, and men are three things I'm a hundred percent not interested in.
Sarah burst out in laughter, looking at me incredulously. “What the hell? Ok, first of all, we're hiring First Officers. There’s no way they’re over 35, I’m sure of it. Second," Sarah's eye darted from side to side as if she were going to tell me a very confidential top secret, and whispered, "All pilots are hot, no matter what age. It’s just a fact, and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the black magic they infuse in their uniforms.”
