I’ve always found hotels fascinating. They are full of stories. Look at a regular three star hotel in a regular city: The clientele is as varied as the reasons for their stay. A businesswoman about to close a deal; an elderly couple visiting their grandchild, a cheating husband meeting his lover.
Working as a receptionist, I got glimpses of those stories. Once I witnessed my ex-boyfriend’s father sneak into a room with a woman who was definitely not his wife. Another time a desperate woman called me, demanding to know if her husband was sleeping alone. But, of course, hotels are not only places for deceit. I’ve also watched people fall in love, like my co-worker, who started dating one of our regular guests. That story served as an inspiration for My New Boss.
Twenty-five year old Selena Sanchez is down in the dumps: her mother is sick, the bills keep piling up, her boyfriend leaves her for another woman and she hates her new job in a small hotel.
Then she meets the guy from room twenty-three and suddenly life isn’t that bad.
The only problem is, she’s supposed to keep relationships with guests strictly professional…
***This is a sexy Hotel Romance with no cheating, no cliffhangers and a guaranteed HEA.***
Jenna van Berke loves Scandinavian mysteries, Nora Roberts, Margaret Atwood and everything in between.
Working in the hotel industry, Jenna has encountered innumerable honeymooners, cheating husbands and infatuated co-workers, providing her with ample inspiration for her contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels.
She moved to Finland several years ago with her family.
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Life sucks. “You suck,” I tell Jason’s picture on the screen.
“I hope you’re not talking about me.”
I jump so bad I almost fall off my chair.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of the reception desk fails to suppress his laughter.
Still recovering from my nearly heart attack, I struggle to take him in: youngish, slightly too small navy suit, brown hair, impish hazel eyes, dark brows, and an infectious laugh. So infectious I can’t help myself and start giggling. The man is laughing so hard now there’re tears in his eyes and my giggle, too, turns into a full blown, stomach cramping laughing fit. I can’t stop. I laugh at my stupid job and my problems, and Jason and Tiffany and… everything. And it feels awesome. It’s like I’m laughing away all that bitterness and anger and fear that’s been sitting at the back of my throat for months.
“Sorry,” I finally manage to squeeze in between giggles, “that was so unprofessional.” I clear my throat and wipe my eyes. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry, Ms...” he glances at my name tag, “...Santos, but I must have lost my key card. I’m Christopher McCoy, room twenty-three.”
“No problem, I’ll make you a new one, just a moment please.” Christopher McCoy – I remember the name, his was the very first reservation I typed in under Mr. Turner’s watchful gaze. He’s here on business for one night and he’s working for some sort of software company. “There you go,” I hand him the new card.
“Thank you. Also, I’d like to reciprocate the favor of being unprofessional: let me invite you for dinner tonight.”
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