say you hate me Cover Reveal
Title: Say You Hate Me
Series: Love at Work #4
Author: Amanda Richardson
Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers Office Romance
Cover Design: E. James Designs
Release Date: May 11, 2021
My love life would be almost comical if it weren’t so depressing. Why can’t romance be like it is in the novels I love? I stupidly assume things can’t get any worse, but then I get fired from my job. Good one, universe. Now I have no choice but to work for my brother and his surly business partner, Anderson.
We can’t seem to get on the same page about anything. He’s judgmental and rude, and I can’t stand him. To make matters even more trying, he’s ridiculously hot.
I never agreed to bring on a new marketing manager, and certainly not her. My business partner leads with his heart, and when he hires his sister, her ability to crawl under my skin is insurmountable.
So, why does she make my heart race every time she’s close? When things escalate, I lose all semblance of control, which just makes me angrier. I can’t keep my hands off her, even though she makes me crazy.
Hatred can drive a person insane, but so can love.
The Love at Work Series consists of interconnected standalones, all having to do with falling in love at work. They can be read in ANY order!
I turn to walk in the opposite direction when my body slams into someone else.
“Oh, sorry,” I mutter, trying to make my way around them in the pitch dark.
“I’m not,” a familiar, deep voice says, his mouth close to my ear.
Goosebumps erupt along my skin, and my knees give way just as he pushes me against the wall. The uneven stone jabs into my back. I am pinned beneath him, and his body is warm—too warm. Burning. I feel a hand rove over the front of my robe.
“What—I’m—” I manage, stuttering. I can’t even speak as he places his mouth next to my ear. The feel of his hot breath on my neck, the way he subtly grinds against me… I can’t breathe without getting lungfuls of his scent. His hands move up, grazing the sides of my breasts.
“Shut up,” he murmurs, his voice so low that it’s barely detectable.
When he pushes against me, I get a feel for his size and heaviness. Everything inside of me, every forgotten part, blazes to life.
And then he kisses me—hard, agitated, rough. His lips grind against mine and he forces my mouth open with his tongue, and a thousand shivers claw down my spine as he pushes against me, biting my lip. I moan into his mouth, and it seems to spur him on, because he growls in response, taking my hands and shoving them above my head. I cry out at the roughness as my head falls back, the sound of our heavy breathing the only indication that anyone’s in here.
“I don’t like you,” he breathes, biting my lip again as he presses himself against me. “So please explain why I just spent the last hour looking for you.”
I gasp and pull his face to mine, and his tongue swirls against mine. I pull away.
“I don’t like you either,” I answer, my voice uneven. “So please explain why I just spent six hours disappointed that your smart ass wasn’t here.”
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Amanda Richardson writes from her chaotic dining room table in Los Angeles, often distracted by her husband and two adorable sons. When she's not writing contemporary and dark, twisted romance, she enjoys coffee (a little too much) and collecting house plants like they're going out of style.