Wed
Sep 27 2017 12:13pm

Kira Archer Excerpt: 69 Million Things I Hate About You

Kira Archer

After personal assistant Kiersten Abbott wins sixty-nine million dollars in the lotto, she suddenly has more than enough money to quit her impossibly demanding job. But where’s the fun in that? She decides to stay and exact a little revenge on her insufferable ass of a boss.

Billionaire Cole Harrington quickly figures out something’s afoot with his usually agreeable personal assistant. When he finds out about the office pool betting on how long it’ll take him to fire her, he decides to spice things up and see how far he can push her until she quits.

The game is on, with everyone waiting to see who will crack first. But the bet sparks a new dynamic between them, and soon they realize they just might have crossed that fine line between hate and love.

Get a sneak peek at Kira Archer's 69 Million Things I Hate About You (available October 10, 2017) with an exclusive excerpt of a selected scene.

He finally spotted her dancing with her friends and elbowed Brooks. Brooks gave him that “you’re crazy” look and stood back to watch. Cole ignored him and went to fetch his wayward assistant. The gyrating crowd parted before him like an ice cutter slicing through a frozen sea. He stopped a few feet from Kiersten and her friends. She looked...nothing like herself. He nearly lifted a hand to make sure his jaw wasn’t hanging open. Her thick hair flowed over her shoulders in a honey-colored wave, and her tight little body was encased in a sparkly black dress that hugged every curve. Curves that were on incredible display as she moved to the beat of the music.

He knew the exact moment she spotted him. She froze on the dance floor, causing the friend she’d been dancing near to bump into her. Her friend glanced over, saw him as well, and leaned over to talk into Kiersten’s ear. A slow smile grew on Kiersten’s full, tempting lips. She kept her eyes locked with his as she made her way through the crowd to him. He stood there and watched her come to him. She didn’t stop until she was only a couple inches away, far closer than she’d normally stand, invading his personal space. He had to hold his breath to keep from closing his eyes and inhaling her scent like it was a fine wine.

“Mr. Harrington, didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” she said, her words nearly lost in the blaring music.

His forehead creased in a frown, and she leaned up on her tiptoes so he could hear her better. “Just couldn’t live without me, huh? How’d you find me?”

He cocked his head, taking in everything about her appearance and demeanor. She hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary, had she been speaking to anyone else. But her whole attitude seemed to have shifted. There was something more...open about her, more real. She spoke to him like he was a man, not her boss. It was tantalizing, probably inappropriate, and completely intoxicating.

“I tracked your company phone,” he said, leaning in to her so she could hear him. And so he could get closer to her. The temptation to reach out and wrap his hands around her luscious curves was almost overwhelming.

She looked back up at him, her eyes widening. “That’s some next-level, Christian Grey stalker shit right there.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Fan of Fifty Shades, are you?”

She gave him a slow, sensual grin that had fireworks going off in his veins. “The fact that you got the reference intrigues me.”

He shrugged. “Old Christian and I have quite a lot in common. Money. A helicopter.” He looked her up and down, heat shooting through his body at just the luscious sight of her. “A fondness for innocent assistants who have no business being anywhere near us.”

That smile of hers grew wider. “I’ve got a secret, sir.” She moved in closer to whisper in his ear. “Sometimes we aren’t as innocent as we look.”

She took his hand and crooked her finger at him with the other, pulling him with her onto the dance floor. “Come on, Mr. Grey. Dance with me.”

Oh, that was such a bad idea he wouldn’t even have time to name all the ways it could blow up in his face. Didn’t matter, because at the moment he really didn’t give a shit about anything but getting his grind on with whoever had body-snatched his assistant. Maybe it was the alcohol. He couldn’t recall ever having seen her drink before. Then again, he only saw her at work. Well, he’d seen her at practically every moment of the day. He spent more time with her than anyone else. But...it was all in a work context. He liked this one much, much better.

He briefly glanced at Brooks, who was staring at him with an almost cartoonish expression of pure shock. Yeah. He was about to do something out of the ordinary, and completely ill advised. And he had never felt more alive.

He wrapped a hand around Kiersten’s waist and drew her against him. She already swayed to the music, and his body followed her lead. Within a second and a half, he knew he’d made a huge mistake, but there was no turning back now, even if he wanted to.

She draped an arm around his neck and leaned back, the bottom half of her body pressed against him while the rest provided an enticing view. He pulled her back up and moved with her, their bodies grinding and swaying. The beat of the music pumped through him, amped him up even more. How the hell people danced like this without flat-out fucking on the dance floor he didn’t know. Well, looking around, it seemed several people were very nearly full-on screwing. Lucky bastards.

Kiersten spun around and pressed her back to him; her hair flipped to one side, leaving her neck exposed. He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her locked to him, and leaned down to breathe her in. The line of her shoulder into the graceful curve of her neck might be one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

Her arm came up to cradle his head, bringing his lips oh-so-close to the creamy expanse of her neck. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to lean down a fraction of an  inch more and taste her.
Maybe she sensed his struggle, because she stopped and slowly turned in his arms. She stared into his eyes for what felt like an eternity. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, not pushing him away, not pulling him closer. He had no idea what she wanted him to do. Kiss her? Release her? Maybe she didn’t know herself. He knew the feeling. Then her eyes widened. Not in lust, or surprise, or even anger. The only thing he saw reflected in those gorgeous brown depths was sheer panic.

He realized what was happening just about the same time she did and pulled her off the dance floor toward the nearest planter. They got there a fraction of a second late and the spectacular display of vomit coming out of her sprayed across his shirt before he could aim her into the plant. He scooped her hair out of the way and held her while she puked up everything she’d eaten since she was eight.

Well, not quite the way he’d seen the night ending.

Within moments, her friends had rallied around her. He passed her into their more capable hands, though he found he was reluctant to let her go. Even with the aroma of what had just happened stinging his nostrils and the near-certain destruction of his favorite shirt, his uppermost desire was to make sure she was all right. 

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Copyright © 2017 by Kira Archer.
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Kira Archer resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kiddos, and far too many animals in the house. She tends to laugh at inappropriate moments, break all the rules she gives her kids (but only when they aren't looking), and would rather be reading a book than doing almost anything else. She has odd, eclectic tastes in just about everything and often lets her imagination run away with her. She loves a vast variety of genres and writes in quite a few. If you love historical romances, check out her alter ego, Michelle McLean.

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