Bossholes, p.1

#Bossholes, page 1

 

#Bossholes
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#Bossholes


  Copyright © 2025 by Melissa Ivers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For more information, send email to melissa.ivers.author@gmail.com.

  Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  #Bossholes

  Editor: Silla Webb

  Cover Design: Concepts by Canea

  Contents

  #Bossholes - The Playlist

  1. Kinsley

  2. Kinsley

  3. Maverick

  4. Kinsley

  5. Kinsley

  Chapter 6

  7. Kinsley

  8. Wyatt

  9. Kinsley

  10. Kinsley

  11. Brantley

  12. Kinsley

  13. Kinsley

  14. Wyatt

  15. Hot and Bothered Book Club

  16. Maverick

  17. Kinsley

  18. Brantley

  19. Kinsley

  20. Kinsley

  21. Hot and Bothered Book Club

  22. Kinsley

  23. Wyatt

  24. Kinsley

  25. Kinsley

  26. Maverick

  27. Kinsley

  28. Wyatt

  29. Kinsley

  30. Kinsley

  31. Brantley

  32. Kinsley

  33. Kinsley

  34. Maverick

  35. Kinsley

  36. Kinsley

  37. Wyatt

  38. Kinsley

  39. Brantley

  40. Kinsley

  41. Hot and Bothered Book Club

  42. Brantley

  43. Kinsley

  Chapter 44

  45. Kinsley

  46. Kinsley

  47. Maverick

  48. Maverick

  49. Brantley

  50. Kinsley

  51. Wyatt

  52. Kinsley

  53. Maverick

  54. Kinsley

  55. Wyatt

  56. Brantley

  57. Kinsley

  58. Kinsley

  59. Brantley

  60. Maverick

  61. Kinsley

  62. Hot and Bothered Book Club

  Epilogue

  Also by Melissa Ivers

  Also by Melissa Ivers

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  #Bossholes - The Playlist

  Treat You Better - Shawn Mendez

  Without Me - Halsey

  I’m Still Standing - Taron Egerton

  Overwhelmed - Ryan Mack

  Milkshake - Kelis

  We Don’t Have To Dance - Andy Black

  High Hopes - Panic! At The Disco

  Shivers - Ed Sheeran

  I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

  Feel This Moment - Pitbull, Christina Aguilera

  Glad You Came - The Wanted

  Strip That Down - Liam Payne, Quavo

  Body Like A back Road - Sam Hunt

  Fire Up The Night - New Medicine

  Best Day Of My Life - American Authors

  Heart Attack - Demi Lovato

  What Was I Thinkin’ - Dirks Bently

  What Makes You Beautiful - One Direction

  Happier - Marshmello, Bastille

  Beautiful Things - Benson Boone

  Kings & Queens - Ava Max

  Sucker - Jonas Brothers

  Why Worry - Set It Off

  Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift

  Another Life - Motionless In White

  Ribcage - Andy Black

  Me And My Broken Heart - Rixton

  Flowers - Miley Cyrus

  Your Name Forever - MGK

  In The End - Black Veil Brides

  Wake Me Up - Avicii

  Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons

  Here With Me - Marshmello, CHVRCHES

  Only Wanna Be With You - Hootie & The Blowfish

  There’s Nothing Holding Me Back - Shawn Mendez

  Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers, Coldplay

  Listen on Spotify

  For all the book girlies who wanted your boss to bend you over his desk. Spank you for that late report. And tell you how beautiful you are when you kneel down and suck his dick like the good little girl you are.

  ONE

  Kinsley

  “I’m sorry, but this isn’t working out.”

  My fingers twitch around my iced caramel macchiato and I lean forward, quickly glancing around the crowded coffee shop. There’s no way he’s breaking up with me, right? Not here. Not in the middle of our Monday morning date. Not right before we both go to work for the day. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “This isn’t working out. It’s not personal.” Brian shrugs, leaning back and crossing his legs before giving me a smile I want to slap straight off his face. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  “What’s you?” My whisper is harsh, and I grip the small table between us to keep myself from launching across the damn thing and strangling him. “Are you kidding me right now? Is this because I couldn’t come over last night?”

  He laughs, but it’s not the easy-going chuckle that I’m used to. This has an edge to it. A hardness I’ve never heard from him. “Or the night before or the night before that.”

  “You know⁠—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Your helpless little brother needs you at home, and you can’t be gone the whole night. Trust me, I’ve heard all the excuses. It was cute the first time, but got old real fucking fast.”

  My heart hammers in my chest, my teeth grinding so hard I’m surprised they haven’t turned to dust. I take a deep breath and then another, but it does nothing to settle the anger, the rage, simmering through my veins right now. My helpless little brother? He’s not helpless—he’s deaf and barely thirteen. There’s no way I could leave him home alone all night.

  What if there was a fire or some other emergency in the middle of the night? He couldn’t hear the alarms; he’d never know. If something happened to him because I wanted a night of fun, I’d never forgive myself. I get him up for school. I make sure he has breakfast.

  He doesn’t have anyone else. It’s him and me against the world.

  Brian knows all this.

  It was never a secret. I told him everything on our first date, and he said it was endearing. Fucking endearing. And now he wants to throw it in my face.

  Helpless.

  He has to be fucking kidding me. This is why his ass is breaking up with me in a public place. He doesn’t want a scene. He wants me to quietly accept this and disappear without a fight.

  Well, I’ve got news for him. If he wanted me to hold my fucking tongue, he never shouldn’t have put my brother into this conversation.

  “My brother is half your age, but already twice the man you’ll ever be. You’re⁠—”

  “He’s not the problem. You are.” Now it’s his turn to lean forward, a grin spreading across his face.

  I suck in a mouthful of air, the anger morphing into hurt, and the fight just drains out of me.

  We were only together for two months so it shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Brian was the first guy I’ve dated since my parents died and okay, if we’re being honest, the first real boyfriend I’ve had since middle school. I wasn’t sure if he was going to be the one, but I really cared about him, and I thought he cared about me.

  I liked him.

  I—

  “You’re nothing but a frigid bitch. A real ice queen. I’ve gotten more action from a coat rack than from you.” His lips twist into a sneer, and this Brian sitting across from me is a stranger. Gone is the Brian who’d hold my hand after a date, who’d rub his hands up and down my arms when I got cold, who’d make me laugh after a bad day. “I thought dating a virgin would be fun. You’re basically a wooden board with tits. At this point, I wouldn’t fuck you with someone else’s dick.”

  My stomach twists into tiny painful knots, and my grip tightens on the table. I’m completely shocked, frozen in place, despite my brain screaming at me to dump the rest of my coffee over his slicked back blond hair and get the fuck out of here. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t move.

  People around us are whispering, pointing our way, and my face heats.

  I’m mortified. Angry. Heartbroken. Rejected.

  This is why I don’t date, why I’m afraid to put myself out there. I never should have listened to my friends. I should have kept my nose in my books where true romance lives instead of trying to find my own happily ever after. It’s not for me, and maybe it never will be.

  My hands tremble, but I manage to pick up my coffee, give Brian a curt nod, and head for the door.

  He’s right. I’m a twenty-three year old virgin, and I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to men. It’s cut e in high school, not so much in the real world.

  As I walk out of the shop, I hold my head high and swallow down my emotions. They couldn’t give two shits about my sexual history at work. I have a great job, working around a great group of lawyers, and I’m going to turn this day around.

  I’m going to make this Monday my bitch, even if it kills me.

  TWO

  Kinsley

  “Poor girl. She’s only been on the top floor for three days, and it already looks like her soul has withered away and died.” Brianna’s eyes dart around the lunchroom as she leans toward me, hanging her index fingers from her top lip like they’re fangs. “I’m pretty sure the three of them are emotional vampires.”

  I barely suppress an eyeroll, but I do catch a glimpse of Margo, the Billing and Finance manager, as she walks by, nodding her head so hard she might give herself whiplash, and mouths, they really are.

  Brianna hisses like she’s fucking Dracula himself. Margo laughs and hisses back before they both descend into giggles.

  I’m wondering where the fuck I’m working, but a quick tally of all the custom-tailored power suits and gigantic egos confirms that I am indeed still at Ellis, Ellis, and Wallace. We’re not the largest family law firm in Nashville, but the percentage of guys with big dick energy exuding from their pores seems obscene.

  And I bet with most of these guys, the only thing that’s impressive is their own hubris. Certainly not their downstairs captain. They’re probably below average. Unimpressive. Too short for this ride.

  I raise a brow, my gaze trailing from Margo back to Brianna. “I don’t think that means what you think it does. And I feel like I should point out that vampires aren’t real.”

  Despite Margo’s agreement to the contrary.

  Brianna scoffs, unwrapping her sandwich with gusto, her pink pointed nails digging into what looks like a turkey sandwich as she takes a healthy bite. “Not literal vampires, Kins. Oh, but you’re right. They’re more like the Dementors in Harry Potter.”

  “Oh? They float in the air and wear billowy capes?”

  “Exactly.” She points a pickle spear at me. Rather aggressively, I might add, as I swipe some of its juice from my forehead. “And when they get close enough…” Brianna glances behind her before leaning my way again. “Bam. Your soul and entire personality will be gone. You’ll be a shell of your former self. A husk, if you will. If you don’t believe me, look at the new girl. She’s already crying into her bag of chips.”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter to myself with a laugh. Sure as shit, the blonde she pointed out is quietly crying at a table by herself, shoving handfuls of chips in her mouth, one right after the other. I don’t judge; I can’t. I got dumped over my morning coffee by a man who compared me to a wooden board. At least I’m holding myself together. Barely, but still. “How did I ever get so lucky to get you as a desk mate?”

  She shrugs, that pickle stabbing back at me. “You must have some good karma stashed somewhere. Seriously. The other open desk was with Ruth.”

  We both shiver, glancing quickly at the person in question sitting alone at a small square table in the corner.

  The woman is a dinosaur.

  I’m pretty sure she started working with lawyers back when they wore white powdered wigs and drafted contracts on parchment. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t completely terrible.

  “That woman wouldn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus and then run me over a few times for good measure.” I take out my pathetic salad, eyeballing the cookies at the front of the room. Their numbers are dwindling with every passing second, the chocolate chunks practically calling out to me.

  I got dumped today, and I need—no, I deserve—chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

  The guys in charge may have the personalities of a Dementor, but they sure aren’t stingy. The lunchroom is always stocked with snacks, drinks, and plenty of coffee. Normally, I’d stare at them longingly, but today I can’t resist.

  I do plenty of yoga. I can always squeeze in an extra session this weekend if things get out of hand.

  I’m across the room in seconds and since I’ve already decided on doing extra yoga, I snag two of the chocolate chunk cookies from the treat basket, but nearly drop them as a very masculine hand swoops in to grab the last one.

  “Shit. Sorry. You scared me.” I clutch the cookies to my chest, trying to stifle my rapidly beating heart, then turn to face my fellow snack connoisseur and⁠—

  Holy, fuck

  This guy is hot. Like stupidly gorgeous.

  I bet he delivers orgasms with a singular wink. Hell, I might be having one right now.

  There’s a good chance I’ve spontaneously ovulated. Could I be pregnant?

  This man could have any woman in this place. In fact, as he raises his brows at me, I’m ready to drop to my knees right next to his overpriced leather loafers.

  But I won’t. Nope. I can’t.

  Not that I have a boyfriend to worry about anymore, but there’s no way a guy as sexy as this would want some inexperienced twenty-three-year-old virgin. He’s so out of my league we may as well be on separate planets.

  This man exudes money and confidence. Power. Raw masculinity.

  He’s fucking perfect. Every inch of him. Everything from his expertly tousled dark blond hair, his intoxicating amber eyes, the angular lines of his jaw, and the muscular body I’m sure is underneath his Tom Ford, custom-tailored suit.

  And then there’s me—stiff as a board. Literally.

  A throat clears at some point during my very innocent perusal, and I’m embarrassed to say it took me several beats to realize it was him. You know, because I was blatantly eye fucking him like a shameless hussy. What is wrong with me?

  I shouldn’t be having any of these inappropriate thoughts running rampant in my brain. I got dumped this morning, for fuck’s sake. This guy, no matter how attractive he is, screams player. He’s dangerous. Charming. Not for me.

  “Sorry, these are my favorite. Didn’t mean to startle you, Miss…?” His voice—a voice that’s smooth like honey and already has my skin breaking out in goosebumps—trails off, and he tilts his head, assessing me.

  “Miss Rhodes, legal secretary. I’ve only been here a couple weeks.” I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and force my eyes to stay on his face.

  With a quick laugh, he adjusts his tie, a vibrant purple which nicely offsets his gray suit. “That explains why I haven’t caught you double fisting the chocolate chunks before.”

  I shrug, gesturing to his…everything. ”I doubt our paths will cross much. I’m up on the nineteenth floor with the junior associates and paralegals.”

  He smirks, his eyes gleaming. “And I don’t look like a junior associate?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You don’t go to the upper floors?”

  “What? Me? Never.” My voice comes out all high pitched, and I’m not sure what’s happening to me. And now I’m laughing, and it sounds like a cross between a hyena and a mongoose. What am I doing? “I like to keep my soul intact, thank you.” His eyes harden, and his entire body stiffens. Apparently, I’m digging myself a nice deep hole to sit in. “Shit. Sorry. Not that I’m implying you don’t have a soul. It’s just the senior partners on the twenty-first. I’ve heard they’re quite scary and possibly Dementors. Or emotional vampires. I guess that’s why they specialize in divorce law. I mean, not that it’s a bad thing. I’m sure you’re great at divorces. Again, I’m so sorry. Enjoy your cookie.”

  Abort! Abort!

  All the red lights are flashing in my head, and I do the only thing I can think of—I wave my cookies at him and dart back to my table.

  I don’t look back; I can’t. I’m pretty sure my face is a bright red, and I’ve succeeded in making an epic ass out of myself. I don’t think that could’ve gone worse. Maybe if I actually vomited on him instead of the word jumble that came out of my mouth…

  Yeah, that would be worse.

  With my face still flaming with mortification, I shove half a cookie in my mouth, and that’s when I notice Brianna and Margo, who are both now seated across from me, completely frozen and staring directly at me.

  “What? Do I have chocolate on my face?” I run the back of my hand across my mouth just in case. I don’t want to go back to work with a brown streak on my face. That would be terrible.

  Margo’s eyes are wide as she leans toward me, her voice a harsh whisper. “Are you okay?”

 

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