Mr. Grump

BILLIONAIRE BOSSHOLES Mr. Grump Mr. Jerk Mr. Cocky This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental. RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, FEBRUARY 2023 Copyright © 2023 Relay Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers. www.relaypub.com BLURB I have a confession. I hate bachelorette parties. A night of dick straws, awkward dancing and being told “it’ll be you soon, Kaitlyn!” Especially when it’s at a super swanky Miami club, exactly where I don’t belong. Couldn’t get any worse, right? Enter Mr. Tall, Dark and I-didn’t-know-they-made-people-this-gorgeous. Grump supreme. His scowl has a scowl. Especially after I knock a drink onto a VIP and myself. He must be the manager of the club because he has keys to the penthouse above it. A penthouse he offers to let me change clothes in. A penthouse we screw all over. Then, he gets a call and kicks me out. Told you it got worse. Ready for worser? First day at my new job as a nanny and Mr. Scowl is my boss. James Morris. Billionaire club owner, deal maker, and first grade bosshole—if the tabloids are to be believed. Also a single dad to an adorable daughter who needs my help. But there's no way I can take this job—every time I look at him, I’m back in that penthouse. And from the way he smiles when he looks at me, he’s thinking the same. Then he tells me why this has to work. Why he needs me. Why I can’t say no. New confession? I hate my boss. MAILING LIST Thank you for reading “Mr. Grump” (Billionaire Bossholes Book One) Read FIVE full-length romances by USA Today best-selling author Leslie North for FREE! Over 600+ pages of best-selling romance with hundreds of FIVE STAR REVIEWS! Sign-up to her mailing list and get your FREE books: www.leslienorthbooks.com/sign-up-for-free-books CONTENTS 1. James 2. Kaitlyn 3. Kaitlyn 4. James 5. Kaitlyn 6. James 7. Kaitlyn 8. James 9. Kaitlyn 10. Kaitlyn 11. Kaitlyn 12. Kaitlyn 13. James 14. James 15. James 16. James 17. Kaitlyn 18. James 19. Kaitlyn 20. Kaitlyn 21. James 22. Kaitlyn 23. Kaitlyn 24. James 25. Kaitlyn 26. James 27. Kaitlyn 28. James 29. Kaitlyn 30. James 31. Kaitlyn 32. James 33. Kaitlyn 34. James 35. Kaitlyn 36. Kaitlyn 37. James 38. James End of Mr. Grump Free book offer Thank you! Make an Author’s Day About Leslie Sneak Peek: CEO’s Pregnant Lover Also by Leslie 1 JAMES “Well, good evening, Mr. Morris.” The beautiful blonde in the zippered white catsuit behind the hostess stand looked up at me through her lashes, in a way that would almost seem flirtatious if it weren’t for my strict rules on not dating my employees. There are some boundaries that I won’t cross, no matter how tempted I might be. After all, the people I hired to work for me were all carefully curated for their skills and looks. Some might consider the value I place on appearance to be superficial—and more than a few have accused me of just wanting eye candy for myself—but that wasn’t the case. The eye candy was for my customers, not me. Looks sell, and I’m in business to make money. I mentally scrolled through the current employee list. Was she Brandy? Or Carly? I made a point of knowing each and every name of everyone who works for me, so what was it? Tiffany Warner. The name popped in my head right on cue. “Good evening, Miss Warner,” I answered, my tone cool and professional. Reacting to it, she immediately straightened her back. “How are tonight’s reservations? Are we busy?” “Yes sir, very.” Tiffany cleared her throat, all business. “We have several private parties, and all of the VIP booths are booked.” “Excellent. And is that DJ influencer here?” “Yes sir, MC Havoc is getting set up. It’s going to be an amazing night.” “As usual. Thank you, Miss Warner.” I gave her a curt nod and strolled into the club’s main room, which was only a quarter full. Not that I was worried. Miami nightlife didn’t get started until after eleven, so the few people milling around the cavernous room were in no way an indication of how the evening would end up. After more than ten years and just as many clubs, I could chart the ebb and flow of a typical night like a psychic. First, the tourists and middle-aged thrill seekers would show up, the ones who read about Bloom on some “best of Miami” website and thought that dropping in at nine for a single margarita counted as “experiencing the nightlife.” An hour or so later the rowdy groups would begin to trickle in, composed of bleary-eyed women endlessly toasting the bride-to-be and sweaty tech bros on the prowl. Finally, an hour or so after that, my bread and butter would show up. The beautiful people who don’t bother to check the price of champagne and tip the bottle service girls with hundred-dollar bills. On a good night, some of my servers might clear a grand or more in tips on top of the generous salary I pay them. Bloom existed for that crowd—catered to exactly what they wanted, which was why I was so damn particular about who works for me. Having spent enough time throwing money around in clubs like mine, I knew what people wanted when they were looking for a good