Taken By the Grumpy Boss

Taken By the Grumpy Boss An Age-Gap Surprise Pregnancy Romance Nicole Love Copyright Copyright 2023 by Nicole Love - All rights reserved. In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. Mailing List Sign up to Nicole Love’s mailing list New subscribers receive a full-length hot heartfelt enemies to lovers romance book Click this link to join: https://BookHip.com/BDNKLJR Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Epilogue Chapter One Aubree “I hate to have the camera too close to my face.” “You what?” I balk. I didn’t think this day could get any worse. But Creamypuff, as she said her name was, is currently proving that it very well can be. First, the professional model who had been contracted three months ago for this shoot, and who had been trained and ready to have this executed had sent an email last night backing out, hastily directing our complaints and requests for a refund of the first half of her contractual payment to her manager. The first thing I did as soon as I got the news was scout immediately for an available and ready-to-be-used model. My quest had been met with futile success. The models the company had used in the past were all booked and busy, but I had managed to snag an intermediate model who had mentioned when contacted that she was free for all of six hours. I informed her that the shoot would be wrapped up within three. She’d agreed, but right now, I am solely regretting that decision. First, the rail-thin model complained that the sunscreen caused her body to itch. And now, this. “Creamy, Honey,” I say as I make my way toward the now pouting model. “There’s no way we can have this shoot successfully if the camera isn’t brought as close to your face as possible.” “But I just stated that I hate it,” The fake blonde model says, her eyes now narrowing in a glare. I’ve dealt with spoilt bratty models for all my career; this will be a piece of cake. Wouldn’t it? “How about you just close your eyes for this one?” I declare a compromise. “It’s the same thing. I’ll still hear the shutter sound.” “Jesus Christ!” I mutter under my breath. Hadn’t she stated that she was an intermediate? Why was she sounding like she had never stood in front of a camera? “Isn’t that how all shoots go? You have the camera shoved in your face? Endure the sounds,” I lightly joke. The model sighs, her shoulders slumping. In her current posture, she looks less graceful and appears much younger than the 19 years she had stated. “I am just a commercial model,” Creamypuff confesses in a low tone of voice. “You’re what?” I ask. “Why didn’t you state this when you were contacted?” “I thought it’d be easy to pull this off.” I study her, noting the way her eyes flicker as if she’s having a hard time making eye contact. Suddenly, it dawns on me. Swallowing the dread that climbs up the back of my throat, I ask, “Have you ever done a professional shoot?” The younger woman shovels her feet in the heels she had appeared not to walk well in slightly. “I am a model, aren’t I?” “You haven’t answered my question,” I snap. My patience has run thin, and I am seconds away from ripping my hair out and then hers. Maybe she has begun to sense my anger because she meets my eyes for the first time in the last five minutes and shrugs. “I practice in front of my mirror.” “Oh, God!” “Hey!” She starts when I begin to turn away from her. “My Mom said I was born to walk the runway.” “Get your things ready, or you’ll be walking your way home.” My assistant, Marissa, snorts. I shoot her a hard glare. “Email a modeling agency. And this time, get your hands on a professional model who isn’t going to skip school to waste our time,” I tell my assistant as we begin to make our way toward my car. While the teenage model scrambles to pack her things, Marissa tsked softly. “What is it?” I ask in anger. Her eyes widen. “Nothing.” “Out with it,” I say in my no-nonsense tone of voice. I can tell that she knows something I don’t. Marissa always does. “I just overheard one of the photographers mention that the old model quit because of Mr. Stark. Well, they’d both erm, you know.” I shut my eyes in frustration. I should have known. When the leggy teenager gets into the car, I begin to reverse out of the grassy area. First, I’m going to drop the model off, and then, I’m going to go back to Moonbeam to have a word with my boss, Nicholas Stark. “I’m really sorry about this,” Creamypuff mutters, looking miserable as I drive her back. You should. But then, I sigh. “It’s alright. This technically isn’t your fault.” My jaw tightens as I think of Nicholas Stark. I am literally vibrating with things to say to him. That arrogant piece of... “You can drop me right at that bend,” Creamypuff interrupts my rather colorful thoughts. I glance at where she’s pointing. It looks a little run down. “Are you sure?” I throw a glance at her. She looks very uncomfortable. “Uh-huh. My Mom says I should wait in a neutral area, so I don’t risk getting