"Dirty Headlines is a fantastic enemies to lovers office romance with a perfect filthy asshole hero that I wish I'd written myself." - Laurelin Paige, New York Times bestselling author
 Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from bestselling author L.J. Shen is available NOW!
I could have impressed him, if not for last monthâs unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memoryânamely, his wallet.
Now heâs staring me down like Iâm the dirt under his Italian loafers, and Iâm supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith âJudeâ Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But itâs my heart at stake, and I fear Iâll be raising the white flag.
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 He had an American accent. Not French. American. Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I couldnât listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I had to deal with thatâhopefully for a very long time, because I desperately needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my gaze shot from CĂ©lianâs face to Grayson.
His forehead had crumpled into a frown. âYou look like youâre trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. Iâm hoping for you that itâs the latter and some kind of a weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?â
I nodded, scraping up a smile. âSorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a second.âLies. I was about to orgasm just remembering how good CĂ©lianhad felt parting my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on everyoneâs heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was something worse than hearing CĂ©lianspeak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. âAm I understood, Gregory?â he asked.
âCrystal clear, sir,â Grayson bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.
CĂ©lian jerked his chin toward me. âYour cover girl material is going downhill.â
He recognized me, and I knew it. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
âJude Humphry. Junior reporter. Itâs her first day,â Grayson highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized Iâd told CĂ©lianmy last name was Spears. Well, he certainly wasnât a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only encounterâa raging playboy.
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum.You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for ruining my panties in public, and nodded. âPleasure to meet you, sir.â I offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there were at least fifty people in the room. CĂ©lianâif that was even his nameâignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man beside him. âMathias, any other words of wisdom?â
Mathias? Wasnât that his father? Just how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
âI think you touched everything,â said the big bossâand he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed. Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I shared on my face.
CĂ©lian spun toward me, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. âAccounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture is excused from this meetingâthough not forgiven for their horrid blog. Miss Humphry?â He snapped his fingers impatiently.
He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing Iâd chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact.
âI have a bone to pick with you.â
Bone, bonerâsame difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would but I still have a life to live.
I followed CĂ©lian down the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked âOut!â to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of us.
Two feet of empty space between us.
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before sheâd settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends whoâd be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people'sâ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
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