Hotshot Boss by Lindsey Hart

Ever met the deliciously hot boss from Hell? No?
Well, meet Curtis James, jerk of the century born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a golden stick straight up his a$$.
And three words I would never have expected him to say, “I need your help.”
I am not going to lie, I nearly died of shock.
My boss with the perfect straight jawline probably inherited from the Gods, with a gift for rapping instructions faster than Eminem, is actually asking for my help…
To babysit…
In his freaking mansion…
It seems like he, unfortunately, needs to keep his sister’s two devil spawn alive for one weekend (his words, not mine).
So, put yourself in my shoes. Would you have refused when there was a huge bonus involved along with two cute little kids?
Plus, what could possibly happen in two days that has not happened in two years?
And to be honest, I hate my boss. So, this is going to be so easy peasy… NOT.
Because OMG, why the ever-living hell was Curtis James wearing only a swim trunk!?
Did he not know that’s a complete blasphemy with that gorgeous rock hard body of his?
And no, I don’t even care whether that’s appropriate wear to swim in. It totally should NOT be allowed for him.
And did he really have to flex his pecs like that? Whose eggs is he trying to ovulate?
And why is he looking at me the same way I look at chocolate.
Should I just give up and let him have a lick?
And it’s not like one lick is going to end up with two pink lines on the pregnancy stick. Right?