The Billionaire Boss Next Door, an all-new hilarious romantic standalone from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is LIVE!

 

 

The Billionaire Boss Next Door

by Max Monroe

 

Released – 16 May 2019

 

Available Now!

Amazon US  |  Amazon Worldwide
*FREE in Kindle Unlimited*

 

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Blurb

My new boss has it all. In spades.

Gorgeous green eyes? Check.
Hard-and-sexy body? Check.
Intelligence? Check.
Success? A big fat billionaire… Check.

Too bad I haven’t started out on the best foot.

My big mouth has already turned him against me, and tempting good looks and success aside, Trent Turner is no peach either. He’s stubborn and thick-headed, and son of a fruitcake, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about the hotel business.

With him running the development of the new Vanderturn New Orleans Hotel and me doing the design, our work relationship is far too intimate for two people who absolutely despise one another.

But that’s not all.

See, he isn’t just my billionaire boss from hell. He’s my new neighbor, too.

Same city.
Same building.
Same floor.

Trent Turner is my billionaire boss next door.

Holy moly, let’s hope my career—and hormones—can survive.

Disclaimer: If you generally love to suffer, hate fun of any kind, and are allergic to laughter, this book is not for you.

Find The Billionaire Boss Next Door on GOODREADS 

 

 

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Review

4 stars!



Greer Hudson owns her own design company based out of her hometown of New Orleans. She has put everything into it but it has become a sinking ship no matter how hard she works. Then she scores an interview to design a hotel in New Orleans with Turner Properties, and if she can snag this job, her business will finally be successful.

Greer flies to New York for the interview but before she even meets with the owner of Turner Properties, she ends up insulting a stranger at gym, unaware that it’s her future boss. Things get a bit hostile when they start to work together and even worse, they end up being neighbors. Now, Greer sees the enemy everywhere she turns but unfortunately she can’t stay away from him if she wants to do her job well. The fact that she is wildly attracted to him only frustrates her further and things get even crazier the more time they spend together.

I love a good enemies-to-lovers romance and The Billionaire Boss Next Door has it all. Sizzling sexual tension, smoldering heat, swoon worthy sweetness, and a whole lot of heart fill the pages, and of course it is another romantic comedy by the hilarious Max Monroe duo so this book is also so freaking funny. The banter is fantastic, the friendships are gold, and romance made me giddy while making me laugh-out-loud. It’s such a feel good, fun read, I couldn’t get enough of it.

Greer is an individual and I loved that she’s not afraid to be herself. She is snarky, loudmouthed, unfiltered, and a jokester at heart, and every funny analogy she spouts out had me giggling. And the awkwardness! OMG, she is awkward at times. She says all the wrong things at the wrong times but she can’t help herself, especially around Trent.

Trent Turner is this sexy alpha businessman who knows what he wants and works hard to get it. He is desperate to prove himself to his father and the hotel in New Orleans is his way to do just that. However, he never factored in the fact that he would be working with the woman who insulted him, his new enemy, and things don’t go the way he expects. He has never met someone quite like Greer and when he is around her he doesn’t act himself. He can’t control his thoughts when it comes to her and it’s driving him mad.

Greer and Trent start off on the wrong foot and from that moment it is hysterical. They didn’t know they are going to be working together when they met at the gym and each interaction after seems to escalate in both comedy and intensity.

I left my boss stranded on the sidewalk to wait for his own Uber, even though we were coming to the same place.
God, why can’t I stop doing things like this!
It’s like I’m trying to poke the billionaire beast.

Their back and forth only adds to the sexual tension that is already off the charts and I couldn’t wait for these two to combust because let’s be real, I knew they would. However, since Greer works for Trent she has made herself off limits thinking it’s best to keep things professional. Trent isn’t in agreement and it’s hilarious.

I don’t make a habit out of taking women on dates to lighting and fixture stores. The atmosphere isn’t exactly romantic, and they don’t let you drink wine while you shop.
But now that Greer has made it clear that dating is out of the picture, I’ve had to find ways to date her in secret.
And by “in secret,” I mean without her knowing.
I know; it’s complicated.

Greer and Trent are so good together. They are on fire but what’s even better is the friendship they form. They get each other’s humor and I enjoyed the entertainment they provided each other just as much as they did.

Though at times their journey is bumpy, I knew they would figure things out and I couldn’t be happier with the ending. The epilogue is perfect. Fun and sweet and so Greer and Trent, I turned the last page with the biggest smile on my face.

“I know it won’t always be easy…but it will always be right.”

I really enjoyed the secondary characters in this book. Greer and Trent’s friends are awesome and I am so excited that there will be more billionaire books because I want more of this group. And I’ll add what a treat it was to get a little bit more of Thatch (from Banking the Billionaire) and some other character POVs in this book. Too funny.

Overall, It’s a truly entertaining read and a great addition to Max Monroe’s billionaires!!

*ARC generously provided by the authors and Social Butterfly PR in exchange for an honest review* 

 

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Billionaire Collection

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Excerpt

It only takes five minutes inside the hotel gym to realize why my original plan was to eat a hamburger in bed.

I do not got this.

I’m not good at working out, I’ve never been good at working out, and I’ll never be good at working out.

I don’t know what to do with the equipment, and it doesn’t know what to do with me.

Clearly, it’s been designed for people with half a foot more height and fifty percent more muscle, and even on the lowest of settings, I fumble my way through biceps curls like an uncoordinated inchworm.

I can barely reach the handles, so I have to kind of stoop to get in position, but the newly formed curve of my spine makes me have to arch and wiggle to complete the curl. If it weren’t for my kick-ass Metallica T-shirt, I might start to worry that I look foolish.

The ten-pound weight clanks as I drop it the inch and a half I managed to lift it in the first place, and I stand up to find a different machine. Surely there’s something in here I can operate without having a special license.

I find some kind of seated thing with weights on one end and a padded face rest on the other. I sit, lay my face down, and attempt to slide my legs underneath the weighted bar. But, it’s completely awkward and uncomfortable, and I start questioning what in the fuck this thing is even supposed to do.

Just before I give up completely, a throat clears deeply beside me, and I look up to see a far too muscular man staring down at me in confusion. “Uh…wow…I didn’t realize you could use it that way…”

Huh?

I nearly ask him what he’s talking about, but his actions answer any and all questions I might have.

He sits down on the machine beside mine—an identical machine to mine—and it’s then I realize the face rest is not a face rest.

It’s a seat. For asses.

A seat for sweaty, workout asses.

Jesus Christ. I shudder and disentangle myself from the machine.

“You okay?” Arnold Schwarzenegger’s long-lost brother asks, but I just nod off his question and put some much-needed distance between us.

Also, I scrub my face with the hand towel I brought down from my room like it’s a fucking Brillo pad capable of removing the ball sweat that’s probably found itself a home in my pores.

Note to self: take one thousand scalding-hot showers tonight.

With a deep inhale, I try to regain some of the pride I lost back there by Mr. Muscles and peruse the room until I find a machine that’s labeled with instructional pictures to boot.

Hip. Abduction.

Do I need aliens to use this thing?

Against my better judgment, I study the pictures and peptalk myself into sitting down on the seat and swing my legs over to the inside of the knee pads.

No face-to-butt-sweat mistakes happening here, folks!

The weight is set on one hundred and fifty pounds from the person before me, and it makes me wonder if Thor is staying at this hideous hotel too.

I pull out the pin and put it on forty instead.

After a quick test push with my legs, the setting seems doable, so I take out my phone and start scrolling through it to set up some music to accompany me.

Yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I need. Some workout jams.

Of course, once I’m on it, I get distracted by Instagram, and five minutes go by before I realize I’m sitting on a machine, not a couch, and the purpose here is to do something other than lounge.

I glance up from my phone and scan the room, wondering slightly if anyone knows how long I’ve been sitting here. Mr. Muscles has moved on to a new machine, but a different guy across the room makes eye contact and smirks.

Busted.

Normal human decency dictates he should let me off the hook and go about his day, but this fit, Adonis-looking, sweat-covered, brown-haired, green-eyed—good God, he’s attractive—man apparently has no manners.

Shit.

His sleeveless white T-shirt clings to his tanned body as he strides my way, and his athletic shorts conform to a muscular set of thighs and ass.

I look everywhere but at him, fiddling with the machine as though I’m doing something productive, but he still doesn’t get the hint.

Raspy and firm, the clearing of his throat sounds right next to me.

I look up as innocently as I can manage and pull out my earbuds as though I had music playing.

“Um, hi,” I say with a cute little manufactured laugh. “I’ll be done in just a second.”

He laughs too, but his seems genuine and undeniably directed at me. “If you keep up your current pace, I think it’s going to be a little longer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he says good-naturedly—the prick. “You’re just pretending to work out.”

Oh no, he did not just say that….

“I’m not pretending to work out,” I deny. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

He nods knowingly.

“And setting up my music,” I continue.

He hums.

“I’m just about to catch my stride.”

“Sure you are.” He calls bullshit with his smug, green as fuck eyes, and for the briefest of moments, they glance down at my chest and my legs before meeting my gaze again. “But there are people who would like to really use it, so if you’re done…”

What. The. Fuck.

Who does this guy think he is?

“Are you always this rude?” I question, and his green eyes lighten a bit.

“All right, you’re right. I’m really not trying to be a dick,” he says and runs a hand through his hair.

Should it really take that much effort not to be a dick?

“Let’s start over…” He pauses and pushes a small smile to his full, kissable lips. “How are you enjoying the hotel?”

Start over? How about let’s never have started at all?

Still annoyed, I don’t censor my answer. “It’s…swell.”

He laughs at first, but when I raise an eyebrow in contention, he frowns. “You don’t like it?”

“Maybe ugly décor and a whole buttload of pretention are good for some people, but not for me.”

“Ugly décor? Really?”

How can he be shocked by this? Anyone with eyes could see the design flaws here.

“Are you kidding? I feel like I’m in my ninety-year-old grandmother’s living room, except it’s a waking nightmare and I’m about to be eaten alive by the curtains.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad. It’s timeless.”

Normally, I’m not such a snob about design, nor do I make a point to make other people feel bad for their likes and dislikes, but for some reason, this handsome prick and his dickish attitude just bring it out in me.

Before I know it, I’m channeling Regina George.

“Well…” I pause and scrunch up my nose dramatically. “I’m sorry to break the news to you, but the design of this place looks like it was done by a blind rat. Gilded sailboat pictures and tapestries with oxen on them aren’t timeless. They’re old.”

His eyebrows pinch together, highlighting the otherwise perfect features of his face. Goddamn this ugly hotel for housing such perfect-looking humans.

“What did you say your name was again?”

Shit. Emory will absolutely murder me if she finds out I got into some kind of confrontational tête-à-tête with a random Romeo in the hotel gym.

Let’s also not forget this hotel gym is located inside a hotel that is owned by the company you’re about to interview with…

Shit. Yeah. I’d better cut and run while I can.

“I didn’t.” I jump up from the machine with the exact agility I’ve lacked during the rest of my workout and offer a saccharine smile. “But, hey, good news. Machine’s all yours.”

“Aren’t you going to wipe it down?” he asks as I walk toward the door, and I can’t help but turn around for my parting shot.

“Why?” I smirk at the pouty-lipped asshole. “After all, I was just pretending to work out.”

Because you know what dicks can do?

They can go fuck themselves and wipe down their own workout equipment, tight asses and chiseled jaws be damned.

Suck on that, workout Romeo.

 

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About the Author

A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far. ​

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