Slick Senator by Mika Lane

Slick Senator

Slick Senator by Mika Lane (Hero Club)
English | 2020 | Romance | ePUB | 2.6 MB

When my college crush, Talbot Richardson—who didn’t even know I existed—was elected to the United States Senate, I bragged a little too loudly that I knew him.
Oops.
Did I really know the sexiest, slickest guy on campus?
Not a chance in hell.
Unless knowing someone is following them around campus to see which dorm they live in, and which class they have at eight a.m. on Wednesdays.
Oh, and I might have stalked him in the dining hall, too. Turned out he ate a lot of grilled cheese.
And thanks to my big mouth, the paper I work for now expects me to do a story on him because he’s not granting interviews. Not even to Anderson Cooper.
But surely he’ll meet me since we went to college together? Right?
Logical assumption. Except that he doesn’t know me from a hole in the wall.
But I wasn’t about to blow my chance with the paper. Writing obituaries for three years at one of the country’s top newspapers was not my idea of a fulfilling career, especially since the money I’d borrowed for my Ivy League education could buy a small country. I wanted more—I wanted to report on real news. I wanted to prove myself, and even work in the face of danger. A girl’s got to have dreams.
All I needed was a break.
No question, I was getting an interview with Talbot Richardson if it was the last thing I did. If I had to beg, borrow, steal, or… even take my panties off.

There was a time when I’d hoped she and her little guy Brendan would move down to D.C. with me. After her husband had passed away, it seemed like a new start was in order. But she stuck it out at home, facing her grief with a ballsiness I’d didn’t think I’d ever have. That’s when she met the second love of her life, Simon. A hot doctor with an even hotter British accent.

And they made the cutest fucking babies.

Talk about happy endings. Or would that be beginnings?

But I couldn’t go back to Rhode Island, no matter how shitty my day had been. That would be admitting failure. And I had too damn much pride for that.

I could see it now.

Cricket Curtain, local go-getter who’d financed a very expensive education at George Washington University, and who’d finagled her way into a sweet internship at the internationally renowned Washington Chronicle that eventually turned into a real job, has returned home to Rhode Island.

Yeah, no.

Not that there was anything wrong with our smallest state. I loved it. Visiting, that was. But I’d leveraged so much to get to D.C. where I’d hoped to become a star journalist. Going back was unthinkable.

And there were certain people who would get a lot of satisfaction from that. Especially my mother.

Seemed like there was always someone waiting to kick you when you’re down.

Thus, my stubborn streak.

And then, there were the puppies. Volunteering at DogHouse was the highlight of my week. Walking the little fur babies, playing with them—even scooping up their poop—I loved it all.

“… and Simon has been on call at the hospital all week, so we’ve not seen each other, and let me tell you, I am seriously missing him if you know what I mean…”

I hadn’t been listening to a word she was saying.

“You know, Brendan’s school trip is to D.C. this fall. How ‘bout if I come as a chaperone and stay a few days after?”

“On my god, yes! That would be so awesome. Do you think Simon will come, too?”

I had a not-so-secret crush on Simon. Everybody did. He was so funny and charming. And then there was his accent…

“Not sure yet if he’ll be part of the trip. But if he isn’t, we’ll still have a great time. Hey, and don’t forget that Block Island’s coming up. It will be so awesome, and Simon’s never been there.”

“Yeah…” I said wistfully.

Go into the dressing room and try these on right now. I mean it, Brendan,” she said in a stern mom-voice. Then she turned her attention back to me. “So, why’re you so down in the dumps? I can hear it in your voice.”

I peered over the wall of my cube to make sure no one was around, especially Wayne.

“Oh, you know. Still stuck doing obits. It’s been three years now.”

“C’mon, something will open up at some point,” she said, like she had a hundred times before.

Just like I told myself every morning when I woke up.

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