Hostile Takeover Read Online Olivia T. Turner

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Tags Authors: Olivia T. Turner Advertisement1

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Kyra My aunt and I started this beauty company in her kitchen. Now, it’s a multi-million dollar international company. I adore it. It’s my whole life. And some rich prick waltzes in, thinking he can buy it. Brandon Raven. He represents everything I hate. The corporate establishment. Trust fund babies. Greedy corporations buying up small ethical companies and bleeding them dry. I was expecting my aunt to put up a united front against him and everything he stands for. But my aunt wants out. She wants to retire. She wants to sell our baby to the highest bidder. And she’s the majority stakeholder, so I’m kind of screwed here. But I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. I’m not going to cave so easily. He can try his little hostile takeover. And we’ll see who wins… Brandon I walked into She’s The Sun corporate office, expecting to buy a cosmetics company, but I saw something better that I must have. The quirky, adorable, and feisty CEO. Kyra Black. I want her. I need her. But she seems to hate me with every fibre of her being. Well, I’m the boss now and she’s going to have to do whatever I say. Whatever. I. Say. One look at Kyra and this hot rich alpha in a suit will do anything to get her. Office meetings have never been more fun (or inappropriate) with Mr. Raven in charge. Insta-love at its finest in a SAFE read with no cheating and a super sweet HEA guaranteed. Enjoy!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Kyra

“Love these!” I say as I lean over Barb’s desk and scan the photos from yesterday’s photoshoot. “This girl is going to be perfect for our new foundation line. Call Janet and tell her we have our new model.”

“Really?” Barb asks with a big smile on her face.

“Oh yeah!” I say as I keep walking. “Love her! Great job, Barb!”

Barb is beaming as I continue through the office with my adrenaline pumping.

“How’s that mascara coming along?” I ask Daphne as I pass her desk.

“The midnight blue?” she says, popping up over her computer with her orange glasses askew. “I sent it to you last week.”

“Not that one,” I say as I keep going. “The top secret one.”

“I’ll have it to you by Friday!”

“How about Thursday?”

She grimaces.

“You owe me one!” I remind her.

“Okay,” she says. “Thursday it is, but we’re even!”

Yes!

“Deal!”

I love this place. Everything just… fits.

It’s like I was made to run this company. Like I was born to roam these halls.

I may not be able to cook a meal without forgetting at least two ingredients and adding one extra by mistake, and my dating life might be a tragic disaster of epic proportions, but I can run She’s The Sun like nobody’s business. In this one part of my life at least, I’m kicking ass.

“Kyra,” Aisha says when I arrive at her desk, which is located right outside my office. She’s not only my secretary, she’s my good friend too. “Linda is looking for you.”

“Is she in her office?” I ask as I grab the stack of mail on her desk and cycle through it. All of my mail goes through Aisha. I get to the Abigail’s Lingerie catalogue and look up at her with an eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you supposed to filter out the junk mail?”

She has a mischievous look on her face. “I thought it might help you spice things up.”

“Spicing things up,” I say with a sigh, “requires a piece of meat to put spice on. There’s nothing to spice up. My freezer is cold and empty.”

“Order something from that catalogue and you’ll have a buffet of meat to choose from,” Aisha says. “It will be pounding down your door.”

I roll my eyes as I quickly cycle through the pages. All of these models are stick thin with huge hair, long ass nails, and heels that are surely going to fuck up their spines. I don’t get it. This is not how real women look.

“Look at this,” I say as I turn the catalogue and show her a full page spread of a scantily-clad woman modeling a tiny piece of lingerie. “She looks like a mannequin in an X-rated store. Fake boobs, fake lips, fake hair, fake nails, and airbrushed to the max. It’s ridiculous. Who looks like this? For real? Who the hell wants to look like this?”

Aisha shrugs as she looks at the photo. “I bet she has a big strapping steak to spice up on Friday nights.”

“I hope so because she won’t be able to do anything herself,” I say. “How do you go grocery shopping in those heels? Or, give your dog a bath with those ridiculous nails? Or change a flat tire?”

“If you look like her,” Aisha says with a laugh, “you’re going to have a line-up of men on the side of the highway begging to change your tire.”


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