Wednesday, May 22, 2019

The Billionaire Boss Next Door by Max Monroe Blog Tour


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.

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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.




Reviews by the Wicked Reads Review Team

Shelby☆☆☆☆
The Billionaire Boss Next Door was a cute, enemies-to-lovers romance that has just a little humor and a lot of snarky, sarcastic goodness.

Greer finds herself in a tough spot, financially, and is interviewing for an amazing job that would save her from ruin. Greer's story starts right off with a touch of crazy and a lot of laughs. She's awkward and snarky, a little cynical, and a lot jaded. Did I mention that I really like her? Thankfully, she has a best friend who's able to ground her and offer emotional support.

Trent Turner is in the opposite situation. He's the heir to a hotel empire, built by his father. He just so happens to be the man who's trying to get out from under his father's oppressive shadow by successfully finishing the project assigned to him. Trent is a bit self-righteous and condescending, he's equally snarky with a touch of rude, but all of that changes as we get to know him.

To be completely honest, I enjoyed the buildup! I liked the seething annoyance Trent has for Greer, I felt like it wasn't totally over the top. I enjoyed the part both of their friends played throughout the story. I did feel the chemistry between Greer and Trent, as it built, and was beyond ready for it to blow! I didn't laugh out loud, but I did smile at some of the one-liners. I wasn't rushing to finish the story to find out what happened next, I finished this story in one sitting because I genuinely liked it.

Max Monroe is new to me, but I will definitely check into more of their writing!


Avid Reader☆☆☆☆
M/F Romance

Greer is a snarky, smart, witty woman who is also in severe financial straits with her company. When she has a chance of a lifetime to design a new hotel, she knows that she has to jump at it and do a fantastic job. Despite her best friend's interference in her life, Greer knows that Emory would do anything for her.

Trent is fighting his own destiny. He knows that he's destined to take over his dad's company, but also feels like nothing he ever does is worthy or good enough for his dad. He knows that unless he knocks this next project – a new hotel – out of the park, his dad is never going to let him run the company.

These two have a long, slow build that comes to a fantastic crescendo. I like that we got to see them at their best and worst. They both have a tinge of crazy in them and their craziness complements each other’s. They have great chemistry and their dance around their attraction is comical at times and steamy during others. You really got to see the characters grow into themselves and as a couple.

Their friends are hilarious in their own way and I can't wait to see where the next book will go.


Mary Jo☆☆☆☆
A quick review of The Billionaire Boss Next door.

It has all the elements an avid reader comes to expect in a Max & Monroe book

Thatcher Kelley? Check
Snarky female lead? Check
Rich, successful male lead? Check
Laugh out loud one-liners? Check
Smoking hot romance? Check

First of all, I just have to say, the introduction written by Thatch set the tone for the book. It was lighthearted, eloquent, and gave Thatch a forum in a book not about him. What's not to love?

I started reading this book while I was sitting in the hairdresser’s chair getting highlights. I know the hairdresser thought I was nuts because I would burst into laughter seemingly at random.

I can so relate to Greer, her snarkiness, her love of food, and how running late is something she just can't avoid. After she makes a bad first impression on her boss, she really tries, well, really is a too strong a word, to get back into his good graces.

Trent Turner, Jr. is the boss who's overseeing his father's newest hotel in New Orleans. Greer wouldn't have been his first choice as a designer on the project considering how she bashed the decor in the NYC flagship hotel.

As they get to know one another, they realize that the other isn't so bad. Greer has a penchant for saying the wrong things at the wrong time and Trent for hearing it. Once Trent realizes that Greer has a heart of gold and interior design skills above reproach, he realizes that he likes Greer. Not for anything other than who she is.

Trent's and Greer's friends are just as entertaining as they are. And if Cap is anything like Thatch, my oh my, I can't wait to read his book.

Keep them coming Max & Monroe, I can't wait to see what's next.


Ruthie☆☆☆☆
Max Monroe books are such fun – if you have never read one, well you are in for a treat with a great back catalogue to indulge... but feel free to start right here! Any fan will know just what I mean, and I have to say this one will have you wanting to read it in one sitting!

Greer has put her heart and soul into her interior design business, but is very close to financial failure, so when an amazing opportunity arises, nothing is going to stand in her way of success. She is appointed by Trent Turner Sr but turns out she will be working with the much less enthusiastic Trent Turner Jr... and we can guess just how their fabulous sarcastic banter is going to lead. Their interactions and conversations are just priceless, especially when she indulges in a 'burner' phone!

I loved how she behaved towards the team, and how her ambition was not selfish, but she recognised the value of the team... even the less than happy George. Her undercover steering was also fun to watch, and I was delighted that Trent Turner Jr had the good sense to both understand and acknowledge this. His growth was undoubtedly thanks to her persistence and caring about the job, as much as for him as a person. I felt that was beautifully written, and well secreted in amongst the wicked banter.

The combination of working together and also falling in love with each other, with all the demands that both roles required, gave us plenty of time to get to know them both and invest in the success of the venture and the relationship. Another hit for me!



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.

Connect with Max Monroe

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Reviewers on the Wicked Reads Review Team were provided a free copy of The Billionaire Boss Next Door by Max Monroe to read and review for this tour. Ruthie reviewed her personal copy of the book.

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