Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire is a steamy contemporary romance out in January 2024.
I have decided to write this daily blog from the characters POV, to get readers excited for the book.
To Whom it May Concern,
This is a long shot.
I’m seeking a billionaire, I will also settle for a millionaire. Sorry, not interested in any salesmen looking to sell me a timeshare or a part of their animal balloon company (been there, done that).
I am not a golddigger, though you may not believe that. I have references. Ask all of my broke exes and my best friend.
To be fair, I am not a glamorous model, actress, or professional dancer. I do, however, take pole dancing lessons (for fun, of course, not dollar bills).
I am an educated (still have the student loans to prove it), open-minded (toy stores are fun, and not for games), fairly cute (when I try), only a little curvy (those last 30 lbs don’t want to leave) single female. I want to be swept off of my feet, wined, dined, and bedded in ways that make me forget my own name.
I have a job (that I hate), with a boss that makes me want to jump off of a cliff. However, my friends make up for the day job. I’m ready for an adventure. And possibly a penthouse with a maid and a design budget.
If interested, please respond before Monday morning, so I don’t have to go into work.
Sultry Sassy Sarah
Note to self. Don’t write stupid ads while half drunk and hanging out with immature obnoxious friends. Certainly do not post them on the internal company message thread by mistake. Do not freak out when your boss says he wants to see you in the office first thing Monday morning. And please never make a joke asking how many dollar bills he has to make it rain ever again.
I’m dead meat.
BLOG TEASERS (These will be updated daily or every other day).
November 15th, 2023
I have a date tonight. And no, it’s not with my TV and Johnson (my mini Golden Doodle). It’s with a real life man. His name is Maverick. I almost turned the date down when I heard his name. Who names their child Maverick? And if he’s self-named, what the hell was he thinking? Supposedly, he works on Wall Street as an analyst for some big brokerage. Lucinda thinks I should be excited. He could be the answer to all of my problems. Her words, not mine. I don’t think I have problems.
I mean, I have $4598.31 in the bank. Not a tremendous amount. But I do have $100,000 in my 401K, so I’m not totally irresponsible. I just don’t have a job that pays extremely well. I didn’t have parents that told me to go into medicine, law, or engineering. No, my parents were sweet and loving and told me to pursue my art.
Which I did. What they neglected to tell me was that art jobs pay like shit. New York is expensive. And they forgot to set up a trust fund for me. So, I’m not exactly rolling in riches.
Or men. But the no men has nothing to do with money and all to do with me having standards. Though Lucinda would beg to differ. She thinks I’ve dated more losers than the average 34 year old, but I beg to differ. Sure, I’ve dated men I wouldn’t be surprised to see on Dateline or America’s biggest Idiots, but it’s not like I knew they were like that in the beginning.
I’m debating what to wear tonight. I can go casual, with jeans and a nice top. Or I can wear a slinky dress, with a bit of boob and high heels. The heels make my calves look slim and sexy, but they absolutely kill my feet and as my mother likes to say, high heels give you bunions. I haven’t seen a photo of Maverick as yet, I don’t know if he’s worth bunions.
I hope he’s cute. Nah, scratch that. I hope he’s hot. I hope he’s so hot that I change the habits of a lifetime and decide it’s time to have a one-night stand. Don’t judge me. I’ve never had one before. I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. But I’m game. If he’s so sexy that I cannot resist.
I do think I deserve a really sexy guy. Just this once. I think that….
Sorry about that…my boss walked by and looked at my screen. I said, “Good Afternoon, Sir…” because my douchebag boss thinks everyone in the office should call him Sir. Even though his name is Ethan Rosser. I’d be fine calling him Ethan or Mr. Rosser, but then again, he doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t think he’s ever said my name. I’m just one of the pleebs that works in the marketing department, selling my soul to create designs for the myriad of products his company sells.
Anyway, I said good afternoon and he didn’t even acknowledge me. Maybe because he didn’t hear me or maybe because I’m a mousey nothing in the office and he’s used to dating models and actresses.
I adjust the glasses that are slipping off of my nose, sit back and sigh. If I could only win the lottery, I wouldn’t have to work this crappy job for my shitty arrogant boss. If only.
Maybe my date tonight will be better than I think it’s going to be. I’ll update tomorrow.
(Leave your comments below on how you think the date is going to go)!
November 16th, 2023
Maverick was not a Maverick in any sense of the word. He was even broker than me. In fact, he left me to pay the entire bill. “Aren’t you a feminist, Sarah?” He asked as I stared at him in shock. I couldn’t believe it. Turns out he used to work for a brokerage on Wall Street, but he lost all his clients a lot of money and he got fired.
I can understand why. I would have fired his ass as well.
To think I wore heels for him. And before you ask, no he wasn’t a hottie. Not that that would have made up for much, but it may have made the entire evening more enjoyable.
He kept asking me if he had halitosis. Do you know what that is? It’s bad breath. Yes, the man with bad breath kept asking me if he had bad breath. What was I supposed to say, no?
I mean, what would you say if an onion breathing dragon asked you if he smelled like onions?
I tried to be polite, really I did. But c’mon, there’s only so much a woman can take. Especially when he was wagging his tongue like he wanted to go down on me. Did he really think I wanted my privates smelling like onions? I could only imagine what my gyno would say. No thanks.
He didn’t seem to like the truth though. Tried to say I was elitist and a snob. I called Lucinda as soon as I left the restaurant. Told her that if she has any other friends who want to “hook me up” then she should say no. I should have known when she didn’t want to date him herself. She’s as single as I am.
Which is not half bad, when I come to think about it. At least I know when I’m spending $100 on a meal, I’m enjoying all of it.
I have a free piece of advice to offer.
Don’t try and order a sex toy while at work. Ignore the emails that say there are only 3 hours left of the 50% off sale. Saving $24.99 is not worth the second hand embarrassment of your boss (who doesn’t even know your name) seeing your screen with a larger than life dildo dancing back and forth to “I like big butts.”
It doesn’t help that I was singing along to image as I wanted for my credit card payment to go through.
Then my boss, Ethan Rosser, a known womanizer in NYC, stops, gives me a look and says, “Is the saying true, once you get a plastic prick, you don’t need a real dick?”
My gasp was LOUD. My face was RED. And then he disappeared.
Ten minutes later, HR sent out an official email telling all staff that it is inexcusable to use company time on porn websites, and that includes shopping for sex toys…KILL ME NOW!
But it gets worse. Way way worse.