SIX MONTHS OF SIN COMPLETE SERIES PAPERBACK BOOK BUNDLE

✅Sinful Escape

✅Sinful Temptations

✅Sinful Promises

Chapter One

Imagine seeing a naked hunk with muscles in all the right places cartwheeling across a stage.
It would be impossible to miss.
My tits are like that. Impossible to miss. They’re also my worst enemy. Especially now.
While I was desperately pleading with my asshole boss to change his company policy, Bruce’s eyes yoyoed up and down between my boobs and my face. I’d already checked my top button was firmly secured, ensuring my cleavage was concealed as much as possible beneath the strained uniform shirt. Yet Bruce continued to eye bounce.
Most of the time I ignored his blatant ogling. Not today, though. Not when he’d just told me that in six months, I could no longer work for Vacation Dreamz.
“It’s company policy,” he repeated for the billionth fucking time.
I wanted to launch over the table, clutch his ugly, stained tie, and yell BULLSHIT. Instead, I clenched my fists below the table, digging my nails into the flesh, and willed my rising fury to calm down.
Last thing I needed was to ruin my perfect employee record.
“But you’ve changed company policy before.” I hated that my voice sounded whiney. “You did it for Nathanial last year.”
“Yes.” He huffed out a disgusting nicotine-plagued breath. “But that was different. We had to make the change for discrimination reasons.”
I grabbed my folded letter from his desk and waved it, resisting the urge to scrunch it into a ball and peg it at him. “Using my age against me is discrimination.”
He rolled his eyes to the clock on the wall behind me. “No, Daisy. It’s not.”
That clock suddenly seemed very loud. Ticking away the seconds like a fateful countdown. A countdown to the end of the only thing in the world that meant something to me . . . my job.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Bruce gathered his pen, hovering it over a blank notepad. He held my gaze. His expression hardened. “Was there anything else?”
He tapped his pen on the notepad. Tap, tap, tap. It was his typical move, signaling the end of our meeting.
“No.” Asshole. “But we haven’t finished—”
“There’s nothing more to discuss. It’s company policy. The end. Oh.” He clicked his fingers. “I nearly forgot.” His bloodshot eyes swooped up from my chest. “You have a new driver.”
I unclamped my jaw. “What?” Shit! Today just got a thousand times worse. “What happened to Clancy?”
“Apparently his wife got sick of him being away and told him to choose between this job and her.” A creepy cackle erupted from his throat, highlighting decades of cigarette abuse. “If you ask me, he made the wrong choice.”
“See? You shouldn’t have changed that company policy insisting that people be single. Married people can’t do this type of job. I’m single—not even close to getting married, so I’m not going anywhere. Yet you’re happy to get rid of me.”
“Not happy, Daisy. We have no choice.” He leaned forward and jabbed a button on his desk phone. “Tracy, send in Roman.”
“Yes, sir.” Tracy’s squeaky voice sounded more high-pitched through the intercom.
“But you do have a choice.”
Tracy’s giggle swallowed up my muffled words as she opened the door and stepped into the room. Following her was a man who had my heart careening to a stop.
If he’s my new driver, I’m in trouble.
Bruce raised his pudgy hand from the table. “Daisy, this is Roman . . . your new man.” Bruce introduced him with a booming voice like he was a WWE wrestler.
Roman strode to me with his hand stretched forward, brandishing dazzling teeth in a brilliant smile.
Standing to greet him, I had no idea where to look. His incredible eyes. His luscious hair. His stunning complexion.
Roman had it all going on.
I’d had six drivers since I started my career as a tour guide—three in their fifties and three in their twenties. The older ones were only doing the job until something better came along. The younger ones wanted to party.
With most of our tour groups comprising of young single people and a fair percentage of them being women, there was plenty of partying. Sex was on tap.
Roman was young and oozing sex appeal.
Clearly, he was here for all the wrong reasons.
And that meant I was in for hell.
“Buongiorno, Daisy.” Roman’s warm hand enveloped mine. “I’ve heard all about you.” Thanks to his Italian accent, even his voice exuded charm.
“Oh. Really?” I looked up into his eyes and was distracted by their interesting honey color.
He released my hand. “Si, Bruce told me you are the top tour guide at Vacation Dreamz.”
“Oh.” Fucking great. One minute Bruce is telling people I’m the best operator he has, next minute he’s telling me I’m out of a job.
“Si, he said you and I will make a great team.”
“Oh.” For a woman whose job involved talking, monosyllables were suddenly my thing.
“On that note . . .” Bruce spun on his chair and thumbed toward the window. “You two better get going.”
In the distance, the London Eye loomed in the sky. The famous icon was just one of the many attractions I’d intended to visit one day. Thanks to my boss’s stupid new policy, I was about to run out of one days.
Bruce’s immediate view overlooked the Vacation Dreamz parking bay. Twenty-four tour buses could be parked there at any one time. Only three were present this morning.
The purple bus, artistically decorated with graffiti images of the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and several other European icons, was mine. I’d been working on the same bus for two and a half years.
Congregating near it, with their abundant luggage, was my tour group for this month. They were waiting for me. Waiting for us—me and my driver.
I hated being late. It was Bruce’s fault. I’d scheduled this meeting a full hour before I was due to start. He’d kept me waiting for forty-five minutes.
Asshole.
Roman rubbed his hands together, drawing my attention back to him. My new hell. “This’s going to be eccellente.”
He held his hand toward Bruce. “Thank you for this opportunity. I will not disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t.” Bruce nodded at me. “Make sure Daisy shows you the ropes.”
Glaring at my boss, I wished I had a voodoo doll of him so I could shove giant needles into his bulging belly very slowly.
Roman turned to me, wriggling his eyebrows, and indicated toward the door with his hand. “After you, signora.”
“Hey, Daisy, don’t forget this.”
Clenching my jaw, I spun to Bruce.
He held forward the folded letter that’d instigated my crisis meeting with him. Bruce’s smug grin confirmed our discussion was over for good.
I snatched the letter, shoved it into my bag, spun on my heel, and stormed from the room.
“What’s up with her?” Roman’s voice, despite being on the other side of the door, no longer sounded slick and charming, but rough-edged.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Bruce answered. “She’ll get over it.”
Get over it!
There was nothing to get over. For two and a half years, I’ve had a job I loved. But it was about to be yanked out from beneath me. That asshole had the power to renew my employment, so I could extend my European Visa. But he’d refused because of some new company policy bullshit.
I strode from the building. If I’d been a cartoon character, steam would’ve been shooting from my ears. But when I saw my new tour group, all buzzing with youthful energy and flashing joyous smiles, I decided I couldn’t let my boss and that stupid letter get to me. Not now. Not when thirty full-paying tourists were counting on me to give them the vacation of their lives.
That’s what I’m going to do.
It was the only thing I was good at.
Crossing the parking lot, I talked to myself like I was a complete nutter.
It’ll be okay.
My career isn’t over. Not yet at least.
I have six months to figure it out.
Glancing down, I checked my shirt was still done up. Yep. All good.
Each month, my boobs suffered scrutiny from a whole new set of people. Worse than just people. These were young tourists, high on life and usually high on something else.
Several months into this career, at the start of each trip, I’d taken to making silent bets with myself on how long It would take before someone would comment on my breasts. For no particular reason, I made today’s bet two minutes.
I was a few feet from my group when I heard a male voice say, “Nice tits.”
Wow. That was barely three seconds. A new record. I scanned the crowd for the loudmouth. “Okay. Who said that?”
A blond-haired man, with almond shaped eyes that pranced from me to his mate, slinked backward.
I zeroed in on him, stepping forward and the mob parted. Not wanting to scare him on day one of our tour, I smiled sweetly. “You were saying?”
“I said, er, nice bus.” He slapped his hand onto the Eiffel Tower artwork.
His mate sniggered.
Out the corner of my eye, Roman slotted into the crowd.
This was my chance to show him exactly how good I was at my job.

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