“Dirty Headlines is a fantastic enemies to lovers office romance with a perfect filthy asshole hero that I wish I’d written myself.” – Laurelin Paige, New York Times bestselling author
Dirty Headlines, an all-new sexy, enemies-to-lovers romance from bestselling author L.J. Shen is LIVE!
Heir to a media empire.
…And my new boss.
I could have impressed him, if not for last month’s unforgettable one-night stand.
I left it with more than orgasms and a pleasant memory—namely, his wallet.
Now he’s staring me down like I’m the dirt under his Italian loafers, and I’m supposed to take it.
But the thing about being Judith “Jude” Humphry is I have nothing to lose.
Heir to a stack of medical bills and a tattered couch.
When he looks at me from across the room, I see the glint in his eyes, and that makes us rivals.
He knows it.
So do I.
Every day in the newsroom is a battle.
Every night in his bed, war.
But it’s my heart at stake, and I fear I’ll be raising the white flag.
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No one does insanely hot asshole heroes like L.J. Shen…the way she creates and develops these sinfully sexy men allows them to become the center of every one of her reader’s world because despite the fact that we can’t decide if we want to nut punch them, slap them, or do a combination of both while also imagining what these perfect specimens of bravado and intellect look like when they’re stripped bare in a number of deliciously decadent ways.
At the onset of Dirty Headlines, it’s clear that Célian Laurent and Judith “Jude” Humphry live in completely different worlds and even though their paths cross for one night of fantastic sex, the second time they connect winds up turning both of their lives on tilt because the first impression that Jude made on Célian turned to shit fairly quickly when she was forced to cross a line and now that she finds herself working for him, Célian’s definitely going to take his shots at her because no one takes from him without paying for it dearly.
The way that Shen crafts Célian’s personality forces Jude and readers to see through his cold and dickish demeanor to the man underneath is definitely a slow process. But as opposed to Shen’s other alpha assholes, it’s much easier to recognize his good qualities and understand why he’s approached his life the way that he has. There are so many layers to who Célian is and fortunately, Jude is the person who unravels his icy personality, forcing him to be a much different version with her, at least when it comes to their time together.
Jude is another one of LJ Shen’s strong heroines and like her predecessors, she has to be due to her circumstances and the guy who she unfortunately, at least at first, can’t get enough of regardless of the things he says and does to her. The way Jude juggles everything while still managing to go after her dreams is commendable; she is definitely a force to be reckoned with and thankfully she found a man who could weather that storm with her despite the bumpy journey they take to get through it all.
What amazes me the most about Shen’s storytelling is how seamlessly she weaves the angsty dramatics throughout the plot line while also clearly illustrating the reality of her characters’ true feelings for one another. I do feel like Célian and Jude’s story is a little lighter than some of Shen’s other books, but it still forces readers’ emotions to run the gamut and it keeps them on their toes as they watch the push and pull between the hero and the heroine play out.
Dirty Headlines is an office romance ON FIRE…I truly don’t know how my fingers didn’t get singed from all of the dirty talking and filthy fucking, and even when
Célian and Jude exchange rude and snarky remarks, the sexual tension oozes off of them, never letting either of them forget who owns them body and soul, even if they fight like heck to deny it and even, at times, defy it.
L.J. Shen is definitely one of my favorite authors for angsty romances, and she continues to showcase why her fans/readers just can’t get enough of her arrogant assholes and the women who ultimately bring these men to their knees.
4.5 Poison Apples
He had an American accent. Not French. American. Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary. He fired out sentences at the speed of light. I heard him, but I couldn’t listen. Shock gripped my body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. My dirty one-night stand was my boss. My lying, American boss. And now I had to deal with that—hopefully for a very long time, because I desperately needed this job.
Someone snapped their fingers, and my gaze shot from Célian’s face to Grayson.
His forehead had crumpled into a frown. “You look like you’re trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. I’m hoping for you that it’s the latter and some kind of a weird-slash-awesome condition. You okay?”
I nodded, scraping up a smile. “Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this dress. I just zoned out for a second.”Lies. I was about to orgasm just remembering how good Célianhad felt parting my thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into my slit.
Then words stopped streaming down on everyone’s heads like a scalding shower, and I realized that indeed there was something worse than hearing Célianspeak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at me like a cocked gun.
I glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at me for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Grayson. “Am I understood, Gregory?” he asked.
“Crystal clear, sir,” Grayson bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.
Célian jerked his chin toward me. “Your cover girl material is going downhill.”
God. Damn. Bastard.
He recognized me, and I knew it. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute our gazes mingled. He remembered, and maybe it killed him that I was here in the same way it buried me.
I want my iPod back, my gaze told him. I had over three thousand songs on that thing, and they were all too good to be wasted on that jerk.
“Jude Humphry. Junior reporter. It’s her first day,” Grayson highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in my direction, as if he might need to physically protect me from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.
I suppressed a smile when I realized I’d told Célianmy last name was Spears. Well, he certainly wasn’t a Timberlake. He was a Laurent. An American monarch through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and judging by our one and only encounter—a raging playboy.
This man was inside you, I internally shrieked. And not just once. His cock was buried so deep in you, you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavor of his cum.You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.
I internally thanked my mind for ruining my panties in public, and nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I offered him my hand, my face flushing with embarrassment at my choice of words.
Everyone was looking at us, and there were at least fifty people in the room. Célian—if that was even his name—ignored my outreached hand. Instead, he turned his face to the man beside him. “Mathias, any other words of wisdom?”
Mathias? Wasn’t that his father? Just how cold was the man with the icy blue eyes?
“I think you touched everything,” said the big boss—and he did have a heavy French accent, so at least the lie had a seed. Mathias stared at me placidly, like he could read the secret his son and I shared on my face.
Célian spun toward me, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. “Accounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Couture is excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog. Miss Humphry?” He snapped his fingers impatiently.
He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing I’d chase him like a puppy, and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
Bone, boner—same difference, right?
I shot Grayson a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would but I still have a life to live.
I followed Célian down the hall, my Chucks slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked “Out!” to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. I did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of us.
Two feet of empty space between us.
About LJ Shen
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people’s’ birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
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