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Mr. Masters
by T.L. Swan
Sponsored
Synopsis
He is powerful, older and my boss, a lethal combination.
Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning.
When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter.
I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny.
I applied for a position working for a woman, or ...
Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning.
When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter.
I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny.
I applied for a position working for a woman, or ...
He is powerful, older and my boss, a lethal combination.
Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning.
When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter.
I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny.
I applied for a position working for a woman, or so I thought.
But Julian Masters is definitely all man…the kind you dream of licking chocolate from.
The first day was bad.
The kids were the spawn of the devil and I spied through a window and caught him doing something obscene…. and equally fascinating.
The second day was worse, he caught me snooping in his bathroom cabinet in my skimpy pyjamas and all hell broke loose.
On the third day, I ran over him in a golf cart.
And by day four I had decided that I wanted that chocolate…all of it.
Melted….on me.
But intelligent, widowed Judges don’t fall for ditzy nannies.
Or do they?
Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning.
When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter.
I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny.
I applied for a position working for a woman, or so I thought.
But Julian Masters is definitely all man…the kind you dream of licking chocolate from.
The first day was bad.
The kids were the spawn of the devil and I spied through a window and caught him doing something obscene…. and equally fascinating.
The second day was worse, he caught me snooping in his bathroom cabinet in my skimpy pyjamas and all hell broke loose.
On the third day, I ran over him in a golf cart.
And by day four I had decided that I wanted that chocolate…all of it.
Melted….on me.
But intelligent, widowed Judges don’t fall for ditzy nannies.
Or do they?
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