His blue eyes danced. “Oh, yes, you do. So you tell
The Washington Post,
of all places, that you call me ‘my esteemed colleague’ when we’re alone?”
“It was a joke.” I smiled. “Fair is fair.”
“So this is payback?” He hit my butt again.
“Pretty good, don’t you think?”
“No. I think I’m going to have to put up with a lot of ribbing, and I think you get another right now,” he said. The paper snagged my panties with the next swat.
“Hey, you’re going to ruin my underwear.” I giggled.
His smile twisted into a sexy one. “Then we should take them off.”
“So you can spank me with
The Washington Post
?” I snorted.
He leaned in for a kiss. “I think it is fitting. Don’t you?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe so much to many wonderful women who’ve helped me with this story over its various incarnations. Most recently, Rosette Alcantara Doyle, Margo Griffith Houston, Michelle Kannan, and Flavia Viotti Siqueira all have been great substantive editors for me. Your insights are truly a writer’s inspiration to do better.
In addition, my writer friends, Ruth Clampett, Liv Morris, Daisy Prescott, and S.L. Scott, are a bottomless well of support, advice, and laughter.
Finally, I’d like to thank my wonderful husband and daughters. I promise you I love you more than the screen I stare at all day.
MARY WHITNEY
Even before she graduated from law school, Mary knew she wasn’t cut out to be a real lawyer. Drawn to politics, she’s spent her career as an organizer, lobbyist, and nonprofit executive. Nothing piques her interest more than a good political scandal or romance, and when she stumbled upon writing, she put the two together. A born Midwesterner, naturalized Texan, and transient resident of Washington, DC, Mary now lives in Northern California with her two daughters and real lawyer husband.
To learn more about this author and her writing,
please visit
www.WordyMary.com
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