When my cheating ex destroyed my life, I did what any reasonable woman would do—I dove head-first into a petty revenge scheme. After all, I've always been more of a 'go down swinging' kind of girl. My brilliant plan? Deliver hate notes to my ex's biggest business rival until he’s so fed up he hires me just to make it stop. Too bad nobody warned me that my newest boss would be six-foot-three of grumpy, dimpled perfection—or that beneath his icy exterior beats the heart of a man who sends me scandalously demanding emails by night and gives glimpses of surprising tenderness behind his scorching glares. Now I'm falling for the man I'm supposed to be sabotaging, stealing kisses between meetings and pretending I don't live for those moments when his perfect control slips. My ancient, possibly immortal cat judges me daily for this mess, but then again, he also judges me for showering. I never meant to find purpose in this job or trust again after having my heart shattered. But somehow the grumpiest boss in the city has me believing in second chances—even if mine might expire the moment he discovers why I really took a job working under him. Let’s just how this doesn’t blow up in my face as badly as the time I tried to potty train my cat.