Bite Me!

Introducing Holly Mitchell. They call her Hard-ass Holly, and she didn't earn the name by giving people second chances. Profession: Assistant General Manager for the Dalton Hotel. Her secret fantasy: To be dominated. Who would have known?
Tristen Reese, aka Reese, is the ultimate rogue--cosmopolitan male by day, playboy by night. Women don't enter his bedroom expecting to stay long. It's a high-traffic speedway, not a parking lot. Profession: Assistant General Manager for the Gold Star Hotel. His not-so-secret fantasy: To dominate.
The owners of the Dalton and Gold Star hotels have decided to merge. Once the merger takes effect, either Holly or Reese will be promoted to GM of both hotels.
The competition: Both Holly and Reese have 45 days to prove his/her worth to land the position. The loser will have to work under the other.
Enter The Fantasy: When the going gets tough, the tough find ways to alleviate the pressure. A little R & R (Relaxation and Role-playing) never hurt anyone. Unless...
Hard-driven competitors who go for the throat...and who have never met...sign up for a fantasy weekend in Paris, France, where they unknowingly become role players in the same fantasy...in the same bed...
Special Content Alert: Light D/s
Excerpt:
Either she or Tristen Reese would be promoted to General Manager for the Gold "and" the Dalton, and the promotion included a mind-boggling pay hike. The one "not" chosen to fill the GM position would continue on as Chief Marketing Officer for both hotels. A raise in salary plus commissions would also apply to compensate for the extra workload, plus additional marketing personnel would be at his or her disposal.
Both opportunities sounded wonderful if it weren't for the big, silent but attached. Either she or Reese would be answerable to the other who held the superior position.
Then she was told that in order to decide who would be the most suitable candidate for the GM's job, they each had forty-five days to chase down as many new accounts as possible. The one with the higher number would stand a better chance of winning the competition. In addition, they had the same amount of time to compile a presentation, explaining why they would be the best person for the GM's position. Based on performance and the outcome of the interview, the Miranda brothers would make their decision. The competition had begun on March 15th . . . yesterday.
Holly had never met Reese. Hadn't even spoken to him on the phone, but she despised the sneaky bastard with all her heart. The thought of working under him made her want strap on some concrete boots and jump off a bridge.
About once a week, he sent her an email that said, "Have a nice day," which she knew damn well wasn't a friendly greeting but rather his way of tormenting her.
He had kept her so busy chasing her own tail for the past two years that she worked overtime nearly every day to win back the accounts that he had stolen. Obsessed with beating Reese at his own game, she didn't leave the hotel until eight P.M. every week day except Friday, and worked at home nearly every weekend.
And sex? What was that? She hadn't gotten a whole lot of action before she had started working at the Dalton, and what little she had been able to get, had stopped abruptly when the overtime had started.
The only time Holly relaxed was when she and the other six women from the exec offices drove over to an Irish pub on Sunset Boulevard for a few beers every Friday to ring in the weekend. She didn't care that she would have to work with a mild hang-over the next day, since she'd be working from her living room. All that mattered was taking in a little R & R, big-city style.
And it was there that the trouble all began . . . .