What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

Lola laughed. “And very much a family affair. All the way around.”

She kissed Alex.

He grinned. Beamed, really, and said, “Yeah, I’ve got it made, people.”

About the Author

Calista is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing! She is an Amazon bestseller and has won many reviewers’ and readers’ choice awards, as well as best book awards and other competitions with publication as first prize. Calista is a college graduate and teaches online writing classes. She is also past president/advisor of the Phoenix Chapter of Romance Writers of America.

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What Maxi Needs

Chapter One

“The biggest meeting of your life is in ten minutes,” Avril Harding announced on Monday morning as she sauntered into Maxi Shayne’s office. “And you’re still deciding what shoes to wear?”

Maxi’s gaze flitted briefly from her assistant to the siren-red stilettos Maxi had just slipped on. “Sometimes six inches are exactly what a girl needs.” She winked.

“Maxi.” Avril, perky and blonde, propped a hand on her slim hip. “No time for innuendos. You have a full-division summit to head. Your first meeting—of hopefully many—as Vice President of Operations. Time to be serious.”

“You don’t think I’m serious?” Maxi countered. “Christ, I’m sweating bullets. I’ve changed blouses twice already. Now I’m wearing black, in the event I turn into a glistening pile of oh, shit, I can’t really do this executive thing! in front of my staff. I’m praying they won’t notice the nervous underarm excretions, you know? Therefore, the shoes”—she stood and showed off the gorgeous high heels—“have a twofold purpose. One, they ought to distract the eighty percent of males on my team, and two, they’ll offer me the inspiration I need to pull this whole damn out-of-the-blue catastrophe out of the toilet.”

Avril’s pretty pink lips pursed. “I understand the pressure you’re under. The former director bailing at the first sign of production trouble scared the bejesus out of the VP and he ran for the hills, too, retiring early. Now the job’s all yours. And with the current strike—”

“Potential current strike,” Maxi quickly corrected.

Avril gave her a come on, sweetie, wake up and smell the conveyor belts grinding to a halt look. She said, “Given our new production issues, we’re losing momentum with that stellar ad campaign Lola and the Marketing team launched. It’ll totally go to waste if something isn’t done ASAP. Staci knew you were the woman for this job—she has complete faith in you to get operations back on track. So buck up, strut those long legs into that conference room and crack the whip!”

“Oh, fuck,” Maxi said in a wry tone. “What the hell have I done to you? After just four months—”

“I sound like you?” Avril beamed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much. I was thrilled to join your staff when you were the Manager of Operations, but now that you’re the VP? We can rule the world.” She gave a slightly devious, though mostly quirky smile.

Maxi laughed softly at her assistant. Avril was vivacious with huge golden eyes, a positive attitude, and bright ideas. She was fresh out of NYU with a degree in business and more energy than the battery-operated bunny. Her enthusiasm was contagious, despite the dire straits the Operations division was suddenly in.

Continuing, Avril said, “It’s a damn shame that the push in promotion has turned everything upside down.”

Maxi cringed. Her best friend, Lola Vonn, who had held newbie Avril’s position up until four months ago, had landed herself a sweet job in Marketing when she’d pitched a risqué campaign for Staci Kay Shoes. Her team had helped her to take the concept to the highest level and, as a result, sales were through the roof.

A fantastic success for Lola, Marketing, and Staci, the owner of the company. But a huge crisis for manufacturing and distribution. The company simply couldn’t match the supply to the demand.

Shaking her head, Maxi said, “This is Business 101: Give Consumers What They Want. Yet, we can’t keep up.”

“Your pep talk this morning will be a great shot in the arm to get everything moving in the right direction,” Avril assured her. “And I have your mission statement all packaged up.” She indicated the numerous shiny black presentation folders contained in the opened box she held in her arms.

The folios bore the logo for Staci Kay Shoes, along with the campaign slogan Lola had come up with—Leave Your Shoes On—scrawled across the front in a crimson font that looked like lipstick.

Continuing, Avril said, “Your PowerPoint with all of those motivational sayings and photos is loaded and ready to roll. So… go knock ’em dead, boss.”

Maxi pulled in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. She’d worked for Staci Kay Shoes for six years, starting as a college intern at the age of nineteen. When Lola had joined the team in Baltimore three years ago, Maxi was already Manager of Operations. Now Maxi’s friend was in the Scottsdale hub for Marketing, Public Relations, and Sales, and Maxi was at the top of her respective division, overseeing all of the departments related to general operations.

Prematurely, she wouldn’t dispute. She certainly could use another few years under her belt in the director position so that she had ample access to a mentor and could have her finger on the pulse of the division. As it was, she’d never been to any executive meetings and had not led meetings above her own staffing level—she sure as hell didn’t know the first thing about addressing the VPs and directors located within the Baltimore Operations conglomerate.

Her stomach churned at the idea of heading this meeting, and she felt beads of perspiration pop along her nape. Snatching her compact from her purse, she checked her makeup for the umpteenth time, ensuring the smoky accents to her blue eyes had not smudged, nor had the neutral gloss that she wore. Her dark hair held beachy curls that defied East Coast humidity. Gold streaks twined through the strands that fell just past her shoulders.

The black button-down shirt she wore as well as the short black skirt were wrinkle-resistant, so at least she looked well-preserved despite her anxiety. And the red stilettos provided just the right amount of va va voom to boost her confidence.

She dabbed at the back of her neck with a tissue, then said to Avril, “Guess we’d better get the show on the road.”