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Fairy Godmothers, Inc.

By: Maren Smith
Published By: Red Hot Romance Publishing
Copyright: � 2013 by Red Hot Romance and Maren Smith
5 Chapters / 29,000 Words
Heat Level:
4.3 Out Of 5 (4.3 on 3)   |  Write a review

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Two stories for the price of one, right here for your reading pleasure!

Jack Morgan had been out of work for nearly two months. He'd finally lost the fight and was made homeless by a woman with purple hair. He had spent fifty-five fruitless days job hunting, ate pizza from a dumpster, sat through over a hundred interviews and had the rejection notices to prove it. He knew what desperation felt like, because certainly desperation was the driving force that propelled him past that Help Wanted sign and into a very ordinary looking lobby. He needed a job, and he'd do anything to get one - even if that meant working for a place like Fairy Godmothers, Inc.

This is a contemporary spanking romance, 22,701 words/four chapters plus one short story. If you object to heroes who are unaffected by political correctness and unafraid to turn their lady loves bottom-up, then please don't buy this book.
He had been out of work for nearly two months and evicted from his apartment last week. It now belonged to a woman with purple hair and a cat named Muffy. Fifty-five days of fruitless job hunting. Over a hundred interviews, with over a hundred rejections to go with them. This was what desperation felt like.

Jack Morgan looked around the polished office interior: blue knit rug, dark wood desk, plastic plant in the corner, a dinosaur of a computer. He�d seen four others just like it today... well, except for the computer. That beast literally looked to be a replica of one of the very first computers ever built. It consumed an entire wall with flashing lights and whirring fans and hardware.

He sighed and looked at his wrist where his watch had been until he�d pawned it. He rolled his eyes at himself, then turned to look out the window, trying to judge the time by the position of the sun and shadows. It was probably close to two. He�d been doing this all day, and he still didn�t have a job. Hell, he didn�t even know what he was applying for. All he saw was the Help Wanted sign in the window, and the rest was pure reflex.

He tapped his fingers restlessly against the arm of the chair, trying to ignore his growling stomach. Not wanting to look as desperate as he felt, he quickly folded his hands in his lap and tapped his foot instead. He hated this part. The waiting while some stranger in another room looked over his application. The stress was almost enough to make him eager for his next rejection, just so he could get it over with.

The office door suddenly swung open and a plump gray-haired woman stepped inside.

�I�m sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Morgan,� she said. She quietly closed the door behind her and walked around him to sit in the leather bound swivel chair across the desk from him. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners behind thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

She looked like someone�s grandmother, Morgan thought. Grandmothers always gave you a job.

Glancing briefly down over his list of skills and references, she then folded her hands over the page and sighed. Recognizing that pressed look about her mouth, Morgan almost laughed. The urge to cry was stronger. It was surprising how situations like this could decimate a man�s pride. He�d left his in the same dumpster he�d taken his dinner out of the night before.

With a slight shake of her head, she smiled again. �I�m afraid we don�t have anything we could offer you.�

So he had already been told four times today. Clenching his jaw in mute frustration, Morgan started to get up, but then changed his mind and sat back down again. �Why not?�

The grandmotherly woman looked surprised. �I beg your pardon?�

�So far today, I have been over-qualified, under-qualified, too �punk looking� and fifteen minutes too late. I just want to know why you have a help wanted sign in your window, but nothing for me.�

Flustered, the elderly woman straightened the stack of papers before her. �It�s just, well, you�ve run your own business for the last eight years.�

And had done well, right up until the Electronics World Repair Store had opened up shop less than half a block down from his and put him out of business. It had been a slow death, taking nearly eleven months before his debts finally swamped him and Morgan simply had to give up.

�That means all your work history prior to that isn�t verifiable,� the woman continued. �We pride ourselves in knowing the people who come to work for us. We believe in dependability and good people skills. Everyone we send out into the field is always screened with impeccable thoroughness.� She bit her lip. �But we can�t do that with you.�

His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. �I ran my own business. I was good at it. Doesn�t that make me dependable and true.

�Well, I,� she fumbled for a response. �I-I�m afraid it doesn�t, no. I�� When his face grew even darker, she hastened to explain. �I�m not saying that you aren�t trustworthy. But we work very intimately with the public and we just need to be sure��

�I can work with the public,� Morgan stated, hating the desperation that had him clinging to the edge of her desk as much as he hated the idea of walking to that next help wanted sign.

�I�m sure you can, but you don�t understand. Most of my employees are retired women looking for part-time work.�

�So this isn�t about my work history?� he said. �You won�t hire me because I�m thirty and I�m a man.�

She leaned back in her chair, her apologetic expression infuriating him.

�Have you ever eaten out of a garbage bin?� he suddenly asked her. �I did. I had pizza, from a soggy box covered in Coke and spaghetti sauce. I�ve never not had a job. Not in all my adult life. I�ve never not had a house, or been unable to pay my bills. I�ve never even been late on a payment until this happened, but then one little thing happens and now I�ve got nothing. They�ve even repossessed my car. And you�re telling me that I don�t understand? I�m sorry, Ma�am. It�s you who�s not understanding. I�m begging you for a chance. I�ll do whatever you need; I�m not proud. I�ll come to work early and leave late every night. I�ll work hard. You�ll never have so much as a single complaint about me.�

Again, at a loss for words, she opened her mouth, and then promptly shut it again. She picked up his application, once more looking it over, no doubt so that she wouldn�t have to suffer the discomfort of having to meet his eyes. And Morgan knew without a doubt that the job was well and truly lost to him.

He nodded once and tried to gather together what little remained of his tattered pride. �I�m sorry I wasted your time.�

Morgan stood up to go. He was out of her office, across the waiting room lobby, and actually had his hand on the door to the unforgiving outside world when he heard her calling after him. �Wait.�

He turned around, certain he was about to hear a very lame �I�m sorry� and was already dreading the sounds of it, when the woman said, �Come back inside, please.�

Morgan glared at her, and then turned to stare out the window at a city full of employment opportunities. None of which seemed to be open to him.

�Please,� the elderly woman said gently. �Come and sit down.�

After a moment, when she stepped aside to invite him into her office once more, Morgan took his hand off the door and quietly made his way back to her. He sat down in that blue chair in front of her desk again and waited for the chewing out he halfway expected her to give him.

But instead, the woman sat down, folding her hands before her as she looked at him. �We shall consider your tenure here with us as temporary, with the prospect of a more permanent position once you have proven yourself effective at completing your assignments.�

Morgan sat in disbelief, his hands in his lap, not at all sure what to say. Two minutes of desperation had just won him what two months of professionalism and false confidence had failed to: He�d just been hired.

�Mr. Morgan?�

He quickly cleared his throat. �Uh, yes. Yes, ma�am. That�s fine. Whatever you want. Like I said, I�m not proud. Just, uh...� He spread his hands. �What kind of assignment did you have in mind?�

�It varies. Our cases are sent to us by computer and the computer judges how well we resolve each individual issue..� She began to dig through the file folders in her In basket. �Like this one.� She opened the file and laid it out before her. �I actually don�t expect much success with this first assignment, but I�ll give it to you anyway. I�ve had three different employees try to tackle Merry Levine.� The woman shook her head and then closed the file and passed it across the desk as well. �I�ll warn you now, she�s going to be a handful.�

Morgan picked it up. He opened the file to a photo of a blonde haired, blue eyed young woman with a pixie face and an enchanting smile. She was sitting on the back of a park bench, her feet on the seat, and holding a blonde Labrador puppy against her chest. She looked like an angel. She also looked familiar. And for a moment he could have sworn he�d seen her in a movie once. �What am I supposed to do?�

�Anything you can think of. We specialize in hard luck cases. Individuals who slip through the cracks. Whose lives are going nowhere. The ones who could benefit most from a tiny little miracle.� Her eyes crinkled around the corners as she smiled. �Like the one I just gave you. Think of this first case as a test of your ingenuity. Merry�s case is one of the harder ones; just a hair�s-breadth away from becoming a lost cause. But your solution to her problem will help give me some insight into what sort of cases you�d be best at handling.� She lay a three-page carbon copy form in front of him. �Sign at the bottom, please.�

Accepting the pen she handed him, Morgan looked at it. �What is this?�

�Just a formality. It�s standard policy. We have everyone sign a confidentiality statement swearing that all activities that transpire within our company not be revealed to anyone outside of it.� She indicated the line at the bottom of the page where he should put his name.

Arching an eyebrow skeptically, he nevertheless signed where she pointed.

Taking a blue notebook from the top drawer of her desk, she proudly handed it to him. �Welcome aboard, Mr. Morgan.�

The large gold letters across the top of the notebook said �Fairy Godmothers, Inc. Welcomes You As A New Employee�. Morgan looked at her. �You�re joking, right?�

�Is there a problem?�

Behind those twinkling eyes and pursed lips, she was laughing at him, he just knew it.

Shifting in his chair, he stared at the notebook again and scratched his chin with his other hand. He cleared his throat and shifted again. �This isn�t going to be my job description... is it?�

The woman�s smile widened. �Afraid so. But what�s in a name, remember. Do you still want the job?�

It was either become a fairy and get a paycheck, or go back to slapping the pavement for work. No matter what title he had to work under, it was still a job.

Morgan made himself smile. �Yes, ma�am. I want it.�

She beamed. �Splendid! You�re objective is to complete the job as quickly as possible, and you will be working undercover while you do it. No one, not even Merry, can know what you really are.�

He wasn�t about to object to that.

�Ever since that whole Cinderella scandal, we�ve had to be very careful. If you are successful, and you find your work enjoyable, then I see no reason why you can�t enjoy a full time position with us here.�

�How will I know when the job is done?�

�We here at Fairy Godmothers, Inc., are in the business of making the heart�s fondest dreams come true. If you are successful, trust me, Mr. Morgan, you�ll know it.� She wrote an address onto a yellow post-it note and handed it to him.

�Empress Studios?� he asked, reading the note. �You know, I thought she looked familiar.�

�You�ll be working there for the duration of the Merry Levine assignment. They always need gophers to fetch and carry for the stars. Merry especially so; you�ll know why when you meet her.�

He scoffed. �She�s one of the most popular rising stars in America . How hard luck can she be?�

�The financially unstable aren�t the only people who could do with a little miracle now and then. She�s all alone in the world and has been since she was sixteen. Acting is all she�s ever done, but if she keeps on the road she is, she won�t even have that for very long. As I said before, she�s something of a handful. In addition to our paycheck, you�ll get an extra seven-fifty an hour from the Empress. No benefits for the ninety day hire-on grace period and you�ll have to join the union, but I doubt it will take you ninety-days to complete your assignment. Typically, we like to see a week turn-around per case.�

�Okay. No problem.� Morgan looked back down at the address. An hour ago he�d walked in here without a job, now he was leaving with two. Funny how life worked.

�Your salary with us is generally reflective of how many cases you manage satisfactorily,� the elderly woman continued, nodding over her shoulder to the massive computer.

His mouth tightened when he looked at it. It was probably maintained by Electronics World.

�Since you�re just starting out,� the woman said. �Your salary will roughly average out to about eighteen thousand annually. The benefits package is explained in your employee manual, along with vacation and sick time, and there�s a bus pass in the back folder pocket. If there�s anything else you need to know, just give me a call. My name is Peggy Austin, and I�ll be your caseload supervisor.�

Eighteen thousand was far less than what he was accustomed to making, even with the seven-fifty Empress Studio bonus money, but Morgan was more than grateful to get it. He stood up and held out his hand to shake hers. �Nice to meet you, Ms. Austin. And thanks for the job. I really appreciate the opportunity.�

She smiled. �Welcome aboard.�

Once more, Morgan turned to go. He had just reached the door when Peggy jumped up from her desk.

�Bless me, I almost forgot!� She rushed over to the filing cabinet and began to rummage through a lower drawer before coming up with a long black wand with a cheap glitter-speckled star on one the end. She handed it to him. �Here you go. What�s a Fairy Godmother without a wand?�

Morgan made himself smile back at her, but the minute he was in the lobby and her office door was closed, he stuck the wand, star end down, in his back pocket and hoped he didn�t get laughed off the cross-town bus.
Connie on 03/16/2014 08:18pm
Jack Morgan is unemployed and homeless,through no fault of his own. He sees a sign for help-wanted and applies. He has hired, after some discussion, to be a fairy godmother it is given impossible to solve cases. He has a unique way of bringing young women back in line and is very successful. Two short fun books in one and I enjoyed reading about Merry in the first book and Coralie in the second and their individual experiences with Jack.
Rhonda on 12/31/2013 10:54pm
This book had two cute short stories with a twist. Morgan was unemployed and homeless. He gets a job as a Fairy Godmothet. His way of getting the clients on track is truly unique...he soundly spanks them!
Kalysta on 12/04/2013 04:08pm
Best book I've read on Blushing Books by far. For the most part I've found that brats weren't bratty enough, but that is not the case in this novel!

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