Grace — perfect grades, perfect scores, the perfect Asian.  She soon learns that none of that means jack shit.  Read to find out why and what she does about it.

That’s the first version of the book cover, it’ll change (the blonde will hold a lacrosse stick).  Let us know if you’re adept with Canva and want to improve it.

Anyhow, enjoy these excerpts!

Chapter 15, Show, don’t tell

A knock rang through the office door.

Dr. Nance looked up from his desk, setting aside the papers he’d been reviewing. Before he could respond, the door cracked open, and Sally stepped inside, her clipboard held against her chest.

“Dr. Nance, your 10 a.m. is here—Miss Nguyen,” she announced.

“Thank you, Sally. Show her in.”

Sally stepped aside, and Grace strode into the room, the brisk clickity clacks of her heels filling the room with her presence. Dr. Nance’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on her figure before it found her face.

“Miss Nguyen,” he said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Grace smiled and shook his hand, her grip soft yet confident, like that of a dancer meeting her partner’s lead. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Nance.”

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs across his desk.

Grace smoothed her black pencil skirt as she lowered herself onto the leather chair, the hem riding up well past her knees. The sight drew Dr. Nance’s notice, remaining there as he settled into his seat. Opening the folder on his desk, his attention shifted to her face, finding soft features tinted with impenetrable determination.

“Miss Nguyen,” he began, watching her fingers tug at the hem of her skirt, “I’ve reviewed your application, and as far as grades and scores go, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, Dr. Nance,” said Grace, pressing her knees together, her stocking-clad legs rubbing faintly against one another. “I’m sure you’ll find my other qualities just as…” She paused, lifting a leg and crossing it over her thigh, the hem pulling back to reveal more. “…impressive.”

He pressed his lips together before continuing. “So, tell me—what unique qualities do you believe you’d bring to Harvard Medical School?”

She leaned back, placing her hands on her knee, her fingers tracing a message on it. “Last summer, I interned at Columbia Presbyterian,” she began. “I spent my days working in the ER, assisting with triage and patient stabilization, and my nights in the nanotechnology biotech lab. It was…” She paused, her fingers pressing into her knee, her eyes dropping to search for the right word before rising to meet his. “…intense.”

“So,” he began, pausing as her leg uncrossed, the sharp click of her heel striking the floor. “You’re familiar with the grind of residency work, it seems?”

“Yes, absolutely,” she replied, crossing her other leg. This time, the motion offered Dr. Nance a flash of white, leaving him visibly flustered. “In fact, I’ve always believed the longer shifts taught us how to push our limits. There’s something satisfying about working through exhaustion and still delivering results.”

She slipped off her glasses, her fingers brushing the frames. “It builds character, don’t you think?” she asked, tucking them into her purse. Her lashes dipped briefly before her eyes lifted to meet his.

“Yes… um…absolutely,” he said, the pen in his hand bending under the pressure of his grip.

“So anyway, there was this one day I showed up completely exhausted after working late into the night with the lab director on a technically challenging metabolic engineering procedure,” she said, her hands spreading wide, pressing into the air as though holding a giant beachball. “My hair was a mess,” she added, uncrossing her legs and ruffling her hair with mock frustration. “Like this—this is what it looked like,” she said, shooting him a pointed look. “See?”

“I see, and…”

She cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. “So I was, like, horrified when I saw myself in the mirror. I looked like I’d just been through the roughest night of my life,” she said, giggling. “But in that reflection, despite—or maybe because of—the exhaustion, a thought popped into my head,” she continued, clapping her hands together. “It was, like, so fucking illuminating!”

Dr. Nance shifted in his seat, one hand slipping under the desk as he adjusted his posture. His jaw tightened as he kept his eyes locked on her, trying to focus.

“So I stood there, staring at my mess, and thought of something,” she said, gathering her hair into her hands. Her arms lifted, twisting her hair into a loose bun on top of her head. The motion pulled her chest up, the curve of her breasts now framed by her raised elbows. “Dr. Nance, tell me—what do you see?”

“I see… umm,” he said, his voice cracking as his eyes darted between her face and the taut fabric of her blouse.

“What you should see is a protein folding,” she said, gesturing with her bun. “Proteins start out messy—chaotic strings of amino acids. But when they fold, they become structured, purposeful, functional.” She paused, her head turning in slow circles as her fingers twisted her bun, as though folding the protein herself. “But if they fold wrong, it’s a disaster. Alzheimer’s. Parkinson’s. All because of a misfolded protein.”

She released her arms, letting her hair tumble back down over her shoulders. “That’s when it hit me,” she said, smacking her palm on her forehead. “The key isn’t perfect structure—it’s flexibility,” she continued, her voice softening as she arched her back, her hands pressing into her thighs. “Life is messy, Dr. Nance. And molecular engineering has to work with the mess… not against it.”

He cleared his throat, his grip on the pen loosening as he leaned forward. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Medicine, molecules… they are messy. Biology rarely gives us clean solutions.” He paused as she crossed her leg again, her shoe dangling from her toes. “So, Miss Nguyen,” he said, the thud and tap of her shoe dropping onto the floor breaking his focus. “How did you, er, resolve the messy protein problem?

Grace glanced down at the shoe lying on the floor as she shifted in her chair. “I’m afraid I can’t share the exact details of how we solved the problem,” she said, flexing her stocking-clad toes and brushing them slowly up her calf. “You know, confidentiality and all that,” she added with a shrug.

Her toes traced down her calf again. “But I can tell you this much—it wasn’t easy,” she said, her toe nudging the other shoe off her foot. Dr. Nance twitched at the soft taps of the shoe rolling on the floor.

“The real challenge,” she continued, folding both legs onto the chair into a cross-legged position, “was dealing with the instability. The protein kept shifting, refusing to hold its shape… almost like it needed reassurance before it could settle.” She bit her lower lip as she watched him nod, his eyes entranced by the view of her lap.

“And that’s the thing about messy problems, isn’t it, Dr. Nance? They don’t respond to brute force,” she said, pounding her fist into her palm, startling Dr. Nance out of his trance. “You have to understand the underlying dynamics, coax them into alignment, work with their tendencies instead of against them. It’s a delicate process.” She unfolded her legs, bending over to slip her shoes back on. Straightening, she met his glazed eyes with a faint smile. “Would you like me to walk you through the theory behind it?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’d appreciate that. Walk me through the theory,” he managed to say.

Grace’s smile widened, her heels tapping excitedly on the floor. “Great, let’s dive in,” she said, rising from her chair. His eyes followed her crisp stride as she made her way to the whiteboard.

She picked up a marker and began writing with confident strokes, equations and chemical structures flowing from her hand. “You see, Dr. Nance, the key to stabilizing the protein is understanding its binding affinity,” she explained, her hand resting on her hip.

Her skirt rode up as she reached up to write on the higher part of the board. “The binding sites,” Grace continued, tapping the board with the marker, “are like the perfect dance partners. They need to fit just right, to hold on tight without being too clingy.” She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. “Are you following, Doctor?”

“Yes, yes, the binding sites,” he stammered, his hand reaching for something under the table. “They need to be… uh, compatible.”

“Exactly,” Grace said, turning back to the board. “It’s all about the right chemistry. You need to coax the molecules into the right position, much like seducing them into place.” She bent over to write another equation near the bottom of the board. “And this is what it looks like, algebraically.”

The hem of her skirt lifted high enough to reveal the lace tops of her stockings. “Seducing them into place,” he repeated, trying to focus on the equation instead of her butt. “That’s quite the… technique.”

She straightened up, turning to face him. “Oh, it’s all about finesse, Dr. Nance. You have to be gentle yet firm, guiding them with a steady hand.” She paused, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for just a moment before adding, “Just like in any good relationship.”

He chuckled nervously. “I see. So, it’s about finding the right balance?” He had no idea what he was saying anymore.

“Absolutely,” Grace affirmed, putting down the marker. “It’s a delicate dance of attraction and repulsion, much like the forces at play in the lab… and elsewhere.”

He nodded as he had when he was about to lose his virginity at his aunt’s house. “A delicate dance,” he murmured, his eyes following her movements as she walked back to her seat. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

“Great, Dr. Nance,” she said, sitting down and crossing her legs. She folded her arms across her chest, her expression inscrutable. “Is there anything else you want me to show you?”

His eyes bulged as his mind raced with obscene thoughts. Unable to answer the question with any honesty or clarity, he said, “Well, I certainly know now what Dr. Johnstone meant by you being more of a… ‘show than tell’ type of person, Miss Nguyen.”

“Action over words, Dr. Nance.”

“Well, Miss Nguyen,” he said, straightening himself. “Is there anything else you’d like to show me?”

“Sure,” she replied, unbuttoning a button on her blouse, revealing the curve of her cleavage. “Let’s see, how about biomechanics and anatomy?”

He nodded, unsure whether to feel dread or anticipation—or both.

“Let’s get started, then.” Still seated, she reached under her skirt and slid her panties down her legs and over her heels, tossing them onto his desk. “Take a sniff, Dr. Nance,” she said as she unbuttoned another button on her blouse, revealing the edge of her bra. “Tell me what you smell.”

He stared at the lacy garment on his desk, his fingers twitching before he picked it up. His focus flicked back to Grace, who leaned back in the chair and spread her legs, draping them over the armrests. She unfastened another button on her blouse and flashed him an amused smile.

He hesitated, holding the panties in his hand. Finally, he raised them to his nose. “I… I don’t know,” he sputtered. “It’s… floral? A hint of… musk?”

“That’s correct,” she said, clapping as she swung her legs off the armrests and planted her feet on the ground, the crisp clack of her heels startling him. “And something else,” she added, rising from her chair.

She moved around his desk with measured steps, the rhythmic clicks of her heels making him squirm. When she reached him, she eased herself onto his lap. Her breath warmed his ear as her lips hovered close. “The scent of a woman’s arousal.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she silenced him with a kiss on his lips. “Do you recognize it, Doctor?” she asked.

“Yes,” he groaned, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. Her hand rested on his chest, her fingers tracing the firm outline of his muscles before drifting lower, toward his crotch.

Her hand pressed down on his erection. “And what are the chemical compound of the scent of a woman?”

“Vaginal…” The word slipped out unevenly, his jaw tightening as he struggled to focus. “Vaginal lubrication during arousal… driven by blood flow and estrogen. It… it consists of water, mucins, lactic acid…” His voice wavered as her hand pressed harder. “Proteins, lipids, glycogen…” A low sound rumbled in his throat, the rest of his answer barely coherent. “These components reduce friction… support tissue health.”

“Tell me, Doctor,” she purred, her fingers toying with the button of his trousers. “How many times did you stroke yourself during our little interview?”

“I… I didn’t count,” he mumbled as she took his hand and placed it on her thigh.

“Did you hear anything I said about protein molecules?” she inquired, parting her legs as his hand slid higher.

“No… not really,” he admitted, his fingers brushing against her wetness.

Her breath stuttered as his finger entered her. She clenched her thighs around his hand, holding it in place.

“Tight, yes?”

“Yes, very.”

“Do you jerk off when you interview other women?” she asked, her voice tremoring as her hips rocked against his hand.

“No,” he said, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. “This is the first time I’ve done anything like this.”

She smiled, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Rising from his lap, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hiking her skirt up to her waist as she settled back onto him, straddling his thighs. Her lips found his again, deep and lingering, while her hands moved to the buttons of her blouse.

Breaking the kiss, she slipped her blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes remained on his as her fingers moved behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slide away. “So, is this unique enough for you?” she asked.

“Yes, very unique,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on her modest breasts, their swollen nipples drawing his focus.

She tilted forward, her nipples brushing against his lips. “So I’m not a stereotypical Asian girl?”

“No, not at all.” His mouth found her nipples, tongue swirling around them as one hand fumbled to open his trousers. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, the words muffled like a boy confessing with his mouth full of stolen cookies.

She slid off his lap just as his erection pressed against her entrance, nearly entering her. Dropping to her knees, she looked up and met his eyes. Her mouth opened, tongue sliding out to trace a slow path along his shaft. At the tip, she swirled her tongue around the head before pulling away.

Rising to her feet, she bent to kiss him, pulling back as he reached to deepen it. She removed his hands from her hips, bending to pick up her bra. Sliding the straps over her shoulders, she said, “Dr. Nance, we can finish this lesson after I get my acceptance notice.”

He froze. Violent thoughts raced through his mind as he watched her wiggle her arms through her blouse sleeves.

“Maybe you can show me around Boston when I visit to check out my housing options?” she said, fastening the buttons on her blouse. “Shoot me an email, okay?”

He sat in silence, watching her as she combed her fingers through her hair, pulling it into a ponytail before letting it fall loose over her shoulders.

She exhaled, shaking her head as her eyes flitted over his prostrate figure. Turning back, she picked up her panties and pressed them into his hands, her fingers tightening around his to hold them there. “Dr. Nance,” she said, staring into his glazed eyes. “This is my gift to you for taking the time to meet with me.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t move.

“And I like my follow-up meetings at the Ritz-Carlton,” she said, kissing him once more on the lips.

Grace straightened, gathered her belongings, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

 

And from:

Chapter 11
Taming Mr. Creeper

 

“I guess people really do wear bathrobes around hotels,” Bree said as the elevator carried the women to the pool and spa level.

“Doesn’t mean that guy isn’t a perv,” Hannah said, tightening her bathrobe.

The elevator doors opened to reveal the pool area, warm and humid with the faint scent of chlorine. The swimming pool sparkled under the domed glass ceiling, surrounded by faux palm trees and rows of white-cushioned lounge chairs.

Grace stepped out first, untying her bathrobe and letting it slide off her shoulders to reveal her one-piece swimsuit. She strode to the pool’s edge and dove in, her body cutting through the water with powerful and smooth strokes.

“Damn,” Bree said, pausing to watch as she took off her bathrobe, revealing a bright pink bikini that barely covered her tits and ass. “Show-off.”

“Right? She’s like part dolphin or something,” Hannah added as she removed her bathrobe, revealing a sleek black bikini that clung to her body like a second skin.

Grace reached the far end of the pool and pushed off the wall with a quick flip turn. Bree and Hannah jumped in with loud splashes, laughing as they swam toward her.

“You’re insane,” Bree said, approaching Grace. “I forgot how fast you are.”

Grace ducked her head with a modest smile. “I haven’t been swimming as much lately,” she said. “It feels good to be back in the water.”

Hannah splashed her. “Well, you could have fooled me. You’re still a total fish.”

Grace laughed, splashing back at her. For a moment, the weight of the previous day’s events seemed to lift from her shoulders as she lost herself in the simple joy of being with her friends doing something she loved.

After a few more laps, Bree hoisted herself out of the pool and headed for the hot tub. She dipped her toe in and groaned with satisfaction. “Oh, yes. This is happening.”

Hannah followed with the same routine. “You weren’t kidding—this is perfect.”

Grace joined them a moment later, sliding into the bubbling water with a sigh. The women leaned back, letting the heat soak in.

“Oh god, look who just came out of the sauna,” said Hannah, her nose wrinkling.

Bree turned to see. “Ugh, it’s that creep again.”

Hannah started to rise from the water. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

But Grace reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her. “No, wait,” she said. “Let’s stay. We were here first. He can’t make us leave.”

Hannah and Bree exchanged a puzzled glance but sank back into the waving water, watching as the man approached.

He stepped into the hot tub, letting out a grunt as he lowered himself into the steaming water across from the girls. His eyes swept over each of them before settling on Grace. Leaning back, he spread his arms along the edge of the tub. “So, what are three beautiful young ladies doing here?”

“Just a girls’ night out,” Bree replied, sinking deeper into the water.

“Where are you ladies from?”

“We’re local, the suburbs,” said Hannah, giving him a tight smile.

“What about you, sir?” Grace asked. “What are you in town for?”

The man’s face brightened. “I’m from D.C., in town to meet with a local biotech company.”

“Really? What do you do?” Grace inquired, tilting her head.

“I’m with the NIH. Just here to discuss some funding options for this new biotech company.”

“What kind of biotech is it?” asked Grace, her voice lifting. “Does it have anything to do with nanotechnology?”

As the conversation continued, Hannah and Bree exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and disbelief. Grace, who had been uncomfortable in the man’s presence earlier, was now chatting with him like he was an old acquaintance.

The creepy man stood, water cascading down his plump tummy. “Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ll bring my business card for you.”

Once he was gone, Hannah turned to Grace. “What the hell just happened? Since when do you chat up creepy old men?”

Grace tilted her head back against the edge of the tub, a faint smile playing on her face. “I don’t want to miss any networking opportunities, that’s all.”

Bree let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Networking? Grace, an hour ago you were ready to sprint out of the Ritz fucking Carlton to get away from Mr. Creepy!”

“Who, by the way, definitely has an Asian fetish,” Hannah added, her fingers cutting lazy arcs through the water. “I was sure he was going to whip his schlong out and jerk off in front of us.”

Grace flinched at the mental image. “Look, I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s smarter to work with who men are instead of avoiding them. It’s easier to engage on my terms than let them control the situation.”

“So, what? We just give them what they want?” Bree asked, turning to glare at the pool-boy, who quickly resumed sweeping the floor.

“You already do, Bree,” Hannah teased, sending a splash of water in her direction.

“I do not!” Bree laughed, ducking under the water. She popped back up, wiping her face. “Okay, fine. I’ll give them a glimpse here, a touch there. Nothing more—unless he’s buying me a Maserati,” she said, sending the girls into a fit of laughter.

“But seriously,” Grace continued, “it makes sense, doesn’t it? Letting them be who they are…”

“Instead of telling them to fuck off?” Hannah interjected.

“Yeah, or avoiding them altogether,” Grace said. “Antagonizing guys or pretending they don’t exist just escalates things. It’s a waste of energy.”

Hannah and Bree exchanged a glance as Grace continued. “Like, remember that time at the coffee shop where they had that sign? ‘It’s okay to stare at an employee’s ass, just be discreet about it.’”

“Yeah, I remember,” Bree said, winking at a twelve-year-old boy who proceeded to fall out of his float.

“And when you asked the barista how she felt about it,” Grace added, turning to Hannah. “She told us she liked working there because she never got harassed, unlike other places she’s worked at.“

“Alright, but where’s the line?” Hannah asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “How far do you let it go before it’s just… gross and degrading?”

Grace tilted her head. “It depends on the situation. If it’s harmless, why not let them think they’re in control when they’re not? It’s like playing a card game. Keep your cards close.”

Bree rolled her eyes, pulling the straps of her bikini snug against her shoulders. “Most of these guys don’t even know how to play Uno,” she said, eliciting another round of laughter.

“Okay, but what if it isn’t harmless?” Hannah asked, her tone sharpening. “What if Mr. Creeper started jerking off or reaching over to touch us? Do you just smile and nod then too?”

“No, we leave, Grace replied. “But most of the time, it doesn’t have to get there. You can steer things before they go too far.”

“And if they still go too far?” Hannah pressed.

Grace hesitated, her legs floating up to the bubbling surface. “Then… then it would’ve happened anyway. But I think this strategy works in most cases.”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Hannah said, “it still sounds like a pain in the ass. I’d rather tell them to fuck off and move on.”

“And if they don’t let you move on?” Bree asked, raising an eyebrow at a man staring at her from across the pool while his kids splashed around him.

“Then you teach these fuckers a lesson they’ll never forget,” Hannah said with a bright, unapologetic smile, finishing Bree’s thought.

“Or will never get up to remember,” Bree added, arching her back and lifting her chest out of the water before settling back in with a smirk.

Hannah glanced over her shoulder and froze. “Well, look who’s back—Creeper McCreeperson, in the flesh.”

The man approached the tub, holding a business card between two fingers. “Here you go, young lady,” he said, extending the card toward Grace.

The man approached the tub, holding a business card between two fingers. “Here you go, young lady,” he said, extending the card toward Grace.

Grace climbed out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around herself as she stepped forward to take the card. “Thank you,” she said, glancing at the name. “Dr. Pritzker.” She extended her hand. “I’m Grace Nguyen. Pleased to meet you.”

“And it’s been a pleasure to meet you, Grace,” he said, shaking her hand. “Don’t hesitate to send me an email if you’re ever looking for an internship—I’ve got biotech connections all over the country.”

“I will,” Grace said, watching his eyes drift over her chest. “I’ll send a resume to you by Sunday evening.”

“Looking forward to reading it, Grace.”

Finished with his assessment, the man turned to the others. “You lovely ladies enjoy the rest of your getaway—and stay out of trouble,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks,” said Bree with a tight smile, stepping out of the tub.

“Oh, we’ll try,” said Hannah, following Bree.

Bree gave Grace a playful nudge on the shoulder as she dried herself. “Well, Grace, I guess we’re calling you the schmoozing networking queen from now on.”

Hannah smirked as she wrung out her hair. “Honestly, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you to handle a guy like that so smoothly.”

Grace smiled as she studied the card in her hand. “Sometimes, you just have to take the opportunity when it comes.”

“Speaking of opportunities,” Bree said, tossing her towel into a bin, “let’s not miss the chance to do some shopping in Buckhead.”

“And get Grace all dolled up for her first prom dance!” Hannah said, putting her arms around Grace, pulling her close.

“Hey, let’s all get dolled up for tonight, yeah?,” Bree said, jumping up and down. “Like our pre-prom night out!”

“Sure, I’m up for it,” Grace said, securing the bathrobe around her body. “I really want to try out The Ambassador’s Lounge. We can show off there.”