"Emilie, your job is to make sure a warm body is in each bed."
"Let's be realistic, Tom," Emilie Woodward pleaded with her unsmiling boss. "This is Flamingo Beach, not Las Vegas. Give me time to get us there."
"Eighty five percent occupancy. I'll take nothing less."
"Sixty five percent," Emilie shot back, "And that's a stretch goal. It's a brand new resort, and the first of its kind to be built in a town known for motels. We have to build our reputation. That's not going to happen on my minuscule advertising budget."
"Seventy five percent and that's that, or else."
"Or else what?"
Emilie placed her hands on her slender hips and blew a lock of flaming red hair out of her eyes. Not one to back down, those green eyes flashed a challenge.
Tom Burke, senior vice president of sales and marketing, stared back. His eyes looked like huge road maps either from lack of sleep or one too many martinis. A little of both Emilie suspected.
"We'll both get canned, ...
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