Excerpt Reveal: Manwhore +1 by Katy Evans

MANWHORE + 1  by Katy Evans

EXCERPT

FOUR WEEKS

I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding up to the executive floor on my own.

Toward him.

          Toward the man I love.

          My body is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor.

         Stepping out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass, marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room.

          Framing those doors to each side is a pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four.

          Behind these desks are four women in identical default-and-default suits, sitting behind their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen computers.

          One of them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her desk and murmurs my name into it.

          I. Am. Not. Breathing.

          But Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man in Chicago.

          The human being with the most powerful effect on me.

          This is what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand others that I left unsent. To see him.

          For him to want to see me.

          But as I force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did.

          I’m wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but bright, even as I shake like a leaf.

          Catherine holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his office.

           Two steps inside I hear the swoosh of the glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the most beautiful office I’ve ever been in.

          His office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless floor-to-ceiling windows.

          And there he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world.

          He’s pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches …

          He hangs up, and as if he feels me in the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes.

          His achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes.

          He inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his sides as he looks at me.

          I look back at him.

          Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint.

          I just walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A hurricane.

          Four weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger than life, and more irresistible than ever.

          His striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly full I can almost feel them against mine. Six-feet-plus of perfectly controlled male power stand before me, in a perfect default suit and a killer tie. He’s the very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those penetrating eyes.

          He’s got the best eyes.

          They twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about his thoughts.

          But I had forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards.

          He clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside.

          He looks as approachable as a wall, his shoulders stretching his default shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie. But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like this.

          He’s walking towards me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his.

          He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.

For every sin there is a sinner!

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Blurb

The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE continues heating up the pages in MANWHORE +1 by New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans...

Billionaire playboy? Check.

Ruthless businessman? Check.

Absolutely sinful? Check.

Malcolm Saint was an assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a racy exposé.

I intended to reveal him, his secrets, his lifestyle--not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I fell hard.

Malcolm Saint is absolute Sin, and I've become a hopeless Sinner.

Now that the assignment is over, Saint wants something from me--something unexpected--and I want this wicked playboy's heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that I'm worthy of becoming his plus one?

Manwhore (Book One)

Now Available

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About the Author:

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Website: www.katyevans.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatyEvans

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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com

Cover Reveal: Bellissimo Fortuna by Leigh Ann Lunsgord

Title: Bellissimo Fortuna

Author: Leigh Ann Lunsford

Cover Design: Kristen Karwan

 Release Date: July 15, 2015

Blurb

Fierce, good-looking, loyal, son of a crime boss, Bronson Agosto is what every girl dreams of. Devoted to one girl and willing do everything in his power to ensure her safety.

Beautiful, trusting, damaged, daughter of the underboss, Callie Locati has Bronson’s heart. She gave herself to him when they were kids and will sacrifice all she is to protect him.

Divided by the greed of one of the most trusted members of the familia, a father’s sins, and secrets kept, they struggle to overcome the obstacles life has thrown their way. Is their bond strong enough to conquer the forces trying to keep them apart? Is a father’s betrayal more than their love can survive? Will the family secrets ruin them or will their devotion stand the test of time?

ADD TO GOODREADS

Excerpt

Despair and indecision linger around us, filling up the church. It’s weaving its way between each and every one of us; the loyalty that was once aligned with my family is now going to be called into question, the uncertainty of what will happen to the former soldiers and associates that worked for my father will be called into question and decisions will have to be made. The man responsible was never relieved of his duties as second in command and these men mourning my father’s demise aren’t in a position to question whatever orders they are given, not unless they want to meet the same detriment my father did. Frank Locati will seek to destroy everything my father built, he will challenge these men’s loyalties, harm the ones he doesn’t deem worthy.


As I watch the casket being lowered into the grave, surrounded by loved ones, enemies, and friends a decision is made. Today, I decide, retribution will be mine. The difference between my retribution and theirs is that the justice system will take care of mine. It may not come swiftly, or as brutally and messy as they deliver, but it will come.

Author Bio

Leigh Ann Lunsford is a stay at home mom turned author. She writes Romance/New Adult and loves her happily ever after in all books and movies. She lives with her husband, son, and four dogs in Fleming Island, Florida. When she isn’t writing or reading you can find her stuck in front of really bad reality shows or watching Sons of Anarchy. Leigh Ann has a filthy mouth and a huge amount of sarcasm that knows no end. She hopes to give the voices in her head an outlet with many more novels to come.

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BOOK TOUR : KING BY T.M. FRAZIER

KING. IS. HERE!

NOW AVAILABLE

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Blurb

Homeless, hungry and desperate enough to steal, Doe has no memories of who she is or where she comes from.

A notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in blood, sweat, pu$$y or a combination of all three.

King’s future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes in order to hold on, you have to first let go.

Warning: This book contains graphic violence, consensual and nonconsensual sex, drug use, abuse, and other taboo subjects and adult subject matter. Although originally slated to be a standalone, KING is now a two part series.

Excerpt

King

Tattooing Doe was the single most erotic moment of my life. Marking her perfect, pale skin with a tattoo I'd designed for her made me so fucking hard I had to adjust myself every thirty seconds in order to concentrate on my work.

When I was done, I handed her the hand mirror, and she walked over to the full-sized mirror that hung on the back of the door, like she'd seen dozens of my other clients do before. When she held up the hand mirror, she gasped.

But I couldn't help myself. My name needed to be on her. It wasn’t enough just to call her mine. I needed to mark her as well. So hidden in the vine work under the quote I found that I thought was perfect for her, was my name.

"What?" I asked in a panic, hoping she didn't already see what I'd hidden in the tattoo. I was an asshole for putting it there. I was an asshole for tattooing her in the first place.

I was just an asshole. KING was woven into the design. In order to see it you had to tilt your head or otherwise you wouldn't notice it. But it was there.

She didn't notice the name. Tears filled her eyes. She stood there staring at the hand mirror in just her panties. Little cheeky ones where her ass hung out of the bottoms. Her tits were only inches from my face. Her tears of happiness made my dick twitch. Although her sad tears evoked the same response.

I would tell her eventually of course, but I wanted it to be my secret for a while. She'd stopped being my possession a while ago, a lot longer before I cared to admit, but I still felt the need to mark her as mine. I still liked the idea of owning her. Only now, she owned me, too. My dick wasn't partial to which kind of tears he liked. I took the mirror from her hand and lifted her up onto the counter. "You like it?" I asked, pushing her panties down her legs.

"Shut the fuck up."

"I love it," she panted, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me close. Her wetness soaking my boxers. I pushed them down with one hand. I'd been hard for three hours, the entire time I’d been working on her, and couldn't wait any longer. I pushed inside her tight, wet heat. We both moaned at the contact. "You love it?" I asked, needing to hear her say it again. "Yes, I love it!" she said as I thrust up into her, hard. "I love it. So much. I love you." I froze when I heard the words, and when I did, her eyes flung open. "I didn't mean—" "Oh my god, I have that word vomit thing. I’m sorry. Shit, I just meant that—"

"Shut up," I said again, and she closed her mouth. "Shut up so I can fuck you…and show you how much I love you."

"Shut the fuck up!" I demanded, thrusting hard to get her attention. She closed her eyes, and her head fell back. "That's fucking better. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while I fuck you." "Okay," she whispered, breathless.

She nodded and although her eyes stayed shut, a tear rolled down her cheek. I sucked it off her chin before it could fall to the floor.

I showed her how much I loved her until I couldn't tell where I started and she began. Until all that was in that room was me and her and the thing between us that kept pulling us together like magnets. Until we were lost in sensations and orgasms.

Then, I fucked her. Hard.

And in each other.

I fucked her until we were one person, and in a way we were, because I'd lost myself along the way and I found myself again in the most unlikely place.

I'd found myself again in the haunted eyes of a girl who was just as lost as I was.

Or , maybe we didn't find each other at all.

Maybe, we just decided to be lost together. 

About the Author:

T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three feisty fur kids.

She attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.

In the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.

It only took her twenty years to start the next one.

It will not be about hamsters.

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.

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