Book Description:
Love is selfish...
My name is Blaire.
I'm the bad girl.
The other woman.
The one who never gets the guy in the end.
I'm the gold digger.
The bitch.
The one no one roots for.
The one you love to hate.
I hate myself too...
Everyone has a story. Are you ready for mine?
Find it on Goodreads here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21536151-easy-virtue
Excerpt:
With champagne and caviar inundating my every sense, I slither through the light wooden floors of the Lila Acheson Wallace Wing in The Met. As I walk, I pretend to admire the expensive jewelry being showcased tonight by a famous designer whose name I can’t remember. A multicolored diamond butterfly sparkles to my left and a cobra made out of black stones glistens to my right. Rows upon rows of precious gems twinkle under the soft lights of the room, flooding the space between the walls with the glow of a thousand stars. Furtive glances. Secrets gossiped. Beauty criticized. Lofty music fills the atmosphere as the über rich mingle and pretend to like each other, yet you can almost taste their conceit and derision for one another in the air.
This is Walker’s world, and I love it.
Standing across the room, where the crowd is thinner and the music fainter, I spot Walker’s blond head in the corner of the room, talking to a group of his colleagues and their wives. He looks polished and worth every penny of his trust fund in his sleek black tuxedo, perfectly starched white shirt and black bowtie. His long golden hair parted to the side shines like the sun. He is truly flawless.
I smile because it’s hard to picture that this is the same guy who likes to snort coke off my tits as he fucks me while hardcore porn plays in the background. He looks untouchable and so cool, but his searching eyes, scanning the crowd for me give him up. He’s wondering where I am. He did tell me not to go too far, after all. Soon after we arrived at the party, I gave him some space to talk to his friends and do his thing while I did mine. I hate clingy people, so I avoid being one.
I grab a third flute of champagne from a passing waiter, and try to decide which of the different displays to check out first when my eyes land on a spectacular piece of jewelry. On a bed of black silk, similar to my hair color, lies an extravagant necklace made of diamonds and rubies—a small heaven within one’s reach as long as you can afford the price.
I bridge the space between the glass protecting the necklace and me until it’s within my reach, fighting the urge to touch the cool surface. As if under a spell, I observe how the rows of diamonds embedded in platinum form leaves and thorns. At its center is a rose made out of red diamonds almost as big as my palm.
I feel someone walk up and stand next to me, but I don’t give him or her a second thought as I continue to admire the way the light hits the gems, making them shine.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
His voice is smooth and commanding, dripping absolute power. I keep my eyes locked on the display. Call it sixth sense, but somehow I know that under no circumstance should I make eye contact with the stranger who speaks like the ruler of the world.
“Yes,” I say simply.
“I wonder how much it is?” the man asks.
“I don’t think it matters … I highly doubt anyone can afford it.”
He chuckles, and the sound is more delicious than his voice. Lusher. “Oh, but I can.”
I smile at his self-assurance. I love cocky assholes. “I still doubt it.”
“You shouldn’t. I only speak the truth,” he retorts coolly. His voice is nonchalant yet his words leave no room for disbelief—a demand and a statement all in one.
Suddenly, the noises of the room become distant. People talking and laughing amongst friends and the orchestra playing all fade away until all I hear is him speaking.
And at this moment, that is all that matters.
“The truth is very subjective, sir.”
“The truth may be subjective but money isn’t. Money can buy anything.”
His answer is like an electroshock, jumpstarting my brain from a champagne-induced haze. My pulse begins to accelerate, excitement making it hard to take a deep breath. Don’t look at him … don’t.
“Oh really,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He’s right, though.
“Of course. I believe everything,” he pauses, “and everyone has a price.”
Curiosity winning the battle against curiosity, I turn to face him, and what a fucking big mistake that is. When our eyes meet, I feel incapacitated of all sense and movement. The sight of him takes my breath away. This man gives the term “lust at first sight” a whole new meaning.
In my short twenty-three years, I’ve been with extremely handsome men, perfect even, but to classify the man standing next to me in any kind of category would be a disservice to him, and not really fair to the others. Longish, light brown hair wildly framing his face, vacant eyes the color of dollar bills, a slightly crooked nose, and a mouth that begs to be buried deep within your thighs. His beauty is as harsh as it is stunningly perfect. Dressed in a simple black tuxedo and unbuttoned white shirt, the man exudes innate virility and grace, reminding me of a black panther stalking his prey. And just like a panther, it’s the pure raw and powerful energy emanating from within him that I find most attractive. Because just by standing next to him, I get the sense that his word is always the last spoken and his wishes the first ones to be fulfilled. He doesn’t ask, he demands. He doesn’t hope, he expects.
He’s quiet for a moment; his uncanny eyes hold me captive as though they are baring my soul to him and I hate it. I tighten my hold on the crystal flute. I want to look away, but I can’t. The way he’s staring at me makes me want to squirm.
“I wonder … do you have one?” he asks softly before turning to examine the piece of jewelry once more.
“A what?” I ask, momentarily stunned.
He smiles. “A price.”
“For the right amount … I just might,” I say quietly, my heart beating so fast it feels as though it wants out of my chest. As soon as the words leave my mouth, there’s no shock coursing down my body, no rolling waves of shame pulling me down for having said that to a complete stranger—nothing.
And why should there be? I am who I am.
I’m staring at his profile, waiting for him to acknowledge my answer, when a breeze of cool air floats past us, making me shiver. About to chase the goose bumps on my arm with my hand, I watch as he slowly turns to look at me, catching me staring at him. Time stands still as I watch him raise his large tanned hand and touch my bare shoulder, his fingertips lightly grazing the temporary small bumps covering it. Then he smiles as if he knows that my skin is tingling from his scalding touch, and looks away.
“I thought so.”
We remain standing next to each other for another minute or so, the distance between us almost nonexistent. It would be so easy to reach out and hold his hand. The sound of an incoming call breaks the silence, bringing us back to reality.
He takes his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and ignores the call after noting the name of the caller. He lifts his gaze to meet my own.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I should go … I’m here with someone,” I reply, not really wanting to leave him just yet.
“Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”
I frown. He didn’t have to be quite so blunt. The stranger extends a hand toward me, holding something in his fingers.
“Here … ”
I open my hand as I feel the edges of what I assume is his business card poke the skin of my palm. “What’s this?” I ask stupidly.
“My business card, of course.”
“Obviously … but why?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say that I’m an interested buyer.”
And then he’s gone.
He turns and walks away from me, disappearing into a sea of colorful gowns and black suits. As the sounds of the party infiltrate my ears once more, I lower my gaze to stare at the simple cream-colored card in my hand. Its simplistic and elegant design draws attention to the name printed in bold black letters on the paper.
Lawrence Rothschild.
I smile and let my fingertips trail his name. It depends on what you’re willing to pay, Mr. Rothschild.
Published by Mia Asher
Copyright © 2013 by Mia Asher
Our Review:
**ARC received for honest review**
Reviewed by Donna ~ 5 Stars
“Love is selfish.
Love is unkind.
Love hurts.”
Holy smokes I loved this one!! I have to admit after Arsen I was apprehensive to start another Mia Asher book as I know she has the power to destroy me. This book is not at all what I was expecting, it was sooooo much more. You have a ballsy heroine whose honesty is jaw dropping at times but inside she is just a broken woman who has never felt loved or wanted. She uses her biggest weapon as a mask and utilises it to her best advantage...she is Blaire, she is a gold digger and she is fantastic.
“I don’t wallow.
I don’t cry.
I move on.
I forget.
I discard…or get discarded.
I’m a survivor.
I’m resilient.”
I will say there is NO cheating but once again Mia will tag team for your affections #teamRonan or #teamLawrence. Both have their pro's and con's but I have to say I am siding with #teamLawrence, I fear I may be in the minority with this one but there is something about Lawrence that has me intrigued, I feel that this could be a match made in heaven…or will it be hell?
One thing you can say about Mia Asher is to expect the unexpected, she has been extremely brave with Easy Virtue as Blaire is not really a loveable character, but then again, neither was Cathy in Arsen. I think she has something against the females because her males are always to die for!!
The difference between Blaire and Cathy though is, Blaire, I feel is very misunderstood. As I said above, she uses her biggest weapon to get the material things in life, to her, material things should make her happy, yet while they have a small impact at first, the happiness they bring soon whittles away to nothing. Having never felt loved or wanted Blaire just wants to be loved for who she is, not what her body makes her. She does get this opportunity yet she presses that self destruct button because for her, I feel, her gold digging ways are her security blanket. Having those initial feelings of being loved and cherished is alien to her and I felt that she feared it made her weak. Not wanting to go back to that unwanted and unloved feeling again, she would rather remove herself before she got too invested, before the pain could and would become unbearable. Thanks to her parents Blaire is extremely emotionally stunted.
“Love is dangerous. Love has the ability of breaking the unbreakable.”
Ronan, my heart broke for him, when he loves he loves hard despite the false bravado that he at first puts on. However, for me personally I felt that he was not a strong enough character for Blaire. Blaire needs a strong, alpha and for me she gets that with Lawrence, he accepts her for who she is, not who he wants her to be.
“Why me, Ronan?”
“Because when I look at you, I see everything I want and everything I need.”
Lawrence, as I said, I am team Lawrence but you never know that could change in the next book. I feel he is a better fit for Blaire but there is still so much we don’t know about him. He is that alpha male, billionaire, no ties, no strings and always gets what he wants but I think that he has met his match with Blaire.
“I hope you’re not delicate darling, because I’m going to fuck you until I break you.”
If I could write the second book I would have Lawrence showing that he has a propensity to love and fall in love with our Blaire and they would run off into the sunset with their HEA. However, this is Mia Asher we are talking about and I am sure that I am going to be put through the mill in Book 2. For Mia Asher the angst in this book wasn’t as high but this story has the possibility to debilitate you and I am sure that is coming.
This was an emotional rollercoaster at times. My heart broke for Blaire, I wanted to shake her at times and tell her to open her eyes and see what was right in front of her, but I feel that the damage was done a long time ago. As much as she has her dreams and aspirations she needs someone to break down those walls that she has built around herself before she can move on. I just hope one of them is strong enough.
“I grew up. I shed all my childish fantasies and finally understood how the real world worked. I learned that I could use my looks to get ahead. That values didn’t matter when passion and greed were involved. That money spoke louder than words, and that emotions were pointless.”
I can’t wait to see where this story is going and I will be 1clicking on release day for sure. Whose team will you be on? #team Ronan or #team Lawrence
Once again a fab read from Mia Asher, totally loved it.
“I'm selling my soul. And the sad part is... I don't care.”
Buy Links:
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1zbF7Us
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1A5kZ4v
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1rSEK0k
iTunes: http://bit.ly/1zO1Fsn
About the Author:
My name is Mia Asher.
I'm a writer, a hopeless romantic, a wanderer, a dreamer, a cynic, and a believer. And, oh yes…I might be a bit crazy - but who isn't?
Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Pinterest
Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Pinterest
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