Lost in Between by KL Kreig is coming February 20th!
Keep reading for an excerpt!
Book Description:
We all have one.
A price.
That magic number that will get us to agree to do anything, be anything.
Don’t sit on your gold-plated high horse and say you don’t because you do. Everyone does. Each of us has something we covet enough that we’d sell ourselves to have it.
What’s my tipping point, you ask? Apparently a cool quarter mil will do the trick.
What does one do for 250 large, you wonder? Anything the infamous, gorgeous playboy of Seattle wants. For the next four months I’ll be Shaw Mercer’s arm candy, his beck and call girl, his faux girlfriend. I’ll be his to command, mold, push and pull in any direction he sees fit.
I’ll fight falling into bed with him. I’ll fight falling in love with him even harder. I’ll fail at both. And when my past and present collide in the most unexpected of ways, I’ll learn that while one man’s love for me has never died, the only man’s love I really want will never be mine.
*If dirty-talking, dominant alphas are not your thing, move along. Mature, 18+ only. Book 1 in a 2-part duet.
Excerpt:
As long as Noah and I have
known one another and as close as we are, he’s far from an open book. He holds
some of life’s secrets so close to the vest, he’ll likely take them to his
grave. So how he knows Ms. Randi Deveraux of La Dolce Vita is still a mystery
he won’t divulge.
When he told me his plan and
showed me the picture of the woman who’d play my love interest for the next
several months, I was immediately drawn to the her, but it took me a few
seconds to realize why.
It was her.
My spicy little Goldilocks.
The one I haven’t heard from.
The one I haven’t been able to
get out of my fucking head for the past eight days.
The one my cock involuntarily
gets hard for in the dark of night.
The glossy-colored print I
stared at for long minutes was a complete contradiction to the fiery woman I’d
met.
On paper her exterior was
flawless. Not one sculpted eyebrow out of place. Striking blue eyes rimmed with
the right amount of shadow, liner, and mascara that made them alluring but not
slutty. Pouty lips painted a deep shade of maroon, lined impeccably so the
stain didn’t seep, then glossed enough in the middle to draw your attention to
their fullness. Hair curled into loose ribbons that fell over her shoulders and
down her slim back.
But while the outside was
practiced perfection, the inside screamed dead. Not damaged, not broken or bruised,
but lifeless. This beautiful creature went through the motions. She moved
through life without living. I don’t know how I saw it, or why, but I know it
wasn’t a product of my overactive imagination. This woman’s pain was rooted
deep but she put on an award-winning façade that told the outside world
otherwise.
I saw the same thing when I
stared into her fierce eyes under the cover of my sunglasses days ago, but I
also saw something else. Smoking embers buried under piles of ash. God help me,
but for some reason I want to be the man who stokes those smoldering cinders
until they spark into a burning inferno, bringing her roaring back to life.
Standing before her now, I’ve
no doubt I’m the igniter, the single match needed to wake her from the living
dead.
“Summer, is it?” I close the
door behind me and move to the couch, gesturing for her to sit.
She doesn’t. She just blinks
rapidly like she’s seeing a ghost. That makes me smile for some reason.
I know the name she’s using is
fake. I hate it. Not the name, per se, but the fact that I don’t know her real
one. I told Ms. Deveraux my circumstances and my concern around using a fake
name. The press will eventually find out and it’s best if we’re up front in the
beginning rather than if they dig, thinking we’re hiding something. That would
be disastrous. She agreed but told me the decision was up to Summer. If she
agreed to my terms, I could plead my case. If not, then her anonymity was still
protected.
“You don’t look like a
Summer,” I say casually as I take a seat and cross my legs.
Although in a way she does.
She’s hot and sultry and I’ve no doubt she’s nice and moist in the place I’m
dying to drive my cock. Jesus, she is absolutely mouthwatering. And she has the
sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking
about her.
She crosses her arms and cocks
a hip in irritation. “Is that so? What do I look like then?”
Mine.
Why that disturbing word pops
into my head, I haven’t a clue. She is
yours temporarily, though. If she agrees.
“How is your neck by the way?”
That seems to catch her off
guard because her cocky bravado falters. “Uh…fine. It’s fine.” She
unconsciously reaches up to palm it. My fingers itch, wishing they were on her
skin instead. I still remember the electricity that ran down my arm when I
touched her before. It set my cock on fire and it hasn’t stopped burning since.
“You’re lucky, you know. I could be wearing a neck brace right now and be
lawyered up.”
“And you’d still be just as
beautiful.” I ignore the lawyer comment. I know it’s just a dig. When she
blushes and looks away, my grin gets wider and I allow myself a few seconds to
absorb her, head to toe. I find myself zeroing in on that tiny diamond stud in
her nose, now catching the light. I first noticed it when she pounded on the
window of my Rover calling me names. I generally find them childish, yet on
her, I find myself incredibly turned on by it.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” On my lap would be preferable.
Defiant eyes snap back to
mine. “Hit and run anyone else lately?”
“Hit and run?” I chuckle. “I
didn’t hit and run you. I took accountability.”
“Yeah. After I dumped car
parts into your lap, it was pretty hard to deny it any longer.”
Hell. This woman is full of
restrained passion. She just needs someone to help her unleash it in a very
controlled manner.
“Why haven’t you called about
your car? Change your mind on whose fault it was?” I’m goading her, but Hot. Damn.
The sparks firing from her are overly addictive.
“Oh, it was your fault, all
right,” she snaps. “And I’ve been…busy.”
“Yes, I can imagine you have a
very full schedule.” I sound more sarcastic than I intend, but the thought of
her with other men makes me feel exactly the way I felt when I thought of Noah
with her.
Her lips thin. She’s madder
than a hornet. I’m harder than a two by four.
“Why are you here, Drive By?”
Drive By? I laugh at her feisty spirit. God, I want to kiss
her. Feel her tongue sparring eagerly with mine. See if she tastes of rage and
raw energy.
“I was under the impression
you were agreeable to meeting with me.”
When Noah set this up, I
insisted on three things.
One: it take place in Ms.
Deveraux’s private home with her alone. There’s no way in hell I will be caught
on film coming and going from her “business.”
Two: I meet with Ms. Deveraux
in advance and work through the contractual details to my satisfaction. Let’s
just say I now feel comfortable we have a mutual interest in keeping this
arrangement buried deep.
And three: I be allowed to
personally meet with “Summer” before she signs the contract. Surprisingly, that
was the toughest piece to negotiate. Seems Ms. Deveraux is very protective of
her, or maybe she’s that way with all of her employees.
Everything I have done to
secure her has deviated from Ms. Deveraux’s normal course of business, but this
situation is far from normal. It’s reckless at worst. Precarious at best.
“How did you find me?”
Sheer, dumb luck.
“I’m very resourceful.”
Her forehead creases. “This is
a mistake.”
She turns to leave and I
panic. True blistering panic sears through me at the thought she’s about to
walk through that door and I may never see her again. I don’t know her real
name. I don’t know how to contact her and if this meeting goes south, I know I won’t
get anything further about her from Randi Deveraux. If she walks out on me now,
I highly doubt she’ll give me the time of day when she finally does call Dane
about her car.
I don’t know why I care that I
spend the next few months with her and only her so damn much. I just do.
“Wait,” I plead.
She stops but doesn’t turn. I
have no idea what possesses me, but I close the distance between us until I’m a
whisper away. Our body heat plays off each other, growing hotter by the second.
“You haven’t even listened to
my proposal,” I say against her ear.
Her breath kicks up. Good.
She’s not unaffected by me, and that will play into my hand nicely.
“You can get someone else,”
she replies softly, without conviction.
Drawing her long hair off her
shoulder, I let my finger feather across her bare flesh. It’s soft and silky.
She shivers. I suppress a moan. Fuck, I want her so much. It makes no sense.
“I don’t want anyone else,” I
tell her truthfully, keeping my voice low.
“Why?” she breathes.
I don’t know why. I have no
idea what it is about her that draws me in. I wish I did. I need to stop it. I
should end this right now—look at a dozen other pictures and pick a woman whose
very presence doesn’t twist me into knots and make me have thoughts I’ve never
had before. Thoughts that make me uncomfortable. It’s unnerving.
But, fuck me. I can’t. There
is just something different about this woman and I won’t rest until I find out
what it is.
“Have a seat. Just hear me
out. Please,” I tack on sincerely.
She stands motionless and I
wonder what her next move will be. My hands curl into fists as I restrain
myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her to my house. I think
she could benefit greatly from a hard hand and a red ass. I have a feeling she
might even enjoy it.
When she floats effortlessly
to one of the velvet-covered chairs, I release a veiled breath. Picking up the
contract from the edge of Ms. Deveraux’s desk, I make myself comfortable across
from her and place the paperwork on the table separating us. Her eyes drop to
it but she makes no move to pick it up.
“So what’s your proposal, Mr.
Knowles?”
“Mr. Knowles?”
“That’s your name, right? Dane
Knowles. Wildemer & Company?”
Amused, I rest my elbows on my
knees and grin at her. “No. Dane is my assistant. I told you to call him and
he’d take care of the damage to your death box.”
“Death box?” She sounds
offended.
“Do you know what the safety
rating is on that little tin can you drive?” When she opens her mouth to
respond, I talk over her. “Five point seven out of ten. You’re basically
driving around in your own steel coffin.”
I expect a hot retort or for
her to leave in a huff. What I don’t expect is a genuine, breathtaking smile
that lights up her face like summer and makes my cock knock uncomfortably on my
zipper in a futile attempt to reach her. My God, she’s trying to kill me
already.
“Are you a walking Kelly Blue
Book of safety ratings, Mr.…?”
“I have a vast array of
useless Trivial Pursuit knowledge up here,” I retort with a smirk, finger
pointing to my temple. I’ll never admit that I looked it up after our little
accident. She could be seriously hurt in that ridiculous miniature box on
wheels that somehow passes for a fucking car. Hell, had I hit her any harder,
she would be in the hospital. “And I’m Shaw. Shaw Mercer.”
“Shaw Mercer,” she repeats
slowly like she’s tasting my name for the first time. Savoring every consonant
and every vowel. Fuck. I sit back and cross one leg over the other to hide my
rock-hard erection.
“Any relation to Preston
Mercer?”
I nod, impressed that she tied
me back to my father instead of referring to me as one of Seattle’s most
eligible bachelors. She’s intelligent and up on politics. I like that.
Immensely. If you ask three-fourths of the residents of Seattle, they wouldn’t
be able to tell you how many branches of government there are, something that’s
taught in middle school, let alone who the mayor of Seattle is.
“So why is the mayor’s son…here?”
Her eyes are locked on mine,
waiting on an answer.
When she swallows I follow the
delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that peek out from
the light pink strapless flowing dress she’s wearing like a fucking Greek
goddess. One flick of my finger and I could find out the color of her areolas
and the size of her nipples before I draw one into my mouth for a sample. My
mouth waters at the thought.
The conversation that Ms.
Deveraux and I had earlier about expectations sits hard in the pit of my
stomach. On one hand, I was relieved to get confirmation she doesn’t sell
herself, only her “time,” but now that I’m sitting here in front of her, I
won’t rest until she lets me explore every square inch of not only her perfect
body, but her complex mind. I want to know her like no one else has.
When our gazes connect again
I’m sure mine is full of unmistakable heat. Hers definitely is.
She clears her throat and
straightens her back. “I think you have the wrong idea about what it is I do.”
“I don’t,” I state plainly.
“I don’t sleep with my
clients, Mr. Mercer.”
Oh, but you will. We both know our ingredients
are explosive.
“Women would pay to have sex
with me, not the other way around.”
She huffs a laugh as a wry
look crosses her face. “Then what is it you need if not a good fuck?”
I chuckle and when I lean
forward she straightens her spine. I love that even the simplest of movements I
make in her direction affect her, just like she does to me. “Is that what I’ll
be missing with you? A good fuck?” I won’t be missing a damn thing. She will be
mine in every conceivable way. I know it and so does she.
“Not just good. Life
altering,” she banters smoothly.
Now it’s my turn to smile
slowly. What I wouldn’t give to throw her up against the wall and show her just
what a life-altering fuck really is. For what seems like forever we stare at
each other in some sort of weird silent challenge where we’re waiting to see
what move the other will make.
Shaking myself out of her
spell, I pick up the papers and hand them to her.
“What’s this?”
“Your employment contract.”
“All the paperwork is handled
through Randi.”
“I want a little extra
insurance.”
She quickly flips through the
five-page document before lifting her eyes. “Nondisclosure agreement? This is
sounding very fifty shades-ish. And just so you know, if I find any mention of
hard limits or safe words, that’s a deal breaker.”
I can’t help but laugh loudly.
“I’m not kidding,” she says,
her voice stern.
“Trust me, Goldilocks, if I
could have gotten that past your warrior she-devil, I would have.”
Her eyes narrow, but I see a
little twitch at the corner of her mouth so I forge ahead, making a mental note
to invest in handcuffs and a flogger. Or six.
“The duration is for
approximately the next four months. Ten hours a week, maybe more, maybe less,
depending on my schedule. You may be required to travel and you will be
available at all times when I need you, day or night. You will attend social
events, fundraisers, business dinners, and family functions. You will be
photographed and it’s only fair to warn you, you will likely be hounded by the
press but I’ll try to shield you as much as possible.”
She regards me quietly. I wish
I could tell what’s spinning around in that pretty little head of hers. A
corner of my mouth tips when she says, “Reelection is just around the corner.”
Not a question and I don’t
answer, but score another point for her.
For not the first time I
wonder if this little plan of Noah’s will backfire, taking us all down in a
curl of hot flames. She figured out what I was doing within two minutes. Lianna
would be a far safer, more believable choice. But there’s also an undeniable,
powerfully charged connection between us that will be hard for people to
refute.
“And what is my role,
specifically?”
Deciding I don’t care if this
entire thing blows up in my face because that means I won’t get what I
want—which is her—I stand and step around the table, holding out my hand.
When she tentatively sets hers
in mine, I help her up and wrap one arm around her waist.
Pulling her close, I relish in
the hitch of her breath. Cupping her cheek, I savor the baby-fine skin under
the pad of my thumb. I take a deep breath, drinking in her delicately floral
scent. She’s intoxicating and my head is already spinning.
“What are you doing?” she
whispers, her small hands going to my chest.
Dipping my head, I trail my
nose along her jaw, stopping so my lips brush her ear. “Making sure we have
chemistry.”
She mutters a curse under her
breath I know I’m not meant to hear before stuttering, “Wh…why?”
Fuck, if she only knew the
dirty things running through my head right now.
“Because, my wide-eyed little
pretty, you’re going to play my new love interest. My girlfriend. My serious girlfriend.” I emphasize the
word so she understands what she’s getting herself into. I won’t pay her to be
in my bed but that doesn’t mean she won’t end up there anyway.
“I…I haven’t agreed to
anything yet.” Her breathlessness is testing me and she’s only about half an
inch away from finding out exactly how much.
Walking into this meeting, I
had already agreed to what I thought was a generous offer with her boss, madam,
keeper, whatever she’s called. But after the last fifteen minutes, I’ve decided
I will pay whatever it takes to have her. To own her. I think I would give away
my own soul.
Framing her face with both
hands now, I lean in until my mouth is a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes fall
to my lips. I feel her wariness, but I also feel her hunger. She parts her lips
and I watch with a deep ache in my groin as her tongue darts out to moisten
them in anticipation of my kiss.
I restrain from slamming my
mouth to hers, taking what I want. What she wants me to take, regardless of how
she’s trying to refute me.
“But you will. Everyone has a
price, Summer. What’s yours?”
About the Author:
As a USA Today Bestselling author, I write stories that are deeply emotional with flawed characters, because humans ARE flawed and if we read about perfect characters living in their perfect world, first of all, snoozer, but secondly, we never experience the gratification of redemption.
Outside of writing, I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicous cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
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