Title: Uncovering You, Part One:The Contract (Uncovering You #1)
Author:Scarlett Edwards
Genre: Erotic Romance
Expected Release Date: March 27, 2014
Author:Scarlett Edwards
Genre: Erotic Romance
Expected Release Date: March 27, 2014
BLURB
When I wake up in a dark, unfamiliar room, I have no idea what's waiting for me in the shadows. My imagination conjures up demons of the worst kind.
Reality is much worse:
A collar with no leash. A prison with no walls. And a life stripped of meaning.
I am presented with a vile contract and asked to sign. It outlines the terms of my servitude. The only information I have about my captor are the two small letters inked at the bottom:
J.S.
Armed with only my memories, I must do everything I can to avoid becoming ensnared in his twisted mind games. But in the end, it all comes down to one choice:
Resist and die.
Or submit, and sign my life away.
EXCERPT
Meet Lilly
βLilly.β
Oh God. Itβs him. Thereβs no mistaking that rich, masculine treble.
Whatβs he doing down here?
βM-Mr. Stonehart,β I stutter, turning. I curse my inability to hide my
surprise. He totally caught me off-guard. I have to look up to meet his eyes.
Then up some more.
The face that I find is so striking it should belong to a Greek god.
Heβs younger than I expected. Late thirties, maybe early forties.
That means he started his company when he was younger than me!
Dark scruff lines his angular cheeks. His jet-black hair is styled in long,
natural waves. My fingers itch to run through it.
Totally inappropriate.
He has a prominent nose that might be too big on a less imposing man, but on
him, itβs perfect.
In short, heβs a package of the purest masculinity Iβve ever seen.
And then there are his eyes. Oh my God. His eyes. They pierce into me like
honing missiles. They are the deepest black I have ever seen. They would be
frightening if they werenβt so beautiful. When the light reflects a certain
way, you catch a glimpse of the purple underneath.
They are like midnight sapphires. His eyes reveal a cunning
intellect. Those eyes do not miss a thing.
Add all that to his towering height, his wide shoulders, his
confident-yet-at-ease posture⦠and Stonehart cuts an intimidating figure.
My gaze darts to his left hand before I can stop it. No ring. Heβs unmarried.
He looks down at me, expectantly. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I feel
like Iβm being dissected, measured up, and tucked away in some small corner of
his brain. I imagine this is what a gemstone feels like under the magnifying
class of the most critical appraiser.
Stonehart clears his throat. I come to with a start, realizing I havenβt said
anything in ages. I open my mouth, but the capacity for speech seems like a
foreign concept to my brain. βIββ
Somebody bumps into me from behind. I stagger forward. Iβm not used to these
shoes, so my heel steps the wrong way. My ankle twists under me, and I start to
fall.
I donβt fall far. The hand still on my elbow tightens, and Stonehart pulls me
into him.
I plaster myself onto the solid steel wall the man has for a body. I catch a
scent of his cologne. Itβs a deep, musky smell with a hint of charred spruce
that is all male. It scrambles my thoughts even more.
βSorry!β a rushed voice calls out. From the corner of my eye, I see the postman
giving a hurried, apologetic wave.
Although the sequence lasts less than a second, it feels like an eternity.
Pressed up against him like that, I donβt want to move. I know
that I couldnβt have made a worse first impression.
Stonehart eases me off him with a firm yet gentle grip. Our eyes meet. I flush
the most vibrant red. His fingers graze my forehead as he brushes a lock of
hair out of my face.
Any tenderness I may have imagined vanishes when Stonehart takes out his cell.
He long dials a key and growls an order. βSteven. See the delivery boy leaving
right now? Have his building pass revoked.β
I gape. Stonehart keeps speaking. βWait. I thought of one better. Bar his
company from accessing the building.β Thereβs a pause. βFor how long?
Indefinitely. FedEx can talk to me when they have an improved employee
selection program in place.β
The phone call gives me just enough time to compose myself. My heartβs still
beating out of my chest. But nobody has to know that.
I speak without thinking. βYouβre going to restrict the entire company from
serving this building because of that?β
Stonehart humors me with an answer. βA companyβs employees are its most
important asset. Their behavior reflects the organization as a whole. If FedEx
decided that clown is good enough for them, it tells me theyβre sloppy. I do
not do business with sloppy organizations.β
βWhat about the other tenants in the building?β I ask. βWonβt that piss them
off?β
When I hear myself and realize how improper my question is, my
cheeks flame red again.
Stonehartβs eyes darken, as if he cannot believe I asked that question. I open
my mouth to apologize for my imprudence, hating the way my professional skills
have evaporated into thin air. Iβm cut off by a short, barked laugh.
βMiss Ryder.β He sounds amused. βI believe that is the most direct and honest
question anybody has dared ask me in weeks.β He takes my elbow again and leads
me to the elevators. I have to take two quick steps to match one of his long
strides.
βYes,β he continues. βThey will be βpissed off.β But the perk of owning a
buildingββ he hits the elevator call button, ββis that you get to make
executive decisions.β He gives me an unreadable glance as the doors open. βThat
is, at the risk of being questioned by inexperienced interns.β
If that isnβt a loaded remark, I donβt know what is. I flush scarlet red for
the third time since Iβve met him. Iβve never had a man throw me so off
balance.
The elevator is packed, for which Iβm infinitely thankful. The trip up will
give me some time to properly compose myself.
Gratitude turns to panic when the crowd files out, meek as mice, when Stonehart
steps in. None of the people waiting in the lobby follow us.
The doors close. Iβm alone in here with him. My heartβs beating as fast as a
hummingbirdβs wings.
He catches me staring. βImpressed?β he asks.
βThey know you,β I manage.
His dark eyes flash with amusement. βAstute.β
Oh God. Itβs him. Thereβs no mistaking that rich, masculine treble.
Whatβs he doing down here?
βM-Mr. Stonehart,β I stutter, turning. I curse my inability to hide my surprise. He totally caught me off-guard. I have to look up to meet his eyes. Then up some more.
The face that I find is so striking it should belong to a Greek god.
Heβs younger than I expected. Late thirties, maybe early forties.
That means he started his company when he was younger than me!
Dark scruff lines his angular cheeks. His jet-black hair is styled in long, natural waves. My fingers itch to run through it.
Totally inappropriate.
He has a prominent nose that might be too big on a less imposing man, but on him, itβs perfect.
In short, heβs a package of the purest masculinity Iβve ever seen.
And then there are his eyes. Oh my God. His eyes. They pierce into me like honing missiles. They are the deepest black I have ever seen. They would be frightening if they werenβt so beautiful. When the light reflects a certain way, you catch a glimpse of the purple underneath.
They are like midnight sapphires. His eyes reveal a cunning intellect. Those eyes do not miss a thing.
Add all that to his towering height, his wide shoulders, his confident-yet-at-ease posture⦠and Stonehart cuts an intimidating figure.
My gaze darts to his left hand before I can stop it. No ring. Heβs unmarried.
He looks down at me, expectantly. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I feel like Iβm being dissected, measured up, and tucked away in some small corner of his brain. I imagine this is what a gemstone feels like under the magnifying class of the most critical appraiser.
Stonehart clears his throat. I come to with a start, realizing I havenβt said anything in ages. I open my mouth, but the capacity for speech seems like a foreign concept to my brain. βIββ
Somebody bumps into me from behind. I stagger forward. Iβm not used to these shoes, so my heel steps the wrong way. My ankle twists under me, and I start to fall.
I donβt fall far. The hand still on my elbow tightens, and Stonehart pulls me into him.
I plaster myself onto the solid steel wall the man has for a body. I catch a scent of his cologne. Itβs a deep, musky smell with a hint of charred spruce that is all male. It scrambles my thoughts even more.
βSorry!β a rushed voice calls out. From the corner of my eye, I see the postman giving a hurried, apologetic wave.
Although the sequence lasts less than a second, it feels like an eternity. Pressed up against him like that, I donβt want to move. I know that I couldnβt have made a worse first impression.
Stonehart eases me off him with a firm yet gentle grip. Our eyes meet. I flush the most vibrant red. His fingers graze my forehead as he brushes a lock of hair out of my face.
Any tenderness I may have imagined vanishes when Stonehart takes out his cell. He long dials a key and growls an order. βSteven. See the delivery boy leaving right now? Have his building pass revoked.β
I gape. Stonehart keeps speaking. βWait. I thought of one better. Bar his company from accessing the building.β Thereβs a pause. βFor how long? Indefinitely. FedEx can talk to me when they have an improved employee selection program in place.β
The phone call gives me just enough time to compose myself. My heartβs still beating out of my chest. But nobody has to know that.
I speak without thinking. βYouβre going to restrict the entire company from serving this building because of that?β
Stonehart humors me with an answer. βA companyβs employees are its most important asset. Their behavior reflects the organization as a whole. If FedEx decided that clown is good enough for them, it tells me theyβre sloppy. I do not do business with sloppy organizations.β
βWhat about the other tenants in the building?β I ask. βWonβt that piss them off?β
When I hear myself and realize how improper my question is, my cheeks flame red again.
Stonehartβs eyes darken, as if he cannot believe I asked that question. I open my mouth to apologize for my imprudence, hating the way my professional skills have evaporated into thin air. Iβm cut off by a short, barked laugh.
βMiss Ryder.β He sounds amused. βI believe that is the most direct and honest question anybody has dared ask me in weeks.β He takes my elbow again and leads me to the elevators. I have to take two quick steps to match one of his long strides.
βYes,β he continues. βThey will be βpissed off.β But the perk of owning a buildingββ he hits the elevator call button, ββis that you get to make executive decisions.β He gives me an unreadable glance as the doors open. βThat is, at the risk of being questioned by inexperienced interns.β
If that isnβt a loaded remark, I donβt know what is. I flush scarlet red for the third time since Iβve met him. Iβve never had a man throw me so off balance.
The elevator is packed, for which Iβm infinitely thankful. The trip up will give me some time to properly compose myself.
Gratitude turns to panic when the crowd files out, meek as mice, when Stonehart steps in. None of the people waiting in the lobby follow us.
The doors close. Iβm alone in here with him. My heartβs beating as fast as a hummingbirdβs wings.
He catches me staring. βImpressed?β he asks.
βThey know you,β I manage.
His dark eyes flash with amusement. βAstute.β
I live near beautiful Seattle,
Washington. I grew up reading all types of fantasy books before
discovering the wonderful world of romances in high school. Now, I spend
most of my time writing about sexy men and the women who love them.
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