Blurb:
Kidnapped
because of her father’s wrongdoings, Bianca Fontaine is interrogated for any
hint of his whereabouts by a man she has no reason to be drawn to. Who falls
for their kidnapper? Especially an arrogant, hard man who is bound by duty—with
those intriguing soft and caring qualities he hates to show. She’s learned the
truth about her mother’s disappearance and her reality is suspect, except for
the one constant—Ellis Valiant.
Ellis Valiant
is indeed a hard man, but he’s already destroyed Bianca’s world and could make
it worse if he doesn’t send her away. But when he finds her exploring her
submissive side in the sex club fronting for his organization, his noble
efforts fall by the wayside and he steps up as her Dom. Except Ellis harbors a
secret, an insurmountable one, and Bianca will surely hate him when it comes to
light.
Buy links/author links:
Excerpt:
Her head felt packed with puffed cotton and there was a definite
thump in her temples. Bianca tried to swallow and the dryness made her grimace.
She managed to get her right hand to obey her and cautiously reached to touch
her head. It was present and accounted for, and the headache ratcheted up to a
drum roll. Lord, she felt horrible and thought she might be sick. As she
struggled to rise up on one elbow, the pinch of soreness made her wince, and a
few things came back in one breath stealing surge.
“Here.” Ellis’s voice intruded and he leaned in to where she could
see him through barely cracked eyelids. He had a glass of water in his hand and
her body cried out for the moisture. Then she wondered what else was in it and
held back, closing her mouth tightly.
“It’s only water.” He took a sip and offered it again, but she
wasn’t touching anything anyone here offered. Ellis stared impassively.
With a start, she remembered the restraints, and realized she was no
longer held in place. With nothing to prevent it, she rolled sluggishly away
from him, and slipped off the bed, nearly falling, but somehow braced her
weight against the mattress. She watched him warily, and aside from the
straight line his mouth drew, he remained impassive.
Setting the glass down, he motioned to it and some towels on the
nightstand. “I thought you’d want to wipe your face and quench your thirst when
you … woke.”
Ah, more euphemisms. She felt her upper lip lift in a sneer and
hoped Ellis marked it. Thoughts whirled through her head and she couldn’t grab
onto one of them. She then judged the distance to the bathroom and wondered if
her wobbly legs would get her there before Ellis intercepted her.
As if reading her mind, he stood. “You’ll be on your ass and I’m not
letting you hurt yourself.”
A burble of incongruous laughter erupted from her belly and she
tasted bile as she backed away. “You’re such a joke.”
Ellis was on her, that
something unfamiliar now flashing across his face, and he scooped her up, déjà
vu, only hustled her straight to the toilet. On her knees, Bianca retched, but
miraculously everything settled without humiliating her further, and she
dragged herself up with Ellis’s help. The chill of the porcelain bowl helped
her focus.
“Stubborn wench.”
Flipping the lid down, he sat her on it with a thump, telling her to
lean back. He grabbed a towel and wet one end of it. She accepted it and
covered her face, willing him to leave. How had she ever thought to best this
man at anything? Or shame him, for that matter, in appealing to his conscience.
He was made of granite, now any need for the soft sell was over. It might be
the aftereffects of the truth drugs, but she once again felt like a child. She
knew he was still standing there. She could feel him and smell him, that scent
she was beginning to associate with Ellis, like she was his dog or something. A
bizarre vision of her in a collar, panting at his feet,
“You need a shower.”
Well, thank you, Captain
Obvious. She longed to say that out loud but it
might unlock the tenuous hold she had on all the things yearning to spill
out—and peel the flesh from Ellis’s very bones. Like that would ever happen. So
she bit her tongue, because she’d already called him a joke. Enough said.
“Save me from pretentious twits.” She heard him murmur it, as though
he’d gritted his teeth.
A startled yelp escaped as
Ellis took two strides and ripped her shirt open. Buttons popped free and pinged
off the sparkling surfaces. One ricocheted off her forehead and she blinked. So
not like the romance books. Gah, what was
in those drugs?
“Get your jeans off unless you want me to do it.”
Scrabbling to pull the sides of her shirt together over her chest,
she watched as he worked the taps, opening them wide and adjusting the spray of
the shower until he appeared satisfied. The way his brows drew together when he
turned to see her still fully dressed made her shiver. She loosened her grip on
her shirt and fumbled with the snap on her jeans. It refused to give and her
heart leapt into her throat when Ellis, with an impatient grunt, pushed her
hands aside and freed it without any problem, tugging the zipper down.
“Up.”
She giggled this time, unable to contain the sound, and felt her
eyes go wide at the incongruous sound. Sit. Stay. Down. Good doggie. She
managed to stand, once again with help, and Ellis dragged her jeans to her
ankles.
“You’re still impaired.”
Thank you, Mr. Observant. Maybe she said that out loud, because he stiffened. But when she
dared a look, he was staring at her … panties. His head almost immediately
tilted up and he met her gaze. She heard him mutter something about stupidity,
and tried to muster up some indignation, but her head throbbed harder and she
felt terrible.
Thinking he was trying to hug her, she put her hands between them to
push him back, and felt him snap open her bra. She pressed her hands back
against the cups and protested. “Don’t.”
“So you’ll talk if your clothes come off. Well, don’t worry about
it, sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to say.” Smirking, Ellis tugged
her toward the shower and pushed her inside. “Do you need help?”
“No.” Killing was too good for him. He needed to suffer, and she
hoped she found an opportunity to inflict it on him.
Author Bio:
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in
Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She worked in the human
services all across Canada
Allyson will write until whatever she has
inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get
what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side
of romance.
allysonyoung45@gmail.com
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