After the Fall
Seven Winds, #2
by Katy
Ames
Publication date: September 11th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Publication date: September 11th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
BLURB
If there was one man in the world
Grace Fitzgerald never wanted to see again, it was Mark Donovan.
Sinfully handsome, famously
flirtatious, unerringly cocky. Paragon of men. Archetype of entitled a**holes.
As a guest at her luxury hotel, Mark was impossible.
As the new owner of her hotel,
he’s become a nightmare. The kind that wakes Grace in the middle of the night
wishing she could forget how right his lips felt against her own, how tempting
his fingers were against her skin.
But for all of the challenges
that Mark and Grace face working together, nothing can prepare them for the
undeniable attraction that flares every time they battle for control. Or the
secrets that linger in the luxury of the Seven Winds Villa.
With no way of escaping each
other or their pasts, can they possibly survive life on the island after they
fall?
A steamy, standalone romance from
Katy Ames, author of After the Island.
Buy Link: Amazon
99¢ for RELEASE WEEK only!
EXCERPT:
“Mr.
Donovan. This is Grace Fitzgerald from the Seven Winds Resort,” she shouted
through the door, digging out her master key. “Is everything alright, sir?” The
only answer was a loud thud. “Sir, I understand you’re having an issue.” Though
not one that warranted so much noise, she thought. Steeling herself, Grace
continued, “Mr. Donovan, I’m coming in.”
Grace
swiped her key and pushed open the door, stepping into the luxuriously
understated living room of the Seven Winds Villa. Looking around, Grace
confirmed that nothing was glaringly wrong, at least not on the main floor.
Taking
a second glance, Grace registered that the villa’s sole occupant had left a
wide array of debris scattered across most of the available surfaces. More cups
and a few plates of discarded food were stacked on the coffee table bracketed
by the living room sofas. A laptop was open, its screen black, abandoned on the
corner of a side table. As she made her way over to close its lid, Grace’s foot
connected with something on the floor. Whatever it was rolled away, only coming
to a halt when it encountered a throw pillow left carelessly near one window.
Grace
scowled as she retrieved the bottle from the floor. Glenrothes 1970. The five-
thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch was completely empty. Perhaps you should make sure he isn’t
in the pool. Face down. On that morbid thought, she raced to
the terrace beyond the French doors and checked the infinity pool on the patio
below. Empty. Thank
God.
At
the same time, a loud crack split the air beneath her.
“Shit,
shit, shit.” Grace dropped the forgotten bottle and ran down to the lower
level. Whatever she’d expected to find on the ground floor of the resort’s most
expensive villa, this wasn’t it.
There,
sprawled on the ground, eyes closed, lips skewed in an off-kilter smile,
wearing nothing more than a wrinkled pair of shorts, was Mark Donovan,
co-founder and CEO of D&A International. Sinfully handsome, wildly
successful, obscenely wealthy, unerringly cocky, undeniably brilliant, famously
flirtatious. And, Grace was horrified to realize, unconscious and sporting a
wicked cut above one eyebrow.
“Oh,
no, no.” Grace rushed towards him and crouched over Mr. Donovan’s motionless
form, her hands fluttering just above his face. Get a grip, Grace. Check to see if
he’s breathing, check to make sure nothing is blocking his airways. She
focused with a deep breath and shifted her brain to autopilot.
Grace’s
pulse calmed substantially when she saw Mr. Donovan’s chest rise in a steady,
heavy breath. Definitely not dead. Thank
the good Lord. Grace tipped her head back in relief. Skimming her
fingers across his forehead, she gingerly checked the cut to make sure nothing
was lodged in it. The blood had stopped, a dark red trickle disappearing into
the ashy-brown eyebrow that arched defiantly even then. Running an assessing
glance across his head and body, Grace confirmed that other than the bruise
blossoming beneath the cut, Mark appeared to be perfectly fine. Though
unconscious.
An
incoherent mumble broke free of his lips, followed by a muffled snore. Grace
amended that last part. Not unconscious. Asleep.
Slumping
back, Grace rearranged herself so she could sit more comfortably on the floor,
her eyes fixed on her unwitting patient. Mark was stretched out and motionless,
giving Grace an unparalleled view of his starkly beautiful face and
meticulously sculpted body. His eyes were closed and Grace’s gaze wandered
across the sharp ridges of his cheekbones and refined slope of his nose, both
of which drew her attention down toward his wide, generous mouth, his lips
parted, soft puffs of air brushing the strong, supple lines on every exhale.
Determined
to ignore her sudden impulse to taste those lips, Grace shifted her eyes away.
But she only got as far as the tanned skin of his neck, Mark’s pulse kicking
with a regular rhythm at the base, just above the wide stretch of his
collarbone. Refusing to stare, Grace attempted to focus on something innocuous.
Like her cuticles, or the weave the carpet. Or the inviting water of the pool
outside. But a particularly deep inhale dragged her back, this time her
attention landing on the long planes of his broad chest, light wisps of blond
hair dusting the hard curves that came to an abrupt halt against the repetitive
ridges of his abdomen.
Grace, you need to stop staring. Seriously. Stop staring!
But
Grace’s eyes had a mind of their own. She could hardly blame them. As Mark
breathed, the play of the muscles across his stomach and sides was hypotonic,
the slopes and dips elegantly formed, exquisitely defined. Grace’s mouth formed
an ‘O’ as she tracked his torso to where it tapered into sharp angles before
stretching beneath the waistband of his shorts. Of its own volition, Grace’s
tongue slipped across her lower lip as she caught the hint of dark ink dancing
across the shadow of one hipbone.
God
help her, he was beautiful. Every delicious detail all the more enticing at
that precise moment because his eyes weren’t flashing in disdain. And his voice
wasn’t dripping with irritation. Mark Donovan, silent and still, was perfect.
Awake
and entitled? Not so much.
“Typically,
I expect a woman to buy me one drink, at least, before she gets to enjoy such
an up-close and personal view.”
Grace
squeaked in surprise and tried to scramble back, but Mark anchored one of her
wrists in a warm, inflexible grasp.
“You
had an accident. I found you on the floor. I was making sure you weren’t
injured.”
Confusion,
then recollection flashed in the deep indigo of his eyes. Pressing his free
hand to the bump on his forehead, he cocked his lips into a crooked grin. “From
what I can tell, my injuries are up here. Not”—he nodded in the direction of
his crotch—“down there.”
Buy Link: Amazon
99¢ for RELEASE WEEK
only!
Author Info
Katy Ames loves a good story.
Whether through blogs, books, or live events, she’s been an avid story teller
her entire career.
With a bachelor’s in English
Literature, Katy is happiest when curled up on her favorite sofa with a
captivating read, whether it’s the Romantic poets or contemporary romance. A
good glass of bourbon doesn’t hurt, either.
Katy lives with her husband and
son in Washington, D.C. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s very
enthusiastic about fancy cheese, late nights & lazy mornings. Only two of
which she gets to enjoy on a regular basis.
Katy is a member of both the
Romance Writers of America and the Washington Romance Writers.
Sign-up for Katy's newsletter to
receive exclusive content & info about new releases: http://eepurl.com/cNWocb
Author Links:
Hosted by
Presented by
No comments:
Post a Comment