From the
bestselling author of Sempre and Sempre: Redemption comes a thrilling new
two-book series.
Monster in His
Eyes (Book 1)
Release Date:
April 28, 2014
Genre: Romantic
Suspense
Page Count: 350
Torture in Her
Soul (Book 2 in the duology) is tentatively scheduled for release fall 2014.
LINK TO BOOK TRAILER:
BLURB:
Ignazio
Vitale is not a good man.
I
suspect it, the first time I see him, sense the air of danger that surrounds
the man. He has a way of commanding attention, of taking control, of knowing
what I'm thinking before I even do.
It's
alarming and alluring. It's dark and deadly. It's everything I've ever wanted
but the last thing I truly need. Obsession.
It
doesn't take him long to draw me into his web, charming me into his bed and
trapping me in his life, a life I know nothing about until it's too late. He
has secrets, secrets I can't fathom, secrets that make it so I can't walk away,
no matter how much I beg him to let me go. I see it sometimes in his eyes, a
darkness that's both terrifying and thrilling. He's a monster, wrapped up in a
pretty package, and what I find when I unmask him changes everything.
I
want to hate him.
And
sometimes, I do.
But
it doesn't stop me from loving him, too.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This book is intended for a mature audience only, due to some dark and erotic
content.
EXCERPTS:
(EXCERPT #1)
My
heart races in my chest, each beat painful, as it seems to reverberate through
my body. I'm achy, my head pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat. Panic bubbles
in my gut that I try to ignore, to push back, but it's no use. I have no idea
where I am, no idea how I got here, or how long I've been in this place. I'm
confused, sore, disoriented...
And
my bladder feels like it's about to explode.
Slowly,
I sit up in the bed. It's fit for a king—way bigger than any bed I've ever
owned. The mattress feels like fluffy clouds and the intoxicating scent clings
to the pillows and the sheets. Everything is bright white, crisp and clean, and
I'd probably think it was a hotel room, with how impersonal it feels, if it
wasn't for the fact that there's no goddamn bathroom in the vicinity.
I
strain my ears to hear, but it's dead silent, except for the soft sound of air
swishing from the fan. My panic eases a little when I see I'm still fully
dressed, wearing the god-awful eighties clothes from last night.
That
was last night, right?
As
I contemplate what to do, I hear footsteps off in the distance, calculated and
exaggerated as they grow near. I hold my breath when the knob across the room
turns, the door slowly opening.
Oh
shit.
Oh
shit.
Oh
shit.
What
have I gotten myself into?
The
moment I see him, memories
start to trickle in. The bar, dancing, drinking, stepping outside as I search
for Melody but somehow find him there instead. I remember looking at him,
talking to him, and then there's nothing.
I'm
drawing a blank.
He's
wearing the exact same thing as last time I saw him, though, having still not
changed.
Or
maybe black suits are all he owns.
He
hesitates in the doorway when he sees me sitting up, his hand still grasping
the knob, but after a moment he lets go of it and takes a few steps toward me.
Instinctively, I grab the blanket and pull it up, shielding myself, despite the
fact that I'm still fully dressed.
The
act makes him hesitate a second time. He pauses, and stares, but he doesn't
speak.
I'm
not sure what to do, or say, or how I should feel or even what to fucking think, so I just stare back. Awkward.
After
a moment the corner of his lip twitches, revealing the deep dimple.
"You're awake."
"I
am."
Ugh,
my voice sounds like sandpaper and feels just as raw.
"I
was worried," he says. "You've been out for a while."
"Where
is this?" I glance around the room anxiously. "Where are we?"
"My
place."
About
the Author:
JM
Darhower is the author of countless stories and poems, most of which only she
has ever read. She lives in a tiny town in rural North Carolina, where she
churns out more words than will ever see the light of day. She has a deep
passion for politics and speaking out against human trafficking, and when she
isn't writing (or fangirling about books) she's usually ranting about those
things.
Chronic
crimper with a vulgar mouth, she admits to having a Twitter addiction. You can
usually always find her there.
Author's
links:
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