Happy Tuesday, darlings! Please welcome today's guest, Athena Daniels, and her latest release, Desperate!
Title: Desperate
Author: Athena Daniels
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Cover: Jay Aheer
Category: 111K word, Contemporary Suspense
Blurb:
‘He was
everything she needs and everything she can never have.’
To
save her life, Ivy changes her identity and moves to the other side of the
world. But Blake is no ordinary ex-husband, he is a corrupt private
investigator with links to London’s underworld.
Eric
Prescott, a handsome and successful property developer knows Ivy is hiding
something, and from someone. At first Eric only wants to help, but soon
finds himself falling for this beautiful woman with the haunted eyes. In one
night of explosive passion, Ivy finally gives in. And discovers love, the way it’s meant to be.
Ivy
finally dares to believe she is free, but soon faces losing all that she has
come to love the day when her ex-husband is released from jail. She knows it is
only a matter of time before he will return to serve the full force of his
deadly vengeance.
Evernight Heat Level: 3
Warnings: Bondage
Buy Links:
Evernight
Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/desperate-by-athena-daniels
Amazon (USA): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00S8KZ3GK
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/511796
Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/desperate-mf
Author Bio:
Athena
Daniels is the pseudonym of a wife, mother and business partner who takes any
opportunity she can get to disappear into the world of fantasy. When not reading she writes romantic
suspense. Hot, steamy romance where
complicated and damaged characters are thrown together in suspenseful drama.
One
day, she hopes to fulfil her dream to write full time. In the meantime, she hopes you enjoy her
debut novel, Desperate. If you follow the scent of coffee and
chocolate, you will find her busy working on the sequel. Desperate: The Price of Freedom.
The
first novel of a new series, Sage
will be coming in 2015. It’s a steamy romantic
suspense with a paranormal twist.
Website
– http://www.athenadaniels.com/
Facebook
– https://www.facebook.com/AthenaDaniels11
Twitter
– https://twitter.com/AthenaDaniels11
Excerpt:
At precisely seven o’clock, the intercom sounds,
and I press the button allowing access to the inner building. I cross the room
to unlock the latches on the front door, leaving it slightly ajar.
Dashing back into my bedroom, I grab my clutch,
phone and lip gloss. Quickly, I apply a light spray of my favorite perfume.
When I return to the lounge, the front door is closed but the room is empty.
The picture on the wall is now hanging straight.
My heart gallops irregularly in my chest as I
realize I didn’t check that it was Eric before I pressed the button.
Could Blake be here?
Breathe. In … out … in … out. I order myself to
calm. The horror of my marriage with Blake returns in a single, sickening rush.
What will he do when he finds me?
“Hello?” I call out, but my voice is raspy,
barely a whisper.
I desperately hope for Eric’s easygoing greeting
to ring out, but there is nothing but silence. My blood runs cold, and I can’t
breathe.
My mobile slips from my shaking fingers. The thud
as it hits the floor startles me out of shock, and I bend down to retrieve my
phone. My lifeline.
Gripping my bag tightly, I estimate there are ten
steps to the door.
Silently I take the first few steps. On my fifth step, a
shadow moves to my left, and I bolt the last distance and fling the door open
with enough force that it bounces off the wall. I run to the elevator instead
of the stairs, hoping it will be faster.
I jab frantically at the button. The screen
indicates it has just left the ground floor.
“Ivy!”
It’s not going
to arrive in time. I bounce up and down on the spot. Do I have time to take the stairs?
I’ll have to
run past my front door to get there. Can I even run down the stairs in these
shoes? I won’t have time to take them off; they have tiny buckles. Irrational thoughts
flood through my mind, and I imagine myself stumbling and falling down the
stairwell, only to land in a crumpled
heap at the bottom.
Hurry up, damn
it. The elevator has reached the second floor. There are six more to go.
Perhaps I should take the
stairs?
“Ivy.” The voice permeates the fog of panic in my
mind. It doesn’t sound like a sword being drawn out of a scabbard, sending cold
shivers down my spine. It sounds soothing, like a cup of warm chocolate. The
voice is calling for Ivy, not Sarah.
My mind blanks, and slowly, I turn towards the
voice. The elevator rings, signaling its arrival. I can escape now. I look at
Eric’s concerned face and realize there is no need to run. He puts a bottle of
wine and a glass down on the ground just inside my apartment door and stands in
front of me, grasping my shoulders.
“Ivy, are you okay? What is it?”
I realize how I must appear, like a wild animal
that has just been through the throes of a chase from a predator. Eric pulls me
to him in a powerful crush.
“Jesus, you are shaking like a leaf.” He runs a
hand up and down my back, and I can hear his heartbeat, strong, calm, and
reassuring through his chest.
Relief that Eric is here and not Blake, hits me
with a powerful rush. Pulling away, I try to stand, but my knees wobble then
buckle beneath me. When I hit the cold floor, I start to cry from the reminder
that this is still far from over.
I still live with extreme fear that Blake will
find me. And of what will happen when he does.
Strong arms lift me and through my sobs, and I hear the door shut.
Finally, I begin to quiet enough to hear his soft, soothing words murmuring
against my hair.
As my strength begins to return, I wriggle out of
his arms. “Did you straighten that picture?” I demand.
Eric shrugs. “It was crooked.”
“Well, don’t … just don’t touch my things, all
right?”
“Okay.” His face falls, and I immediately feel
bad. He can’t possibly know that every day for years I lived with Blake’s
obsessive compulsion to have things absolutely straight, and ordered the way he wanted it, right down to the cutlery
in the drawer and the type of food we kept in the fridge.
I glance uneasily over to the vertical strip on
the kitchen blind, and a shiver rolls down my spine. I still think I would have
noticed it at some point before tonight. I have been living here for months
now.
I can’t shake an instinctual feeling that he has been here, and it’s what caused my
apparent over-reaction tonight. No matter how hard I try I can’t dislodge the
thick and heavy sense of foreboding that has settled over me.
“Can you tell me what put that look of terror on
your face and caused you to run for your life just now?”
My eyes take in the bottle of wine and empty
glass on the floor. I realize Eric probably went straight to the kitchen when
he arrived, casually straightening the picture on his way past. I cringe at how
I must appear to him.
“You thought it was him. You thought he found
you.” It wasn’t a question, but I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak past
the constriction in my throat.
“And the picture, straightening it is something
he would do.”
Once again, I nod yes, and tears roll silently
and unchecked down my cheeks.
“Oh Eric, I am so sorry.” A huge sob escapes,
resounding loudly in the small room. I look away as embarrassment heats my
cheeks.
“Sweet Jesus, what has that bastard done to you?”
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