ABOUT THE BOOK
Midnight Vengeance
(Midnight #4)
Lisa Marie Rice
Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: August 18th 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
(Midnight #4)
Lisa Marie Rice
Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: August 18th 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Gorgeous, talented and refined, she’s the type of woman who could never be interested in a roughneck like him. So he’s loved her fiercely in secret, taken her art classes, and kept a watchful but comfortable distance. Until now.
Lauren had finally found a home in Portland, far from her real identity, far from the memories of her mother’s death, and outside the reaches of the drugged-out psycho who’s already tried to kill her twice. One tiny misstep—a single photograph—has shattered it all. She has no choice but to run again, but this time she’ll give herself a proper farewell: one night with Jacko.
Their highly charged emotional encounter changes everything. In Jacko’s arms there cannot be fear, there can only be pleasure. Anyone wishing her harm will have to pass through him, and Jacko is a hard man to kill.
EXCERPT
Lauren trembled as they walked up to her front door.
Okay. Jacko had basically already said yes, to anything she proposed. So how
hard could this be?
Very hard, it turned out. Because that rush of
conviction in the SUV driving over here had dissipated, leaving her feeling sad
and foolish.
She’d heard the stories about him from Suzanne and
Allegra, though they’d tapered off lately. But still, they’d been plenty
colorful.
How he was a player and he liked them young and super
sexy. Biker chicks, mostly. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t very young anymore and
she was anything but sexy. A B-cup at best, in her more optimistic moments.
She wasn’t even that good in bed, or so she’d been
told. What did she know? It all seemed so very mysterious, right now, walking
up to her porch, with a light snow falling around them. That whole Sex Thing
seemed alien, something Martians did.
Another woman would know precisely what to do and
would be a firecracker in bed. Firecracker.
That was the term one of her stepfather’s goons had used to describe a wannabe
model-du-jour he’d bedded. What did firecrackers do? Sex was such a basic activity, what room was there for
improvement?
And yet there had to be room for improvement because
Lauren knew, without a shadow of doubt, that no one would ever, ever call her a
firecracker in bed. Not even a sparkler.
Oh God. This was a really really bad idea. They were
at her door and the whole Sex Thing loomed behind it. And really, in her
experience sex wasn’t that great.
Maybe it would leave a bad taste in her mouth, cloud up her happy memories of
Portland.
Had Jacko realized that for a brief moment of lunacy
she’d contemplated dragging him to bed? Because though he always looked
impassive and impervious, he was actually pretty observant. How humiliating if
he realized it, shuddered at the thought, politely accepted a shot of her
whiskey and made a fast escape.
And, and even if he did throw her—what was it
called?—a mercy fuck, what would that gain her? She’d never see him again. She
was going to embark upon a long trip tomorrow with no idea of the destination.
She’d need a good night’s sleep, not a night faking orgasms.
Thoughts buzzing in her head like angry hornets, she
scrabbled uselessly in her tiny evening purse for the key. She was close to a
full-blown anxiety attack and her hands were numb. Ah, there the key was, on
her silver paintbrush fob. But her hand was trembling; she couldn’t fit the
damned key into the lock, one of those fancy ones Jacko had bought for her and
had installed himself.
Something big and warm and hard enveloped her hand,
stilling it. His hand, gently removing the key from the crazy lady’s hands and
opening the door himself.
Lauren looked up into that hard, expressionless face,
wishing she had a clue what he was thinking. How to make a quick getaway,
probably. So he could go home, change out of his formal clothes, hop onto his
massive bike that all the men at Alpha Security International envied and go to
a biker bar. Where he’d pick up a biker chick.
Who’d be young and sexy and fantastic in bed.
“Breathe,” Jacko said, that deep voice heard in organs
other than her ears.
She wheezed in a breath. At the same time, Jacko opened
her door, ushered her in, then closed it behind them.
She didn’t have time for any more anxious thoughts
because a second after the door closed, her back was against it, Jacko’s
considerable weight pressing against her, and he was kissing her.
And kissing her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Marie Rice is eternally 30 years old and will never age. She
is tall and willowy and beautiful. Men drop at her feet like ripe
pears. She has won every major book prize in the world. She is a black
belt with advanced degrees in archaeology, nuclear physics, and
Tibetan literature. She is a concert pianist. Did I mention her Nobel
Prize? Of course, Lisa Marie Rice is a virtual woman and exists only at
the keyboard when writing erotic romance. She disappears when the
monitor winks off.
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