Showing posts with label Parker Swift. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parker Swift. Show all posts

Sunday, 11 June 2017

Release Day Spotlight: Royal Treatment by Parker Swift



ROYAL TREATMENT
by Parker Swift
(June 11, 2017; Forever Yours eBook; $3.99; Royal Scandal Book 3)



All this duke needs is his duchess…
For five blissful months I've been engaged to Dylan Hale, the most handsome, commanding, and wickedly sexy duke in England. For five months I've woken up next to the man I love, indulged in secret trysts, and submitted to every delicious desire. Even better? We've managed to keep it hidden from everyone. That means no paparazzi scandals, no snide comments from Dylan's mother, and no harsh public scrutiny. It's been heaven, but with Dylan's royal responsibilities looming, our time alone is running out. And while I can't wait to be Dylan's wife, I'm terrified that becoming Dylan's duchess might mean losing myself.



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For the past five months, I’d taken my mission to heart: Put yourself first. Enjoy the freedom of life out of the spotlight. Get your career off the ground before it competes with running an ancient estate and being on your husband’s arm.
For five months, I’d said yes to all things. Late nights dancing with Fiona and Josh. Girlie nights with Emily. Paris for Fashion Week. Long runs in the park by myself without paparazzi trailing me. Late nights working on the launch of Fiona’s online store. Dylan and I had kept our relationship low profile so that I could do all those things, so I wouldn’t get sucked into the aristocratic machine, so I could move freely and make choices without fear of how it would look or who would be watching. And it had been great. It did feel freeing, like I’d been slipping into a version of adulthood I’d always been waiting for, figuring out who I wanted to be in the world, taking a deep breath while I thought about the reality of being a duchess. But no matter what I did, I was always happy to go home to Dylan, to find him there, to let him find me there. Nothing had changed in that regard—I wanted to be with him.
I had figured I’d wake up one day and just know, now’s the time. And on that day I’d replace soon with yes. We’d make a big announcement, open the door, I’d officially be Dylan’s fiancĂ©e and soon after his wife, with everything that came with it. But that aha moment hadn’t happened yet, and now there was this. This decision, going to New York for six months, would change everything. If I said no to Hannah’s offer and stayed in London, I knew that, in some plates-shifting kind of way, it meant that I was ready to say yes to Dylan, to all of this, to everything he was asking for. But if I said yes to Hannah, to effectively leaving behind everything I’d built in London for a half a year in New York, my long engagement would be longer than I’d ever really wanted it to be.
With each block I passed through, my mind changed, I swayed back and forth. Yes, I’d go to New York for six months. No, I’d stay in London with Dylan. Yes. No. Yes. No. It felt like everything was pitted against one another. London versus New York. My career versus my relationship. My present versus my future.
I was swimming so feverishly in my own mind, my heels clacking on the pavement, my bag swinging against my hip, that didn’t realize I was standing in front of our house.
Our house.
I hadn’t walked to the store. I’d walked home.
As I looked in the window, I could see Dylan in the library on the ground floor. It looked like he was searching for a book, his arm stretched up to one of the higher shelves. He’d been working on a restoration recently and had been researching like a madman. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that fitted his muscular frame perfectly. His hair was tousled, uneven from running his fingers through it. He looked at the book in his hands and then stared into the room, thinking. I knew that in a moment he would begin absent-mindedly spinning the pencil in his hand, tapping it against his shoulder, deep in thought. I knew, without looking, that his feet would be bare. I knew there was probably a half-consumed cup of tea on a stool by his drafting table. I knew him.
The beauty I saw when I looked through that window made my chest tighten. I was looking into a home that had become mine, ours. I was looking at my future.


Parker Swift grew up in Providence, Rhode Island, and then grew up again in New York, London, and Minneapolis and currently lives in Connecticut. She has spent most of her adult life examining romantic relationships in an academic lab as a professor of social psychology. Now, she's exploring the romantic lives of her fictional characters in the pages of her books. When she's not writing, she spends her time with her bearded nautical husband and being told not to sing along to pop music in the car by her two sons.





Sunday, 2 April 2017

Release Day Spotlight:Royal Disaster by Parker Swift



ROYAL DISASTER, Royal Scandal Book 2
by Parker Swift
April 2, 2017; Forever Yours eBook; $3.99



"He's not who you think he is . . . "
Meeting Dylan Hale has turned my life upside down. I'm dating an actual duke who's devastatingly handsome and deliciously naughty. On the surface, I'm living the high life. But this surreal world of royalty and paparazzi is getting out of control.
Someone knows way too much about Dylan and me-about the moments when we're alone, about how his hands leave a trail of fire over my skin . . . about the complete control he has over me between the sheets. And worse, it's starting to become clear that Dylan's keeping secrets from me, too . . .





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Dylan urged me through the door to his bedroom, his palm spread widely across my lower back. “In you go,” he said firmly.
I stepped into the dark room, lit only by the light coming from the bathroom door.
Dylan moved behind me, to the side, and stood me in front of a leather club chair. I waited as he poured himself a glass of water and placed it on the table next to the chair after taking a long swig.
What? No more Scotch?” I asked, following his eyes as he circled me, coming to stand behind me.
I want my senses about me for this. You were bloody gorgeous tonight,” he said into my ear, his fingertips stroking my arms. “So perfectly yourself. I want to reward you. I want to sink into you. I want to goddamn consume you,” he said slowly, taking his time, and I gulped in anticipation. “And no more talking,” he said softly, finally settling into the chair before me and gazing up at me. “Undress.”
I giggled a little. “So it’s going to be that kind of night.”
He tsk-ed at me, wagging his finger as he sat down. “Shh, damsel. This will be better if you follow instructions.”
My skin was singing—it felt like there were a million little weather systems moving in the air around me, all electric, all feverish. My breathing was picking up.
I walked up to him, put my hands on the armrests of the chair where he sat, leaned over, and kissed him slowly on the lips. No tongue, just firm, warm lips.
Can you unzip me at least?” I whispered, our faces centimeters apart, the air between us warming. Our eyes met, and my little challenge added heat to this game. He was getting ready to devour me.
I stood and turned, so my back was to him, and I felt him rise behind me. He dragged the zipper slowly down my back and slid his hands into the dress. They were so warm and felt so big, like he could grab me fully around my middle. His thumbs stroked my underarms, and the subtle movements caused a ripple, a shiver of anticipation.
The dress, now loose, slumped off my shoulders, making room for his hands. He unclasped my bra, and it fell into the dress. Then he pushed the whole thing off my arms and down my body, so it hung in front of me, and my bra spilled to the floor.
On the bed, damsel.” He smacked my ass—hard. I smiled, eager, scurried to his majestic four-poster canopy bed, and perched myself on its edge. I bit my lip between my nervous teeth and sat on my hands. My hair drifted around my shoulders. The pit in my stomach and the round ache between my legs were getting sharper, firmer, more demanding. I wanted his hands on me, all over me. He was taking this too slowly, like he was stalking his prey.
Dylan reached into his bag, parked by the base of the bed, and lifted out a long coil of velvety-looking fabric, wider than rope, softer looking. “You game for this, sweetness?” I nodded hungrily, shamelessly. “Good. Then up at the headboard. Now.”
I crawled on all fours and turned back to look at Dylan stalking me. “Thought this through, did you?”
Smack.
Another crisp slap to my ass.

Right, no talking. But if that was my punishment, I might have to keep rebelling. I couldn’t stop the eager smile forming on my face, and Dylan shook his head. “Incorrigible.”


Parker Swift grew up in Providence, Rhode Island, and then grew up again in New York, London, and Minneapolis and currently lives in Connecticut. She has spent most of her adult life examining romantic relationships in an academic lab as a professor of social psychology. Now, she's exploring the romantic lives of her fictional characters in the pages of her books. When she's not writing, she spends her time with her bearded nautical husband and being told not to sing along to pop music in the car by her two sons.


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