Just when everything in my life is falling apart, I find a chance to turn it around--to step into someone else's glittering world, if only for a little while. I become someone new, no longer the woman defined by an ugly past, but a woman freer and bolder than myself. A woman who isn't afraid to explore every passion, even at its darkest, with a mysterious and seductive man who believes my mask is real.
Handsome and commanding, enigmatic and irresistible, billionaire Dominic Baine is an obsession I cannot afford and should not risk. He ushers me into consuming new pleasures and addicting new desires, until the line between my real life and the fantasy one I've stolen with him begins to blur.
I know I cannot keep my truth from him. I know my past will not stay buried forever. But before I can make it right, everything comes crashing down. I have deceived this powerful, dangerous man . . . and now there is a price to be paid.
* * * * * * * *
FOR 100 DAYS is the first novel in a passionate new contemporary romance trilogy from New York Times and #1 international bestselling author Lara Adrian. Coming soon: FOR 100 NIGHTS and FOR 100 REASONS.
“When you said you were making breakfast, I pictured scrambled eggs and bacon. Maybe a slice of toast on the side. This meal is insane.”
His mouth curves. “I don’t believe in doing anything halfway.”
“So I’m noticing.” I smile up at him. “Lucky me.”
His gaze is locked on me, and the look he gives me makes my stomach flutter with something deeper than basic hunger. After a moment, he indicates for me to start eating. “Bon appetit.”
I slice into the eggs Benedict and can’t hold back my moan as I savor the first decadent bite. Nick watches me the whole time, seeming in no hurry to dig in to his own meal. As I chew and swallow and sigh at the explosion of delicious flavors filling my mouth, his blue eyes glint with a spark of interest that’s nothing short of carnal.
Seeing desire that hot in his intense gaze makes my thoughts heat up too. It doesn’t help that he’s standing there shirtless and barefoot, wearing just a pair of faded jeans that hang low on his lean hips. For what certainly isn’t the first time, my eyes roam the muscled planes and ridges of his chest and arms and rippled abdomen.
He’s beautiful; there is no other word for him. Not even the tangle of angry scars that slash his right forearm and hand can diminish the masculine perfection of Nick’s body. His face is equally devastating—especially when he’s looking at me as if he’s about to leap over the counter and devour me.
“It’s good?” he asks.
“So good.” I lick my lips, uncertain what I find more appealing—him or the fantastic breakfast he prepared for me. “You cook better than a lot of chefs I know.”
“Is that right?” He seems surprised, flattered. He shrugs, but I can see the pride in his expression. And something else, which I’m tempted to call regret. “Cooking started out as therapy for me. A hobby I picked up many years ago when I needed to work to regain the use of my hand.”
He says this as if we both know what happened to him. I want to ask, but I don’t want to dampen this moment the way I sense forcing him to explain his scars to me would.
Leaning his hip against the counter, he crosses his muscled arms over his chest. “I cook now mainly because I enjoy it. It still helps me focus and recalibrate the way nothing else can. Almost nothing, that is.”
I smile as I stab a ripe, red strawberry on the end of my fork. “Well, I think you should know I’m feeling very spoiled right now.”
“Good. We’re only getting started.”
His smirk is dark with erotic promise, and I feel a mix of disappointment and relief when he finally breaks eye contact to pick up his fork and begin eating his breakfast over the counter. We eat in companionable silence for a few moments before he reaches for the bottle of champagne and refreshes my mimosa.
“No problems getting away from work, I hope?”
“No. No problems.” I give him a nonchalant shrug, hating the acid taste of my lie.
I should have told him before now what I do for a living. If he’d think less of me because I earn my paycheck serving drinks, then I’d be better off without him. I’d be smarter to find out now, while I can still break away from him with my heart and my sanity intact. That’s what I tell myself, but the fact that I’ve let the fib exist for this long only makes the truth seem all the further out of my reach.
“What about you?” I ask, trying to soothe my parched throat with a sip of champagne-spiked orange juice. “You’ve been gone for two weeks. I’m sure you have important business things you should be doing right now.”
He smiles as he chews a bite of his Benedict. “I can’t think of a single thing I need to be doing, business or otherwise. Except you, Ms. Ross. Which I mean to take care of just as soon as we finish here. You’re going to need sustenance for all the things I have in mind.”
I feel my cheeks flood with warmth, but I can’t resist teasing him. “Oh, now I see what’s going on here. This amazing meal isn’t so much about impressing me with your culinary skills as it is fueling me up for a marathon in your bed.”
He chuckles, his eyes riveted on me. “Marathon, yes. Without a doubt. The bed is optional.”
Writing as TINA ST. JOHN, her historical romances have won numerous awards including the National Readers Choice; Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice; Booksellers Best; and many others. She was twice named a Finalist in Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards, for Best Historical Romance (White Lion’s Lady) and Best Paranormal Romance (Heart of the Hunter). More recently, the German translation of Heart of the Hunter debuted on Der Spiegel bestseller list.
With an ancestry stretching back to the Mayflower and the court of King Henry VIII, the author lives with her husband in New England.
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Blog Tour Schedule:
May 25th
May 26th
Love, Lust and Lipstick Stains Excerpt
May 27th
May 28th
May 29th
Evermore Books Excerpt
May 30th
June 1st
June 2nd
Reading Lark After Dark Review
June 3rd
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