Damaged Beauties

HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO TO UNCOVER A SECRET?

Pretty and hard-nosed investigative journalist, Virginia Tremont, has talked her editor into giving her an assignment - to find out what happened to her former teenage celebrity crush, who suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from the public eye ten years ago.

Virginia discovers that he now goes by the name of Ethan Greene. He is holed up in a mansion on a hill where strange things have been rumored to happen. Curiosity-seeking teenagers have been spooked. Young women have disappeared. Ethan himself is a recluse and is almost never seen.

Virginia engineers herself to be swept up in the strikingly handsome Ethan's world, where nothing is as it seems. Then there are the troubling entries in Ethan's diary: "He was here again. He wants to kill me. Take over this house completely."

Too late, Virginia finds herself falling for him, and he for her. But has Virginia put herself in the path of a danger she has totally unforeseen?

At 20,000 words, DAMAGED BEAUTIES is the first volume in the 'ROMANCED BY THE DAMAGED MILLIONAIRE' BDSM erotic romance series.

Excerpt:
We are both seemingly mesmerized by each other. Until I hear the clearing of someone's throat.

"Sir, please allow me to introduce Ms. Tremont to you."

I glance at Jeffrey, who is carrying yet another one of his endless trays, in the doorway leading to the kitchen, presumably. I stand up. My chair is pushed back by my knees.

David Kinney's spell is broken.

"I'm sorry," he says. His voice is the one I heard earlier downstairs. He walks to me, holding out his hand. "I'm Ethan Greene. I'm not used to having visitors."

"So I heard." I shake it. Our palms touch, and a delicious shiver travels down my spine. "I'm Virginia Tremont."

I will my hand not to tremble. I can't help but gaze into his large green eyes, which have captivated millions on the screen. Those very eyes which have rendered so many teenagers weak-kneed and trembling when he played the tortured vampire in Paradise Revisited.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Tremont?"

Feeling? Gad, does he know that my blood is running warm and cold all over my body? Can he tell from the temperature of my skin?

But of course, he's asking about the accident.

I laugh. It sounds a little too shrill for my liking. "Much better, thanks to Jeffrey."

"So I heard," he says, not taking his eyes off me. Do I dare say it, but there's a hunger in his gaze. A rapaciousness, as if the sight of me is an oasis after his long trek through the desert.

He goes to the back of my chair and pulls it out for me. "Please, sit. I'm glad you're able to join me for dinner tonight."

I'm amazed that his manners are impeccable. I sit, warmth suffusing my cheeks. I wonder if I'm blushing.

He has even dressed up for dinner, as though he's trying to impress me. He wears a cashmere jacket over a grey silk shirt. His clothes are tailor-made and expensive. They fit him like a glove.

Jeffrey serves whatever it is on his tray. I barely register what I'm eating. Oh, did I mention Jeffrey's cooking is excellent? I'm certainly not doing it justice tonight. My head is too busy whirling in the kaleidoscope of current events. And I believe I've completely forgotten to play damsel in post-traumatic head wound distress.

I have to be very careful not to let Ethan Greene know I'm a reporter . . . or that I know who he used to be. There's a time and place for everything, and if I play my cards too soon, he will recede. But I must say that I'm having trouble reconciling this polite, sophisticated man with the tortured scribblings I found in his journal.

Then again, the night is still young.