There is something amazingly sexy about confident men who have money and power.
I’ve started a new series, The KNIGHT Brothers. These five brothers, and one sister, are from the same bloodline, but they are as different as night and day. After their father passes away and leaves each of them a house in different parts of the country, they believe that once again he’s used his money to influence their future negatively.
Theobald Knight wasn’t a hero father, but he did know best. Each inheritance holds a key to the past, present and future. From vineyards to lake houses to haunted mansions to a recluse living on a mountain who rides a Harley…you’ll meet these brothers who are brilliant, beautiful, arrogant and have ‘prideful swagger’. Although sister, Angelina Knight, dies early on in the series, she plays a significant role that will change her brothers’ life and have them living a life they never thought possible.
Avary Pine plays the cello like an angel.
One evening after a performance, she is attacked outside of the theater and is left without the use of her hand.
Fast forward three years. After grueling physical therapy and living and breathing the cello, Avary is determined to become the musician she once was. Her music coach encourages her to start playing in the public again. Problem is, the mind doesn’t heal as fast as the body. Each time she closes her eyes she is filled with memories of the attack.
Out of money and in a career rut, she accepts an offer to play at a dinner party at the Knight Estate. Baby steps back into the musical world.
Reserved, intimidating, rich Victor Knight reluctantly invites unworldly, mousy Avary to his estate–but he’s in for a shock. Nothing about her is mousy. The last thing he needs is to get involved with a sweet, free-spirited cellist, but why can’t he resist? She cramps his bachelor lifestyle, and he’s never been happier.
Can they leave the baggage at the door and learn to trust? Or will their past poison their future?
Avary leaned against him, realizing how close she’d been to falling face first on the ceramic tiles. Her embarrassment didn’t last long. It was exchanged for something else—something entirely delicious and haunting. He continued to hold her, her back pressed against his iron hard chest and lean hips. His scent swirled under her nostrils, reminding her of a fresh load of laundry coming out of the dryer—clean and fresh. There was also a hint of body wash—spice and musk. All entwined together made an aphrodisiac for her senses. Her knees weakened and allowed him to steady her.
“That was close,” he whispered near her ear, his breath sweeping across her cheek.
He didn’t release her and she didn’t move. Instead, he lifted his hand to her jaw and slowly brushed his knuckles across her skin, tracing the line to where her pulse beat rapidly in the hollow at her neck. His fingers moved along her shoulder, examining the trembling flesh, gliding the tip of one finger over the tiny strap that held the top of the gown in place. He tucked his thumb underneath and gradually tugged it. The gown slipped low onto one breast. Her nipples turned to solid pearls. He skated his thumbs down her arm and she shivered, a whimper escaping her quivering lips. His breath grew hotter against her nape, his chest lifting and falling raggedly. He nuzzled her neck, his sandpapery beard rasped her sensitive flesh, but quickly forgotten when he brushed his lips against her ear lobe, lower to the spot where her neckline met her shoulder. She was at a loss, uncertain what she should do. She couldn’t move for fear that she would land on her face. And her body liked his touch, enjoyed how he erupted a cluster of sensations through her, over her, around her.
She felt his gentle touch on her wrist—the hand with the scar. She moaned in refusal, but he continued to take her hand into his, sliding his fingers along the length of hers, his thumb tracing the puffy red line. Sparks traveled up her arm and all she could do was stand there, allowing him to coax forbidden sensations within her. He brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed the spot where the scar was reddest, where the knife had first entered her flesh, the deepest cut. Then he traced the line with the tip of his tongue, upward from her palm, over her sensitive wrist and stopping where the scar ended, kissing her again. Her veins quaked and her heart skipped ten beats. She’d never been held with such tenderness, with such emotion.
Watch for release in APRIL!
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