Series: Finding Me, #1
Published by K.L. Kreig Publication Date: February 20th 2017
Pages: 420
Also in this series: Found Underneath
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We all have one.
A price.
That magic number that will get us to agree to do anything, be anything.
Donβt sit on your gold-plated high horse and say you donβt because you do. Everyone does. Each of us has something we covet enough that weβd sell ourselves to have it.
Whatβs my tipping point, you ask? Apparently a cool quarter mil will do the trick.
What does one do for 250 large, you wonder? Anything the infamous, gorgeous playboy of Seattle wants. For the next four months Iβll be Shaw Mercerβs arm candy, his beck and call girl, his faux girlfriend. Iβll be his to command, mold, push and pull in any direction he sees fit.
Iβll fight falling into bed with him. Iβll fight falling in love with him even harder. Iβll fail at both. And when my past and present collide in the most unexpected of ways, Iβll learn that while one manβs love for me has never died, the only manβs love I really want will never be mine.
*If dirty-talking, dominant alphas are not your thing, move along. Mature, 18+ only. Book 1 in a 2-part duet.
Cocktails and Books received this book for free from Blog Tour in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect our opinion of the book or the content of our review.
This has a little bit of everything I love – a hot confident billionaire who is not sure about love and the beautiful girl who can change that for him. Β The difference is that in this case, the girl is just as lost as the billionaire, they are both lost until they find each other.
Shaw Mercer needs a girlfriend, his dad is running for mayor in Seattle and Shaw’s past is a little too colorful for someone running for re-election. Β Not wanting any emotional ties he takes his best friend and business partner Noah’s advice and hires someone to play the role. Β Shaw has the perfect girl in mind – the one he happened to rear endΒ but can’t find. Β When Noah sets up for Shaw to meet the fake girlfriend he finds Willow the girl that got away. Β The problem is the more time he spends with Willow he knows that the chemistry he feels for the closed off Willow is more than he bargained for and now he wants more. Β Can he be all that he wants to be for Willow?
Willow Blackwell needs money a lot of money – she has been working multiple jobs, one being a paid escort trying to keep her mom out of a home she finds that the stress is really beginning to get to her. Β When Shaw Mercer makes her an offer she can’t refuse she know she needs to do everything in her power to keep him at arm’s length. Β The problem is that the more time she spends with Shaw the more she gives her heart over to him. Β Can she risk it?
KL Kreig weaves a story about love, trust, and heartache the sucks you in from the beginning. Β Willow has had so much pain in her life that she could have come across almost annoying, instead, Ms. Kreig writes her with a guarded honesty that was, in my opinion, refreshing. Β Shaw was a little more difficult to understand, he comes from a loving but rather dysfunctionalΒ home but with parents who adore each other yet he has a hard time with love and relationships. Β Told in dual POV’s Ms. Kreig gives the reader insight into each character and who they are which I loved. Β The secondary characters namely Willow’s and Shaw’s best friends are great additions to the story and are unique in their own way. Β This is part of a duet so there is a major (major) cliffhanger and outside forces that jeopardizeΒ their new romance – I can’t wait to find out how Shaw and Willow will come out on the other side.
All in all, I loved this book and do recommend it!
Lost in Between by KL Kreig is LIVE!
“Clear a space on the top shelf of book boyfriendsβ¦.thereβs a new man claiming a top spot and his name is Shaw Mercer.” – Totally Booked Blog
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Excerpt:
When he told me his plan and showed me the picture of the woman whoβd play my love interest for the next several months, I was immediately drawn to the her, but it took me a few seconds to realize why.
It was her.
My spicy little Goldilocks.
The one I havenβt heard from.
The one I havenβt been able to get out of my fucking head for the past eight days.
The one my cock involuntarily gets hard for in the dark of night.
The glossy-colored print I stared at for long minutes was a complete contradiction to the fiery woman Iβd met.
On paper her exterior was flawless. Not one sculpted eyebrow out of place. Striking blue eyes rimmed with the right amount of shadow, liner, and mascara that made them alluring but not slutty. Pouty lips painted a deep shade of maroon, lined impeccably so the stain didnβt seep, then glossed enough in the middle to draw your attention to their fullness. Hair curled into loose ribbons that fell over her shoulders and down her slim back.
But while the outside was practiced perfection, the inside screamed dead. Not damaged, not broken or bruised, but lifeless. This beautiful creature went through the motions. She moved through life without living. I donβt know how I saw it, or why, but I know it wasnβt a product of my overactive imagination. This womanβs pain was rooted deep but she put on an award-winning faΓ§ade that told the outside world otherwise.
I saw the same thing when I stared into her fierce eyes under the cover of my sunglasses days ago, but I also saw something else. Smoking embers buried under piles of ash. God help me, but for some reason I want to be the man who stokes those smoldering cinders until they spark into a burning inferno, bringing her roaring back to life.
Standing before her now, Iβve no doubt Iβm the igniter, the single match needed to wake her from the living dead.
βSummer, is it?β I close the door behind me and move to the couch, gesturing for her to sit.
She doesnβt. She just blinks rapidly like sheβs seeing a ghost. That makes me smile for some reason.
I know the name sheβs using is fake. I hate it. Not the name, per se, but the fact that I donβt know her real one. I told Ms. Deveraux my circumstances and my concern around using a fake name. The press will eventually find out and itβs best if weβre up front in the beginning rather than if they dig, thinking weβre hiding something. That would be disastrous. She agreed but told me the decision was up to Summer. If she agreed to my terms, I could plead my case. If not, then her anonymity was still protected.
βYou donβt look like a Summer,β I say casually as I take a seat and cross my legs.
Although in a way she does. Sheβs hot and sultry and Iβve no doubt sheβs nice and moist in the place Iβm dying to drive my cock. Jesus, she is absolutely mouthwatering. And she has the sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. Itβs no wonder I canβt stop thinking about her.
She crosses her arms and cocks a hip in irritation. βIs that so? What do I look like then?β
Mine.
Why that disturbing word pops into my head, I havenβt a clue. She is yours temporarily, though. If she agrees.
βHow is your neck by the way?β
That seems to catch her off guard because her cocky bravado falters. βUhβ¦fine. Itβs fine.β She unconsciously reaches up to palm it. My fingers itch, wishing they were on her skin instead. I still remember the electricity that ran down my arm when I touched her before. It set my cock on fire and it hasnβt stopped burning since. βYouβre lucky, you know. I could be wearing a neck brace right now and be lawyered up.β
βAnd youβd still be just as beautiful.β I ignore the lawyer comment. I know itβs just a dig. When she blushes and looks away, my grin gets wider and I allow myself a few seconds to absorb her, head to toe. I find myself zeroing in on that tiny diamond stud in her nose, now catching the light. I first noticed it when she pounded on the window of my Rover calling me names. I generally find them childish, yet on her, I find myself incredibly turned on by it.
βWhy donβt you take a seat?β On my lap would be preferable.
Defiant eyes snap back to mine. βHit and run anyone else lately?β
βHit and run?β I chuckle. βI didnβt hit and run you. I took accountability.β
βYeah. After I dumped car parts into your lap, it was pretty hard to deny it any longer.β
Hell. This woman is full of restrained passion. She just needs someone to help her unleash it in a very controlled manner.
βWhy havenβt you called about your car? Change your mind on whose fault it was?β Iβm goading her, but Hot. Damn. The sparks firing from her are overly addictive.
βOh, it was your fault, all right,β she snaps. βAnd Iβve beenβ¦busy.β
βYes, I can imagine you have a very full schedule.β I sound more sarcastic than I intend, but the thought of her with other men makes me feel exactly the way I felt when I thought of Noah with her.
Her lips thin. Sheβs madder than a hornet. Iβm harder than a two by four.
βWhy are you here, Drive By?β
Drive By? I laugh at her feisty spirit. God, I want to kiss her. Feel her tongue sparring eagerly with mine. See if she tastes of rage and raw energy.
βI was under the impression you were agreeable to meeting with me.β
When Noah set this up, I insisted on three things.
One: it take place in Ms. Deverauxβs private home with her alone. Thereβs no way in hell I will be caught on film coming and going from her βbusiness.β
Two: I meet with Ms. Deveraux in advance and work through the contractual details to my satisfaction. Letβs just say I now feel comfortable we have a mutual interest in keeping this arrangement buried deep.
And three: I be allowed to personally meet with βSummerβ before she signs the contract. Surprisingly, that was the toughest piece to negotiate. Seems Ms. Deveraux is very protective of her, or maybe sheβs that way with all of her employees.
Everything I have done to secure her has deviated from Ms. Deverauxβs normal course of business, but this situation is far from normal. Itβs reckless at worst. Precarious at best.
βHow did you find me?β
Sheer, dumb luck.
βIβm very resourceful.β
Her forehead creases. βThis is a mistake.β
She turns to leave and I panic. True blistering panic sears through me at the thought sheβs about to walk through that door and I may never see her again. I donβt know her real name. I donβt know how to contact her and if this meeting goes south, I know I wonβt get anything further about her from Randi Deveraux. If she walks out on me now, I highly doubt sheβll give me the time of day when she finally does call Dane about her car.
I donβt know why I care that I spend the next few months with her and only her so damn much. I just do.
βWait,β I plead.
She stops but doesnβt turn. I have no idea what possesses me, but I close the distance between us until Iβm a whisper away. Our body heat plays off each other, growing hotter by the second.
βYou havenβt even listened to my proposal,β I say against her ear.
Her breath kicks up. Good. Sheβs not unaffected by me, and that will play into my hand nicely.
βYou can get someone else,β she replies softly, without conviction.
Drawing her long hair off her shoulder, I let my finger feather across her bare flesh. Itβs soft and silky. She shivers. I suppress a moan. Fuck, I want her so much. It makes no sense.
βI donβt want anyone else,β I tell her truthfully, keeping my voice low.
βWhy?β she breathes.
I donβt know why. I have no idea what it is about her that draws me in. I wish I did. I need to stop it. I should end this right nowβlook at a dozen other pictures and pick a woman whose very presence doesnβt twist me into knots and make me have thoughts Iβve never had before. Thoughts that make me uncomfortable. Itβs unnerving.
But, fuck me. I canβt. There is just something different about this woman and I wonβt rest until I find out what it is.
βHave a seat. Just hear me out. Please,β I tack on sincerely.
She stands motionless and I wonder what her next move will be. My hands curl into fists as I restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her to my house. I think she could benefit greatly from a hard hand and a red ass. I have a feeling she might even enjoy it.
When she floats effortlessly to one of the velvet-covered chairs, I release a veiled breath. Picking up the contract from the edge of Ms. Deverauxβs desk, I make myself comfortable across from her and place the paperwork on the table separating us. Her eyes drop to it but she makes no move to pick it up.
βSo whatβs your proposal, Mr. Knowles?β
βMr. Knowles?β
βThatβs your name, right? Dane Knowles. Wildemer & Company?β
Amused, I rest my elbows on my knees and grin at her. βNo. Dane is my assistant. I told you to call him and heβd take care of the damage to your death box.β
βDeath box?β She sounds offended.
βDo you know what the safety rating is on that little tin can you drive?β When she opens her mouth to respond, I talk over her. βFive point seven out of ten. Youβre basically driving around in your own steel coffin.β
I expect a hot retort or for her to leave in a huff. What I donβt expect is a genuine, breathtaking smile that lights up her face like summer and makes my cock knock uncomfortably on my zipper in a futile attempt to reach her. My God, sheβs trying to kill me already.
βAre you a walking Kelly Blue Book of safety ratings, Mr.β¦?β
βI have a vast array of useless Trivial Pursuit knowledge up here,β I retort with a smirk, finger pointing to my temple. Iβll never admit that I looked it up after our little accident. She could be seriously hurt in that ridiculous miniature box on wheels that somehow passes for a fucking car. Hell, had I hit her any harder, she would be in the hospital. βAnd Iβm Shaw. Shaw Mercer.β
βShaw Mercer,β she repeats slowly like sheβs tasting my name for the first time. Savoring every consonant and every vowel. Fuck. I sit back and cross one leg over the other to hide my rock-hard erection.
βAny relation to Preston Mercer?β
I nod, impressed that she tied me back to my father instead of referring to me as one of Seattleβs most eligible bachelors. Sheβs intelligent and up on politics. I like that. Immensely. If you ask three-fourths of the residents of Seattle, they wouldnβt be able to tell you how many branches of government there are, something thatβs taught in middle school, let alone who the mayor of Seattle is.
βSo why is the mayorβs sonβ¦here?β
Her eyes are locked on mine, waiting on an answer.
When she swallows I follow the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that peek out from the light pink strapless flowing dress sheβs wearing like a fucking Greek goddess. One flick of my finger and I could find out the color of her areolas and the size of her nipples before I draw one into my mouth for a sample. My mouth waters at the thought.
The conversation that Ms. Deveraux and I had earlier about expectations sits hard in the pit of my stomach. On one hand, I was relieved to get confirmation she doesnβt sell herself, only her βtime,β but now that Iβm sitting here in front of her, I wonβt rest until she lets me explore every square inch of not only her perfect body, but her complex mind. I want to know her like no one else has.
When our gazes connect again Iβm sure mine is full of unmistakable heat. Hers definitely is.
She clears her throat and straightens her back. βI think you have the wrong idea about what it is I do.β
βI donβt,β I state plainly.
βI donβt sleep with my clients, Mr. Mercer.β
Oh, but you will. We both know our ingredients are explosive.
βWomen would pay to have sex with me, not the other way around.β
She huffs a laugh as a wry look crosses her face. βThen what is it you need if not a good fuck?β
I chuckle and when I lean forward she straightens her spine. I love that even the simplest of movements I make in her direction affect her, just like she does to me. βIs that what Iβll be missing with you? A good fuck?β I wonβt be missing a damn thing. She will be mine in every conceivable way. I know it and so does she.
βNot just good. Life altering,β she banters smoothly.
Now itβs my turn to smile slowly. What I wouldnβt give to throw her up against the wall and show her just what a life-altering fuck really is. For what seems like forever we stare at each other in some sort of weird silent challenge where weβre waiting to see what move the other will make.
Shaking myself out of her spell, I pick up the papers and hand them to her.
βWhatβs this?β
βYour employment contract.β
βAll the paperwork is handled through Randi.β
βI want a little extra insurance.β
She quickly flips through the five-page document before lifting her eyes. βNondisclosure agreement? This is sounding very fifty shades-ish. And just so you know, if I find any mention of hard limits or safe words, thatβs a deal breaker.β
I canβt help but laugh loudly.
βIβm not kidding,β she says, her voice stern.
βTrust me, Goldilocks, if I could have gotten that past your warrior she-devil, I would have.β
Her eyes narrow, but I see a little twitch at the corner of her mouth so I forge ahead, making a mental note to invest in handcuffs and a flogger. Or six.
βThe duration is for approximately the next four months. Ten hours a week, maybe more, maybe less, depending on my schedule. You may be required to travel and you will be available at all times when I need you, day or night. You will attend social events, fundraisers, business dinners, and family functions. You will be photographed and itβs only fair to warn you, you will likely be hounded by the press but Iβll try to shield you as much as possible.β
She regards me quietly. I wish I could tell whatβs spinning around in that pretty little head of hers. A corner of my mouth tips when she says, βReelection is just around the corner.β
Not a question and I donβt answer, but score another point for her.
For not the first time I wonder if this little plan of Noahβs will backfire, taking us all down in a curl of hot flames. She figured out what I was doing within two minutes. Lianna would be a far safer, more believable choice. But thereβs also an undeniable, powerfully charged connection between us that will be hard for people to refute.
βAnd what is my role, specifically?β
Deciding I donβt care if this entire thing blows up in my face because that means I wonβt get what I wantβwhich is herβI stand and step around the table, holding out my hand.
When she tentatively sets hers in mine, I help her up and wrap one arm around her waist.
Pulling her close, I relish in the hitch of her breath. Cupping her cheek, I savor the baby-fine skin under the pad of my thumb. I take a deep breath, drinking in her delicately floral scent. Sheβs intoxicating and my head is already spinning.
βWhat are you doing?β she whispers, her small hands going to my chest.
Dipping my head, I trail my nose along her jaw, stopping so my lips brush her ear. βMaking sure we have chemistry.β
She mutters a curse under her breath I know Iβm not meant to hear before stuttering, βWhβ¦why?β
Fuck, if she only knew the dirty things running through my head right now.
βBecause, my wide-eyed little pretty, youβre going to play my new love interest. My girlfriend. My serious girlfriend.β I emphasize the word so she understands what sheβs getting herself into. I wonβt pay her to be in my bed but that doesnβt mean she wonβt end up there anyway.
βIβ¦I havenβt agreed to anything yet.β Her breathlessness is testing me and sheβs only about half an inch away from finding out exactly how much.
Walking into this meeting, I had already agreed to what I thought was a generous offer with her boss, madam, keeper, whatever sheβs called. But after the last fifteen minutes, Iβve decided I will pay whatever it takes to have her. To own her. I think I would give away my own soul.
Framing her face with both hands now, I lean in until my mouth is a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes fall to my lips. I feel her wariness, but I also feel her hunger. She parts her lips and I watch with a deep ache in my groin as her tongue darts out to moisten them in anticipation of my kiss.
I restrain from slamming my mouth to hers, taking what I want. What she wants me to take, regardless of how sheβs trying to refute me.
βBut you will. Everyone has a price, Summer. Whatβs yours?β
About the Author:
As a USA Today Bestselling author, I write stories that are deeply emotional with flawed characters, because humans ARE flawed and if we read about perfect characters living in their perfect world, first of all, snoozer, but secondly, we never experience the gratification of redemption.
Outside of writing, Iβm just a regular olβ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. Itβs a vicous cycle. I love carbs, but thereβs love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hellβ¦who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). Iβm a huge creature of habit, but Iβll tell you Iβm flexible. I read every single day and if I donβt get a chanceβ¦watch the hell out. My iPad and me: BFFs. Iβm direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (donβt ask, itβs a thing).
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