AMELIE LAURENT is on her way to the top of the jewelry designing world with no time for men. Her orderly life is about to come undone when playboy and jewelry tycoon ROMAN CARDIFF steals her away on assignment to a remote English estate. Roman wants Amelie all to himself but St. Clair Manor’s resident ghost has been waiting for her much longer than he has.
An unseen gunman takes a shot at Roman and he blames a business rival. But Amelie and Roman are to blame, for falling in love 200 years before in a time neither of them remember.
From the heartbreak of pre-Revolutionary France to modern day corporate wars, Amelie and Roman uncover a history of blood jewels, lust and demons.
Good witch, bad witch, you must decide…
When Amelie discovers her inner witch she learns the real reason she was summoned to St. Clair Manor. Il Dragone will kill to get her back. Amelie will kill if they do.
Targeted Age Group: 18+
Genre: Contemporary paranormal romance
The Book Excerpt:
“Amelie Laurent, may I introduce you to Roman Cardiff.” Harold gestured toward the Burberry divan in the corner.
She closed her mouth and turned, hand extended. The apology died on her lips.
Dieu. He was a Greek god in a dark tailored suit. Very tall. Different in reality. Cooler than she expected. There was arrogance in his square jaw. His aquiline nose and thick, black brows made him look like a predator.
His expression would have seemed harsh except for the warmth of the sky blue gaze traveling slowly up her body. The eyes gave his features a seraphim quality. They leisurely toured the peachy-pink lacquered toenails peeking through the front of her navy pumps, and then moved up the curve of her hips. She felt those eyes like a puff of warm breath when they grazed the swell of her breasts above the white silk blouse.
She was an innocent doe being circled by a panther that was higher up on the food chain and more resourceful.
Clearly, he wanted to take a bite out of her. His imperial stance said it was his due. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent.
Amelie looked down at the large hand holding hers. Warm, like a glove.
Finally, his gaze met hers.
She did not move, but something sinful shivered inside her. It was the part of her who knew this man. But these feelings weren’t hers—they belonged to that other woman. The one who waited for him at night in her bedroom.
He is real. But he could not be her dream lover.
With an unholy smile, Mr. Cardiff lifted her hand. Full lips moved over her skin in a warm caress, and she was filled with craving.
She jolted out of her reverie, tried to pull away, but he held her there. Her hand relaxed in his.
Stop this, you don’t know him!