Far Reaching Consequences
by Anya Summers
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Contemporary Erotic
Romance
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Phoebe
needs a second chance at life.
In the aftermath of the
devastation from her failed marriage, Phoebe returns to her old stomping
grounds to open her own bed and breakfast. Starting over is the bravest thing
she’s ever done – or so she thinks. But opening her front door to find a blast
from her past on her front porch changes all that. The teenager she’d once
known has become a jaw-dropping, dominant man in his prime.
He wasn’t looking for a
relationship until she blazed back into his life.
Graham runs his own
construction business, remodeling homes, and building brand new ones. When his
buddy gives him a lead on a new project, he never expects to run into Phoebe,
the woman he shared a single kiss with eons ago. Nor is he prepared for the
Dominant in him to stake his claim before the end of their first meeting. He
wanted her in high school but there had been too wide a gulf separating them.
Now, Graham will stop at nothing until he makes her his. But there are larger
forces at work, attempting to tear them apart.
When everything Phoebe
holds dear becomes a target, Graham will risk it all for the one woman he knows
he can never live without.
Publisher’s Note: This
steamy second chance romance contains elements of power exchange. While it is
the second in the Crescent City Kings series, it can be enjoyed independently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPTS (Please choose only ONE to use
with your post):
Excerpt One:
The rubber soles of Phoebe’s taupe-colored work boots
squeaked against the golden cinnamon hardwood floor. Daisy’s paws clicked as
she trotted beside her. Phoebe would have to trim Daisy’s nails again. The
plantation itself was in sad disarray after decades of neglect. In some ways,
the plantation was strangely like her life—or at least the way it had been,
until she made the commitment to fix it. For the last thirty years, this place
had stood vacant and unloved. The previous owners had been unable to sell the
property and unable to invest in her upkeep. This grand old lady had become a
dilapidated ruin of a bygone era.
Phoebe hoped to fix this place up, just like she had her
life. She believed, with a bit of elbow grease, she would be able to turn the
plantation back into a showpiece—one for which people would pay for the
experience of staying there. New Orleans and the surrounding area was a
pre-eminent tourist destination that Phoebe planned to capitalize on.
She eventually wanted her own airport shuttle for guests.
But that was getting ahead of herself. The first step was a complete
renovation.
It was only recently that Phoebe had been able to actualize
her dream of owning Riverland to renovate it into a fully operational bed and
breakfast. She’d used the inheritance her late grandpa, Ralph Mackenzie, had
bequeathed her in his will a year ago. The tidy sum he’d left her had been
enough to buy this place outright, along with the small acreage surrounding the
old plantation, with money left over for the needed renovations.
Financially, it would be tight at first until she started
having paying guests. That was why she waited tables at the strip joint Bayou
Sin on Bourbon Street in the meantime. Not because she loved wearing skintight
clothes with men trying to grope her, but it helped supplement her income.
This plantation was infused with all her hope for the
future, one that belonged to her and her alone.
As she reached what had once been a grand entrance, with its
heavy, double oak doors the same warm cinnamon as the floors, she drew the
right-side door open, a greeting on her lips as she spread them in a fake smile
like the one she wore serving drinks. Daisy’s whole body vibrated, her
attention directed at the man on the opposite side of the door. The initial
punch of fear disintegrated as she studied him and memories dulled by time and
distance surfaced.
He was tall, a good six two, and built like a professional
baseball player with broad shoulders and a head full of dark chestnut hair that
was a few weeks past needing a trim. His button-down ivory dress shirt was
rolled up to his elbows, leaving his tanned, brawny forearms bare. The shirt
was tucked into a pair of well-worn blue jeans with a brown leather tool belt slung
around his lean waist.
But it was the man’s eyes, artic blue, making her think of
frost and snow, in the tan, slightly weathered face that caused a bell of
recognition to sound through her and made her lips curl into a genuine smile.
“Graham? Graham Layton, is that really you? You’re the
contractor Dante recommended?” Joy filtered into her voice as she stared at the
blast from her past. It had been almost nineteen years since the night of the
winter formal in high school. The night she had always considered one of the
best of her life.
Excerpt
Two:
“Graham? Graham Layton, is that really you? You’re the
contractor Dante recommended?” Joy filtered into her voice as she stared at the
blast from her past. It had been almost nineteen years since the night of the
winter formal in high school. The night she had always considered one of the
best of her life.
Surprise filtered over his handsome features. A grin split
his face wide and his thick, dark chestnut brows rose to nearly beneath his
hairline, almost touching the Rayban sunglasses shoved on top of his head.
There were tiny laugh lines around his eyes that crinkled.
“Phoebe, as I live and breathe. Well, aren’t you a sight?”
Graham dismissed all formalities, stepped through the doorway, and surrounded
her with an effusive hug. She stiffened at the impromptu embrace, but only for
a moment, because the delight of seeing him overrode her internal panic
button.
She caught a whiff of him, a sinful mixture of man with
traces of his soap, a spicy, exotic fragrance that made her want to bury her
face in his chest and just inhale him. The boy she’d known on the cusp of
manhood in the intervening years had grown into a powerfully built man. A very
hot man, with a killer smile and a body that made her dead hormones rise from
their early grave and pay attention before he released her. It left her
dumbstruck: the sudden onslaught of disappointment that rose in her chest when
he released her.
Wasn’t that just the oddest thing?
“It’s great to see you. If I’d known it was you…”
Graham gave a manly half-shrug as he stepped back. “It is a
surprise—a nice one, to boot.”
Then he knelt, resting his elbows on his knees so that he
was at eye level with Daisy, and held his hand out for her to sniff. “And who
is this?”
“Daisy, this is Graham. He’s a friend.” Daisy glanced up at
her for the okay, her golden eyes searching Phoebe’s face. When Phoebe nodded
in the affirmative, Daisy’s stance relaxed, and she turned into a normal, goofy
dog. She snuffled Graham’s hand, and then lavished his face with a few swipes
of her pink tongue against his cheek before falling at his rather large feet as
he stroked her fur and gave her a belly rub. Euphoria emanated from Daisy. And,
for a split second, Phoebe wondered what it would feel like to have Graham rub
her belly—and further south.
“Beautiful dog.” Graham rose with Daisy following him up
into a sitting position from which she stared at him with adoration. “I cannot
believe you’re the one who bought Riverland Plantation. When Dante gave me your
name, it didn’t ring any bells.”
“Same. I didn’t realize you were G.C. Layton of Layton
Construction. For me, it’s the last name that’s different. Probably why my name
didn’t sound familiar to you.” Quite a few other things had changed as well,
like that she no longer believed in love or happily ever after, or that she
could depend on anyone but herself.
Excerpt
Three:
She opened the door to the small groundskeeper’s house,
which was really nothing more than a glorified pool house. It was four hundred
square feet, little more than a studio apartment in size. The only thing
enclosed was the tiny bathroom. But she had spruced her home up as best she
could, painting the walls a fresh, light powder blue and had put her bed near
the window to catch the early morning sunlight.
There was room enough for her couch and a small television,
plus the eat in kitchen with her small, pine dinette set. She’d painted the
walnut cabinets an eggshell white, giving the place a farmhouse look. Daisy
made a beeline toward her water bowl and dog bed up against the far wall.
“This is where you’re living?” Graham studied her place
without judgement, his gaze assessing the space.
It might not be much, but it was home and, best of all,
hers. “Yep. I don’t need a lot of space or things. Most days I will be over at
the main house from sunup until sundown, at least until I can afford to hire
help.”
If things worked the way she hoped, she would have a hostess
and servers for the dining room. Phoebe already had her eye on a waitress at
the nightclub to entice to come work for her. While she was confident in her
abilities, it would be a juggling act to cook and serve meals in the dining
room at the same time. At first, there was no way around it and she would be
forced to manage it somehow. But she hoped this place would be successful
enough that a few months after opening, she would have the available budget to
hire help.
“Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? And I have
some croissants on the table there, just baked them fresh this morning,” she
said, rather thrilled to be playing hostess. Phoebe enjoyed cooking and had
found early in life that she had a knack for it. But this was a new croissant
recipe she was testing out, and she was interested to see Graham’s reaction.
“It’s barely ten.” He smiled as he sat, facing her and the
kitchen.
“I tend to be an early riser. Always have been.”
“I’m the same.”
Using one of her good mugs, she served him a steaming cup of
coffee, then brought over all the accoutrements on a wooden tray: sugar, cream,
and sugar substitute. She noted that he took his coffee black as night, but he
slathered the croissant with her homemade jam.
“Mmm, oh my god.” He groaned, and the sound pinged low in
her belly. “You made this?” Graham asked, looking at her and then back at the
pastry as if he had died and gone to heaven.
“Yep.” She expelled a breath. The new recipe appeared to be
a hit. Graham ate the croissant with relish. Pinpricks of satisfaction flowed
through Phoebe. She slid into the seat across from him as he put a thumb
covered in jam into his mouth and sucked it off.
Her girly bits throbbed at an unexpected blast of desire
that struck her system like a thunder bolt. It had been an unconsciously sexy
move on his part. It wasn’t like he was attempting to get into her pants. He
was here to earn a potential payday, and work. Yet when he glanced her way with
sublime satisfaction in his eyes, across the small expanse of her pine dinette
table, her insides quivered—and not with fear.
She needed to shut the gate closed and seal it tight. Phoebe
didn’t do relationships anymore. That wasn’t in her plans for her life any
longer.
No matter how sinful the packaging happened to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Born in St.
Louis, Missouri, Anya grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading
anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only
she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the
romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Anya never did
get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St.
Louis with an M.A. in History.
Anya is a
bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She
also writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance under
the name Maggie Mae Gallagher. A total geek at her core, when she is not
writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her
family. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two furry felines.
Website:
www.anyasummers.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/AnyaSummersAuthor
Twitter:
@AnyaBSummers https://twitter.com/anyabsummers?lang=en
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15183606.Anya_Summers
Amazon
https://amzn.to/2SmLqWm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Oct. 27th:
