Devil’s Den # 3
By: Violetta Rand
Releasing May 12, 2015
Sin proves that passion goes beyond smoldering desire when hearts dance to their own special beat.
Every woman at the Devil’s Den strip club has a story to tell, and Macey Taylor is no exception. Smart and self-reliant, she’s got a chip on her shoulder, a broken heart, and no patience for a sexy new manager with an Ivy League pedigree and a strict set of rules. Macey prefers to break rules, something she lets Joshua Camden know from the start—even as he ignites a fire in her that goes beyond the hottest club in town.
Joshua is working the Devil’s Den for all it’s worth, learning everything he can about the adult-entertainment game before investing in a place of his own. Macey is a surprise: a woman as strong-willed as she is gorgeous. Joshua wants to get inside her world, to see through her eyes. But he soon discovers that seduction is a two-way street—and expecting redemption without risking his heart may be the greatest sin of all.
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Excerpt #1 (Jen’s Reading Obsession, Erotic Romance News, Books a Brewin, Read@Book Reviews)
I’ve heard enough; maybe I should take another week off and recover from my messy life before I try to make nice with the guy sitting at Henry’s old desk. Nope. Face on, baby. I march to the office and knock. At first no one answers, so I pound on the door again.
“Come in,” I hear.
I prance inside, ready to work some magic. Only not what I expected. In fact, I’m near speechless. I know clothes, including men’s fashion. That’s a charcoal tonal-stripe, two-piece Brioni suit hugging the broadest set of shoulders I’ve ever seen. I clear my throat, quickly reconsidering my approach.
I prance inside, ready to work some magic. Only he’s not what I expected. In fact, I’m near speechless. I know clothes, including men’s fashion. That’s a charcoal tonal-stripe, two-piece Brioni suit hugging the broadest set of shoulders I’ve ever seen. I clear my throat, quickly reconsidering my approach.
He doesn’t even bother looking up. “Never seen a man in a suit before, Ms. Taylor?”
How did he know my name and what I was thinking? Arrogant bastard. “Not behind Henry’s desk,” I answer, completely disarmed.
My gaze shoots around the familiar space. The old saloon artwork has been replaced with inspirational sport prints. I’m drawn to one in particular that features a football player sprinting with a ball in his hands. I snicker at the caption: strive—respect cannot be learned, purchased or acquired—it can only be earned.
“Do you find something humorous?” He finally looks up from his paperwork.
His emerald gaze is piercing. And I’m already crushing on this Jensen Ackles look-alike with a mane of unruly blond curls. “Yeah,” I snap. “Your ridiculous policies.” I instantly regret what I said. But talk about an icy welcome, he didn’t even say hello. Neither did you, I remind myself.
He studies me, making my insides squirm. “I’m fully aware of the problems most of the women have with the new rules.” He gestures to the guest chair nearest me. “Please, sit.”
“I’m also acquainted with your history, Ms. Taylor.” He thumbs through a stack of files, then pulls one from the pile, dropping it on top of his desk. “I’ve read your personnel file cover to cover.”
I’m not surprised. It’s pretty thick—like a paperback, really. “And?”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Are you familiar with the term charismatic leadership?”
I tap my chin. Is that what he thinks I am? “Many of history’s most effective leaders have been charismatic . . .”
“Yes,” he cuts me off. “I believe Charles Manson falls under the same category.”
What the hell? “Not that kind of killa,” I assure him, leaning forward. “And I’m not comfortable with what you’re insinuating.”
“And what’s that?” He places his elbows on the desk, then folds his hands.
“Didn’t they teach you any manners at that state school?” I ask, knowing full well he’s Ivy League. I hurriedly scan the wall behind him, sure his grad degree will be hanging there in a sterling silver or pewter frame. I know his type too well. “You look corn-fed. Iowa State University?”
He chuckles. “Now I’m the one who doesn’t know whether I should be offended or flattered.” He reclines in his chair. “I’m a Cornell graduate, Ms. Taylor.”
“Impressive,” I say. “How does that correlate with running off half the girls from the hottest club in Corpus?”
He ignores my question and instead, extends his hand. “Joshua Camden.”
Having just shed one pedigreed asshole, I’m in no hurry to meet another. But I take his hand anyway. “Charmed.”
Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Violetta Rand spent her childhood reading, writing, and playing soccer. After meeting her husband in New England, they moved to Alaska where she studied environmental science and policy as an undergraduate before attending graduate school. Violetta then spent nearly a decade working as an environmental scientist, specializing in soil and water contamination and environmental assessments.
Violetta still lives in Anchorage, Alaska and spends her days writing evocative New Adult romance and historical romance. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys time with her husband, pets, and friends. In her free time, she loves to hike, fish, and ride motorcycles and 4-wheelers.
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