American
Queen by Sierra Simone
Release
Date: October 25th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Hang Le
Synopsis
It starts with a stolen kiss under an English
sky, and it ends with a walk down the aisle. It starts with the President
sending his best friend to woo me on his behalf, and it ends with my heart
split in two. It starts with buried secrets and dangerous desires…and ends with
the three of us bound together with a hateful love sharper than any barbed
wire.
My name is Greer Galloway, and I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States.
This is the story of an American Queen.
My name is Greer Galloway, and I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States.
This is the story of an American Queen.
Excerpt
“I kept thinking about what
I wanted to give you today for our wedding day, and honestly, Greer, there
isn’t really anything I couldn’t give you. Jewelry or exotic
vacations or rare editions of the books you love, anything I could have dreamed
of, I could get for you—but they were just things. I
didn’t want to get you a thing for a curio cabinet or a jewelry
box. I wanted to give you something that you could carry with you
through our new life together. Something that would make you a
promise.”
The best man’s hand brushes
up against my stocking-covered ankle and I gasp.
“What is it, princess?”
Ash's low voice comes over the phone line.
“Embry…I mean, Ash,
I—" I can't find the words just then, because Embry’s hand
slides up my calf and everything stops. My thoughts, my feelings, my
guilt—my world shrinks to Ash’s voice on the phone and the fingers moving past
my knee and Embry’s face, so controlled. But lust and anger and determination
are fissuring across that control, and I can see his wide pupils and the pulse
pounding in his neck and the trembling of his lips.
What is
happening? I think distantly to
myself. What am I letting happen…and all while I’m on the phone with
my soon-to-be husband?
And then the world slams
back into motion, and I make a strangled noise, stumbling backwards, away from
Embry. He starts to stand and come toward me, and I hold out one of
my hands, moving backwards until my back is pressed against the
floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the skyline.
Embry looks down at my
shaking hand and then back up to me, those fissures in his control now full-on
fractures, and he says, “Greer…”
“Don’t test me,” I whisper,
not sure if I'm whispering to the groom or the best man. “Don’t test
me like this.”
This isn't
happening. I missed a connection somewhere, misunderstood something
vital, because there is no way, no fucking way, that Ash is
offering his best friend to me as some sort of wedding present. This
is my wishful thinking turned toxic, this is my darkest fantasies turning into
delusion—
“I want you to let Embry
give you my gift,” Ash tells me. “While I listen. That’s
what you’ll give me in exchange: every single moan, pant and cry will be for
me.”
“You can’t be saying what I
think you’re saying,” I say.
"Oh, don't worry,
angel. I'll get something out of this for me too."
I hear the dark roughness
in his voice and I realize I'm so very, very wet.
“Close your eyes,” Ash
orders.
I do, my panting somehow
louder in my head when I can't see anything. The glass window
against my back is cool and strong, just like Ash’s words in my ear.
“I know you’re
wet. I know it like I know Embry is hard right now, just from the
mere thought of touching you. You want it, don’t you? You
want it so much that you’re shaking with the effort it’s taking to hold
yourself back.”
“But I don’t want to
hurt you.” It's my final plea, my final argument, my final grasp at
some semblance of sanity. My skirts are almost up at my waist now,
and I know the moment Embry catches sight of my delicate, hand-embroidered
French panties because he takes in a sharp breath, as if punched in the gut.
“It all hurts,” Ash
says. “It hurts watching you two watching each other. It
hurts watching him with other people. There’s no part about this
that doesn’t hurt, but what’s the alternative? Living without the
pain means living without each other.”
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About Sierra
Sierra
Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time
reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and
family in Kansas City
Stalk Sierra Here
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