MANWHORE
+ 1 by Katy Evans
EXCERPT
FOUR WEEKS
I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine
glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along
with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my
mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I
smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My
riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding
up to the executive floor on my own.
Toward him.
Toward
the man I love.
My body
is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my
thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just
won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor.
Stepping
out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass,
marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the
tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room.
Framing those doors to each side is a
pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four.
Behind
these desks are four women in identical black-and-white suits, sitting behind
their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen
computers.
One of
them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns
every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches
her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her
desk and murmurs my name into it.
I. Am.
Not. Breathing.
But
Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted
doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man
in Chicago.
The human
being with the most powerful effect on me.
This is
what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a
thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand
others that I left unsent. To see him.
For him
to want to see me.
But as I
force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to
stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did.
I’m
wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but
bright, even as I shake like a leaf.
Catherine
holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his
office.
Two
steps inside I hear the swoosh of the
glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the
most beautiful office I’ve ever been in.
His
office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless
floor-to-ceiling windows.
And there
he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world.
He’s
pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he
uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches …
He hangs up, and as if he feels me in
the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes.
His
achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes.
He
inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his
sides as he looks at me.
I look
back at him.
Malcolm
Kyle Preston Logan Saint.
I just
walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A
hurricane.
Four
weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger
than life, and more irresistible than ever.
His
striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly
full I can almost feel them against mine. Six-feet-plus of perfectly controlled
male power stand before me, in a perfect black suit and a killer tie. He’s the
very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those
penetrating eyes.
He’s got
the best eyes.
They
twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re
mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about
his thoughts.
But I had
forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me
now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards.
He
clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside.
He looks as approachable as a wall, his
shoulders stretching his white shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie.
But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like
this.
He’s
walking towards me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with
that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his.
He stops
a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so
big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I
walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.
For every sin there is a sinner!
Manwhore + 1 is now available for pre-order
at the following retailers:
Pre-order Now:
PRE-ORDER SURPRISE!
Submit your proof of
pre-order and get an early peek at Ms. Manwhore, the last of Saint and Rachel's
passionate love story. Click here to enter: http://www.katyevans.net/pre-order-bonus/
Blurb
The unexpected love story that began in MANWHORE continues
heating up the pages in MANWHORE +1 by New York Times bestselling author Katy
Evans...
Billionaire playboy? Check.
Ruthless businessman? Check.
Absolutely sinful? Check.
Malcolm Saint was an
assignment. A story. A beautiful, difficult man I was supposed to uncover for a
racy exposé.
I intended to reveal him,
his secrets, his lifestyle--not let him reveal me. But my head was overtaken by
my heart and suddenly nothing could stop me from falling. I fell for him, and I
fell hard.
Malcolm Saint is absolute
Sin, and I've become a hopeless Sinner.
Now that the assignment is
over, Saint wants something from me--something unexpected--and I want this
wicked playboy's heart. But how can I prove to the man who trusts no one that
I'm worthy of becoming his plus one?
Manwhore (Book One)
Now Available
About the Author:
Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and
love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking,
walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending
your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with
it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up
on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!
Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com
THANK
YOU!
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