What happens when the villain falls in love? Find out in Dark Promises by Winter Renshaw.
Read a #SneakPeek of this #99cent standalone!
Read a #SneakPeek of this #99cent standalone!
☆☆☆☆☆☆
Excerpt
I’m hunched over the bathroom sink, washing the day off my face, when there’s a knock at my door. It’s half past nine, so I opt to ignore it. Sometimes those pizza places sneak into our building and leave flyers under our doors, and sometimes they knock to get our attention.
Patting my face on a fluffy towel, I hear it again.
And again.
“Ugh.” Drying my hands, I pile my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and make my way to the door. Rising, I peek out to see who it is, not expecting to find Keir Montgomery on the other side. Yanking the door open, I rest a hand on one hip. “You’re trying wayyyy too hard. You know that, right?”
“Do you want me to f*ck you?” he asks. His eyes focus on mine, but he’s hunched over, his hand bracing himself against the frame of my door.
“What?” I half-laugh.
“Do you. Want me. To f*ck you?” he asks, clear as day.
My jaw falls. I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m wearing cotton granny panties and a holey t-shirt and this isn’t at all how I pictured it to be. Not to mention he’s clearly three sheets to the wind. The scent of expensive whiskey lingers between us as he towers over me.
“You’re drunk, Keir. Go home,” I say, trying to shut the door.
He forces his way past me, and I don’t try to fight him. He’s at least six-two with a mountain of muscles that strain the fabric of his impeccable suit coat.
“Not cool,” I say, holding my spot by the door and keeping it propped open. His agents stand outside in the hall. Always waiting, watching.
I don’t think I could ever get used to that.
Never being able to go anywhere alone.
“Answer the question,” he says, almost slurring. “Do you want me to f*ck you or not?”
My jaw loosens. “I did … but that was last week. And you’re drunk. I highly doubt it would be enjoyable for me—in your current condition—if I’m being honest.”
There’s a fire in his indigo irises. I’ve clearly offended him.
Or challenged him.
Not quite sure yet.
“Are you f*cking kidding me?” he asks, striding toward me like a man on a mission. His hand cups my jaw, the pad of this thumb grazing my lower lip. My arms fall, releasing the door, and it slams shut. “I can promise you, even if I were f*cking comatose, I could still f*ck you better than anyone else.”
His words send an electric charge to my heart.
This … this was what I came for that night at Goldsmith.
This is who I wanted.
The man whore, give-no-shits Keir Montgomery. Someone who could make me feel it all, make me forget the outside world for just one uninhibited night.
His gaze falls to my mouth, and I find myself unable to move, utterly transfixed as I try and wrap my mind around what’s going on.
“Give yourself to me,” he says. “One night, just like you wanted. And after this, I’ll never bother you again.”
"Promise?"
Patting my face on a fluffy towel, I hear it again.
And again.
“Ugh.” Drying my hands, I pile my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and make my way to the door. Rising, I peek out to see who it is, not expecting to find Keir Montgomery on the other side. Yanking the door open, I rest a hand on one hip. “You’re trying wayyyy too hard. You know that, right?”
“Do you want me to f*ck you?” he asks. His eyes focus on mine, but he’s hunched over, his hand bracing himself against the frame of my door.
“What?” I half-laugh.
“Do you. Want me. To f*ck you?” he asks, clear as day.
My jaw falls. I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m wearing cotton granny panties and a holey t-shirt and this isn’t at all how I pictured it to be. Not to mention he’s clearly three sheets to the wind. The scent of expensive whiskey lingers between us as he towers over me.
“You’re drunk, Keir. Go home,” I say, trying to shut the door.
He forces his way past me, and I don’t try to fight him. He’s at least six-two with a mountain of muscles that strain the fabric of his impeccable suit coat.
“Not cool,” I say, holding my spot by the door and keeping it propped open. His agents stand outside in the hall. Always waiting, watching.
I don’t think I could ever get used to that.
Never being able to go anywhere alone.
“Answer the question,” he says, almost slurring. “Do you want me to f*ck you or not?”
My jaw loosens. “I did … but that was last week. And you’re drunk. I highly doubt it would be enjoyable for me—in your current condition—if I’m being honest.”
There’s a fire in his indigo irises. I’ve clearly offended him.
Or challenged him.
Not quite sure yet.
“Are you f*cking kidding me?” he asks, striding toward me like a man on a mission. His hand cups my jaw, the pad of this thumb grazing my lower lip. My arms fall, releasing the door, and it slams shut. “I can promise you, even if I were f*cking comatose, I could still f*ck you better than anyone else.”
His words send an electric charge to my heart.
This … this was what I came for that night at Goldsmith.
This is who I wanted.
The man whore, give-no-shits Keir Montgomery. Someone who could make me feel it all, make me forget the outside world for just one uninhibited night.
His gaze falls to my mouth, and I find myself unable to move, utterly transfixed as I try and wrap my mind around what’s going on.
“Give yourself to me,” he says. “One night, just like you wanted. And after this, I’ll never bother you again.”
"Promise?"
☆☆☆☆☆☆
MORE ABOUT DARK PROMISES
I have a secret …
I don’t care if you like me or not.
Insatiable lust for power and control runs thick in my veins. My father served as President of the United States of America—and his father before him. Montgomerys are born to lead and rule, to fear nothing and cower to no one, to make allegiances, not friends.
But I digress.
With a senate campaign about to launch and presidential aspirations at fever-pitch intensity, imagine my dismay when my strategist tells me I need to “settle down” with a “nice girl” in order to appeal to my constituents. Enter Rowan Aldridge, a head-turning stunner with a charm school walk, Jackie O. refinement, and a well-connected family.
She’s perfect.
So I’ll do what I have to do, make her believe what I need her to believe, and as soon as the campaign’s over and I’ve secured my senatorial seat, I’ll release my pretty little butterfly back into the wild.
But this isn’t about all of that.
This is what happens when a villain falls in love.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dark Promises is a full-length standalone romance and a spin-off of Dark Paradise. You do NOT need to read Dark Paradise first. However, for a limited time, I've included Dark Paradise + Bachelor, books in which the hero of this book has showcased his delicious villainy. :-) All books are full-length standalones. Rest assured that if Dark Promises ends around 30%, it is still a full-length novel.
I have a secret …
I don’t care if you like me or not.
Insatiable lust for power and control runs thick in my veins. My father served as President of the United States of America—and his father before him. Montgomerys are born to lead and rule, to fear nothing and cower to no one, to make allegiances, not friends.
But I digress.
With a senate campaign about to launch and presidential aspirations at fever-pitch intensity, imagine my dismay when my strategist tells me I need to “settle down” with a “nice girl” in order to appeal to my constituents. Enter Rowan Aldridge, a head-turning stunner with a charm school walk, Jackie O. refinement, and a well-connected family.
She’s perfect.
So I’ll do what I have to do, make her believe what I need her to believe, and as soon as the campaign’s over and I’ve secured my senatorial seat, I’ll release my pretty little butterfly back into the wild.
But this isn’t about all of that.
This is what happens when a villain falls in love.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dark Promises is a full-length standalone romance and a spin-off of Dark Paradise. You do NOT need to read Dark Paradise first. However, for a limited time, I've included Dark Paradise + Bachelor, books in which the hero of this book has showcased his delicious villainy. :-) All books are full-length standalones. Rest assured that if Dark Promises ends around 30%, it is still a full-length novel.
NOW #99cents & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!!!
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Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
Winter is represented by Jill Marsal at Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.
Follow Winter Renshaw on Amazon HERE
Winter is represented by Jill Marsal at Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.
Follow Winter Renshaw on Amazon HERE
