Please help me welcome Author Cheryl Douglas to my blog today!
Deacon
Starkis
Family
Book
1
Cheryl
Douglas
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Date of Publication: June 15th,
2015
ISBN:
ASIN:
Number of pages: 158
Word Count: 74k
Cover Artist: Fantasia Frog Designs
Book Description:
When Deacon Sarkis sets his sights
on the gorgeous young model gracing the pages of his glossy catalogue, he knows
he has to have her. One problem. She’s not available. But that won’t stop
Deacon. He’s a man used to getting what he wants and he wants Mia.
Mia is stunned when she receives an
email from the elusive billionaire who owns the lingerie company she models
for. He tells her he’s intrigued. He’s not the only one. But she knows she’d be
a fool to throw away an eight year relationship for a brief affair with the head
honcho. He doesn’t do relationships and she doesn’t do casual sex. It seems
they’re at an impasse.
Who will come out on top in this
battle of wills? The dominant one or the woman intent on teaching him the
meaning of submission?
Excerpt 1:
With
the launch party at the forefront of my mind, I made my way downstairs to
wardrobe.
Half
a dozen women turned, gaping at me. I rarely made personal selections for my
models, but I
didn’t
think my presence warranted such stunned silence.
“Good
afternoon, ladies,” I said, trying to hide my amusement.
“Hello,
Mr. Starkis,” one of the women stammered. “How can we help you?”
“I’m
here about the fashion show this weekend.”
She
gestured toward several hanging racks. “Everything’s taken care of, sir. You’re
welcome
to have a look at the samples. They’re right over there.”
“I’d
like to see what Mia Barnes will be wearing.”
Two
women exchanged curious glances before one said, “Of course, Mr. Starkis. I’ll
get
those
selections right away.”
I
barely noticed the gorgeous models milling about half-naked, being fitted for
the upcoming
show.
Many were trying to get my attention, smiling or giving me sultry looks as they
met my
eyes
in the full-length mirror. They had been hand-selected for their talent and
beauty, but none
were
Mia, therefore none held my attention for long.
“Here
they are,” the harried, middle-aged woman with the blond bob and pixie skirt
said. “I
think
these will look fabulous on Mia.” She laughed. “I’ve worked in this business a
long time, and I can tell you it’s rare to find a model who looks amazing in
everything she tries on. Most
have
some flaw they wish to hide, but not our Mia.”
I
smiled tightly. Our Mia? Wrong. She was my
Mia. “I’m sure you’re right, but that
one
won’t
work,” I said, pointing at the lavender silk bra and matching panties on the
white satin
hanger.
“Next.”
Looking
stricken, the woman said, “But—”
“It’s
lovely…?”
“Barbara.”
“It’s
lovely, Barbara. Just not what I have in mind for Mia. May I see the next one?”
She
held up a black lace bustier with a matching thong, looking apprehensive. She
had every
reason
to be nervous. The only time I expected to see Mia parading around wearing that
was
when
she was modeling it for me.
“I
want her to model the bridal collection.” I knew that was sexy yet demure.
“The
bridal collection?” Barbara seemed stunned by my request.
“Is
there a problem?”
“Um,
no, but with Eleni’s darker coloring, I thought she would be perfect for the
bridal
collection.”
“You
thought wrong,” I said, pinning her with a stare that brooked no argument.
“Switch
them.
Eleni can wear these.” I gestured toward the pieces Mia had been slotted to
wear. “Mia
will
model the bridal collection.”
“Of course,
Mr. Starkis. Anything you say, sir.”
Excerpt 2:
I
stared at my reflection. “I don’t understand, Barbara. I thought Eleni was
supposed to be
modeling
the bridal collection.”
She
pinned the white bustier until my full breasts spilled over the top. Then she
artfully
arranged
the white sheer robe so it revealed just enough of her handiwork to be enticing
without
looking
trashy. “What the boss wants, the boss gets. Even if it means we have to lose
sleep to get
these
damn alterations done on time.”
“Remind
me to give you a raise, Barbara.”
I
turned so fast that the pin Barbara was holding jabbed me in the thigh, but I
barely noticed.
It was him. Oh God. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to pass out right
there.
“Mr.
Starkis,” Barbara said, a blush stealing over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I
didn’t hear you
come
in.”
“I’d
like a moment alone with Miss Barnes, Barbara.” He gave her a pointed stare
before he
said,
“I’ll try not to keep her too long. I understand you’re on a tight schedule.”
She
lowered her head before gathering her measuring tape and pins. “No problem,
take all
the
time you need.”
He
waited until Barbara had closed the door and we were alone before he whispered,
“Theia,
you
look breathtaking.”
I
still didn’t know what theia
meant, and I was beyond irritated to be
meeting him under
these
circumstances, especially armed with the knowledge about his penchant for young
models.
Closing
the gap in the sheer robe, I tried to stare him down, but it wasn’t easy. Even
standing
on a pedestal and wearing four-inch heels, I was still slightly shorter than he
was.
“We
meet at last.” He stepped closer and ran a fingertip over my cheek. “You’re
even more
beautiful
in person than I imagined you would be.”
His
accent was more pronounced than it had been over the phone and sent delicious
chills up
my
spine in spite of my annoyance at my body’s betrayal.
His
bright blue eyes flashed with irritation. “You are annoyed with me. Again?”
“I’m
not having this conversation here.” I looked around, wondering if he’d seduced
other
women
in that very room. “I’m working. Kindly leave.”
His
irritation blossomed into anger. “I own this goddamn building. No one tells me
when to
leave.”
Oh. Feeling properly chastised, I did the only thing I could. I
turned away from him and
fixed
all my attention on the mirror in front of me.
He
walked around me in a slow circle, his hand rubbing the dark stubble on his
square jaw.
“Mmmm,
this looks even better than I imagined it would. It’s so easy to imagine
unwrapping
you on our
wedding night.”
Excerpt 3:
I
barged into Deacon’s office at eight o’clock that evening. Since his silver
Lamborghini
was
one of the few cars left in the parking lot, I wasn’t too concerned about
interrupting a
meeting.
He
looked up from his computer when I stormed in, and a smile quickly replaced his
scowl.
“They
let you in without clearance?”
I
plopped down in the seat across from him, trying not to notice how tempting he
looked
with
his sleeves rolled up and no tie on. “The receptionist who usually guards your
castle left for
the
day, and the security guard at the front desk has a crush on me, so he didn’t
ask any
questions.”
He
frowned. “Which security guard is that?”
I
spotted a stress ball on the corner of his desk. I doubted he used it; it
looked like a promo
item
Alabaster’s gave away. I whipped it at his chest. “You’re not serious.”
He
laughed, catching the ball before it hit him. “You have a pretty good arm.”
“Shut
up, Deacon!” The nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me I was talking
to
my
boss, but I told her to mind her own goddamn business and go back to sleep.
“I’m pissed at
you.”
He
leaned back, kicking his feet up on the desk as he tossed the ball from one
hand to the
other
and squeezed it. “Do tell.”
“You
told Eleni about us.”
“So?”
“So
you had no right to do that!”
He
seemed totally unfazed by my anger, which only incensed me further.
“She’s
my friend. I should have been the one to tell her, when—or if—I decided there
was
anything
worth telling her.” That got his attention.
When
he pinned me with that hot gaze, I feared he would demand I bend over the desk
and
take
my punishment like a brave girl.
“I
asked you not to tell anyone, including Eleni. You didn’t, and I appreciate
that. Now that
you’re
single, I’ve decided it’s time your best friend know about our… relationship.”
The
way he said relationship made me feel as though he had been seeking a different
word
but
come up short. Arrangement, perhaps? Was that what this was to him?
Not
willing to let him have the last word, I said, “We’re not in a relationship.
We’re still
getting
to know each other. If I like what I see, I might
agree to date you, though not
exclusively.
I’ve
been tied down too long to get serious again so soon.” I swallowed, averting my
eyes when
the
thin skin across his knuckles turned white from the pressure he was inflicting
on the ball.
“Let
me get this straight. You might
agree to date me—though not
exclusively?”
I
was almost afraid to push him further, but if I backed down, that would set a
precedent for
all
future arguments. “That’s right. If you have a problem with that, we can part
ways now and—
”
He
planted his feet on the floor and made his way around the desk slowly, like a
panther
preparing
to devour its prey. He gripped the armrests of my chair, his face a fraction of
an inch
from
mine. I held my breath—waiting, praying, and trying to predict what he might do
next.
Pushing
him had been a very bad idea.
“You really
think that’s an option?” he whispered.
About
the Author:
When one door closes, another one
opens. I closed the door to my business for the last time in 2011, which left
me with a decision. What now? Find another location and move my nutrition
business, go to work for someone else, or take a chance on my dream? I chose
the latter and I’ve never looked back!
I’ve always loved reading and
writing, but it wasn’t until I jumped in with both feet and decided writing
would be my career, instead of just a hobby, that my muse woke up from her deep
slumber.
It was like someone flipped a
switch inside my head and stories just came pouring out. At the end of the day,
I would often look at the keyboard and wonder, ‘Who the heck wrote that? ‘Cause
I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me!’
I don’t write books. I tell
stories, or rather, I allow my characters to tell their stories through me. I’m
not a plotter, never have been, never will be. Why? Because I have no idea how
the story will evolve and it’s not my place to manipulate it. My job is to get
to know these characters, figure out what makes them tick, then follow their
journey wherever it takes me.
When I’m not writing, I’m
daydreaming. Thankfully, I have an understanding husband and son who know I’ll
re-join the land of the living just as soon as my muse decides it’s quitting
time. I don’t work for myself. I work for her. She’s the boss. And I’m okay
with that.
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Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce
