Storm Damages
Page 25
About the Author
Magda Alexander loves piña coladas and walks in the rain. Okay, enough of that. Rewind.
Magda loves reading steamy romances which she’s been doing since she was ten. Ummm, that’s not quite true. Steamy romances did not exist when she was ten, and if they had, she’s pretty sure her mother would not have allowed her to read them. She did read the hand-holding, longing glances kind, along with her catechism, which got her into trouble more than once. Mother Superior was not amused.
Anyhoo, as soon as sexy romances came into existence, thank you Rosemary Rodgers, she’s been lapping them up. So when it came time to write one, guess what she wrote. A no-brainer, right?
If you’re still with me, thank you for reading STORM DAMAGES (Storm Legacy Book One)! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help other people find this book by: 1. Writing a review at Amazon and Goodreads; 2. Signing up for my new releases e-mail (see below) so you can find out about the next book as soon as it's available; and 3. Liking my Facebook Author page (also below) so I can tell you about my next book. Is there an echo in here?
P.S. Magda really does like piña coladas and walks in the rain, along with . . . Oh, why bore you with all the details. You can read about them on her Facebook Author page.
Visit Magda Alexander website at: http://magdaalexander.com
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Acknowledgments
No writer succeeds on her own. If she’s lucky, she’ll encounter many helping hands along her journey. I’ve been singularly blessed by, first and foremost, my critique group, the Crit Divas, Sariah Aarons, Lexa Chase, Lula Diamond, Teresa Hearl, and our fearless leader, Loni Lynne. Without them, this book would not exist. Second, I’m grateful for the sisterhood of the Maryland Romance Writers whose support through the last four years helped me believe that yes, I can write a romance novel. Last, but not least, to the hundreds of teachers (and I do mean hundreds) who taught me the craft of writing, I offer my gratitude. Without you, I wouldn’t have learned what it takes to write an opening sentence, much less an entire book. My love and everlasting thanks to each of you.
Excerpt from Storm Damages 2
Washington, D.C.
September 30
Elizabeth
Three months have gone by without the taste of Gabriel Storm in my mouth, the scent of his skin in my nostrils, the rush of his powerful body pounding into mine. In a few minutes, he’ll arrive for the closing of the SouthWind deal. Given an option, I would have scheduled a vacation, preferably one on the dark side of the moon. But I’m responsible for the closing documents and my presence is required. So here I stand, breathless with anxiety, heart pounding with anticipation.
This is not good for the child I carry. His child. Gabriel Storm’s, the powerful COO of Storm Industries. Does he know I’m pregnant? I never told him, even though I had numerous opportunities to do so. But his sister knew and she probably shared the news with him.
He’s made no attempt to communicate with me since that stormy summer night. No phone calls, no emails, not even a text. I don’t blame him, not really. What else could he do after I admitted to betraying him? It isn’t true, of course. I would never do such a thing.
“You look like you’re about to pass out. Are you okay?” CeCe. My rock. I don’t know what I would have done without her in the last three months. She covered for me while I puked in the bathroom, answered my innumerable questions about pregnancy and childbirth, and most of all listened when I poured out my misery.
“Yes.” I’m not, but fake it ‘til you make it. Right?
“Here.” She hands me a water bottle. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” I unscrew the top, guzzle half the bottle. The cold liquid feels good going down, and it gives my hands something to do besides shake.
A rustle of excitement outside the glass-enclosed conference room draws my attention. Many of the women from the law firm, and some of the men, have found an excuse to hang outside. They laugh, giggle. Oh, please. Don’t they have anything better to do? When Mr. Carrey frowns at them, some disperse but most remain right where they are.
And then Mr. Carrey’s new secretary is walking down the hallway toward the conference room, ahead of two people. One is Miranda Stone, Vice President of Acquisitions at Storm Industries, and the other ...
I stop breathing.
He’s allowed his hair to grow. That fabulous kissed-by-the-sun golden mane reaches his shoulders now. When he walks into the conference room, his glance bounces around the room, landing on no one in particular. As ever, his gaze mesmerizes me. Was there a time when I wasn’t fascinated by those gorgeous ocean-blue eyes of his? He’s wearing one of his killer two-piece suits, a dark blue one which caresses his broad shoulders and showcases his powerful legs to perfection.
He is the same. And yet, he’s not.
He no longer walks with that smooth, sexy gait of his, but with a stutter step as he leans on a walking stick. Lines groove his face. He’s suffering, that much is clear. Even though the tabloids looked under every rock and hounded him for weeks, not much is known about the accident that caused his injury, but clearly it caused major damage, to his right leg at the very least.
When somebody comments about the cane, he jokes about his limp. Apparently, a tree ran into him during a skiing trip. But I spot something in the depths of his eyes that tells me he’s lying. Something else caused that injury.
Mr. Carrey steps up to him, shakes his hand and that of Gabriel’s VP before leading them around the room to reacquaint them with the members of the Smith Cannon team, Terry, Brian, Mark.
Me.
“And you remember Elizabeth Watson,” Mr. Carrey says.
Elizabeth, just like our queen. The words Gabriel spoke so long ago, accompanied by that panty-melting grin of his, echo in my head. Please say my first name. The way you used to, when you were so deep in me you stole my heart.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Watson.”
My heart lurches because the glance he directs at me displays neither love, nor hate, but a careless indifference, as if I mean less than nothing to him.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Storm Damages 2