“Will you marry me, Sasha?”
Sasha gasped softly. A flash of happiness surged through her; but she shook her head at him, smiling weakly. He’d almost lost her in a fire nearly the same way that his father had died. He was speaking from vulnerability, from his fear. That wasn’t any way to start a life together. At least it didn’t seem that way to her.
“A hospital room is not the proper place to ask me something like that,” she murmured, keeping the smile on her face. “Not to mention your mind is in a crazy place right now. Wait until I’m on my feet again. If you’re still feeling like this after a few weeks, ask me again.”
Damien stared at her in astonishment, eyes wide, mouth falling open. With that look on his face, his hair messy and in need of a cut, his unplanned beard, he looked so unlike his usual sure and confident self. She clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed.
He scowled at her, but only nodded, dropping his head down so his ear pressed against her heart through the hospital gown while his earthy, masculine smell soothed Sasha’s senses. They lay quietly together, and simply breathed.
Epilogue
Iron Fist took to the practice track like a champion. Sasha patted the gray gelding’s neck, murmuring congratulatory nonsense as she rode him at a trot toward the trainer who waited by the low, white fence. The trainer, Emilio Vasquez was filling in for Linc who was taking the day off. The thin, dark haired man nodded as she dismounted.
“He’s looking good,” he said. Unlike Linc, who preferred pen and paper, Emilio made all his notes on an iPad. He made a notation on the tablet then slipped it into the pouch slung over his shoulder.
“He is,” Sasha agreed with the trainer’s assessment. “I’m sure he’ll be ready for the next Breeders Cup.”
Emilio took Iron Fist’s reigns. “We’ll see,” he said.
“Linc and—”
The arrival of one of the interns down the dirt path leading from the stables stopped the rest of what Sasha was going to say. “Ms. Cormick!”
“Yes?” She turned to look at the slender brown girl, her hair pulled back in two Afro puffs.
“Mr. Taylor wants to see you right away.”
Sasha’s heart flew into her throat. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.” The intern shrugged. “He just said to come right away. He’s on the back porch of the main house.”
“Okay.” She turned to Emilio. “I’ll be right back.”
“Of course, take as long as you need.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Sasha stroke quickly down the path in the direction the intern had gone. She hoped nothing was wrong. There should be nothing wrong. In the three weeks since she’d been out of the hospital, she’d recovered almost completely from her kidnapping and smoke inhalation. The bruises were gone. Except for the occasional cough, she had recovered from that night as if it had never been. Even the nightmares had come and gone, due to the nights she spent in Damien’s sheltering arms. Things were so good in her life, so good between them that she had a vague terror of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to appear out of the blue and snatch her new-found happiness away.
On a good day, it would take her almost twenty minutes to walk to the house from the stables, but she ran, making it there in barely fifteen minutes. The back porch of the large house was barely used. At times, Damien would sit out there with a glass of whiskey and recover from his day. Sometimes, it functioned as part of the setup for a lawn party. Sasha had recently discovered that it was a comfortable place to spend a late Saturday afternoon, a place where she could sit on the bench swing with her love and talk about everything, anything, and nothing.
As she turned the corner of the large stone house, Sasha saw that there were at least a dozen people on the wide porch. It looked like a party. She noticed with surprise that there were people there she knew. Michelle, a couple of the other jockeys, and Linc, who was supposed to be taking the day off. Then there was Damien’s mother, who she’d met almost two weeks before. Mrs. Taylor sat in the porch swing sipping lemonade as she talked with a man her age. Everyone had a drink in their hand as they chatted with each other. An impromptu afternoon gathering, she assumed since Damien hadn’t told her about it. Her racing heart slowed down. Nothing was wrong. She smiled in relief. Nothing was wrong.
As she walked up the steps of the porch with a greeting and a smile for everyone, a murmur moved through the group, and then the door to the house opened. Damien came out looking relaxed in gray slacks and a white buttoned up shirt opened at the throat. She went to him immediately.
“What’s the emergency, love?” she asked.
“No emergency. I just wanted to make sure you were properly on your feet.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, slipped an arm around her waist. “You must be. You got here fast.”
“I thought there was something wrong,” she said. “I’m glad there isn’t.”
“Nothing is wrong, darling. In fact, everything is just right.” He pressed her briefly to his side then walked with her to the center of the porch.
Was it her imagination or was everyone giving them room?
Damien pulled away slightly from her. “I sent Theresa to get you because I wanted to ask you something very important.” He looked up at his mother then to nearly everyone gathered around them. “In front of my family and our friends, Sasha Cormick.” Damien reached into his pocket and took out a small velvet box. Dropped to one knee. “I am asking you to marry me.” He opened the box, revealing a glittering diamond ring.
She drew a startled breath, her hands flying to her mouth. “Are you serious?”
“I am. I was serious the last time too.” Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there was a vague shadow of unease in Damien’s eyes. Real fear, Sasha realized, that she would turn him down. She bit the inside of her lip, tenderness for him welling inside her. She touched his handsome face.
“I’ll be honored to accept your proposal, Damien Taylor.”
Happiness flashed across his eyes as loud cheers and applause exploded all around them. Damien slid the ring onto her finger, grinning widely. It was a perfect fit. He rose to his feet and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.
“Thank you,” he murmured, holding her close. “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible.”
As he echoed the words in her heart, Sasha clung to him, feeling truly like a winner for the very first time.
The End
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The Surrender Series Character Interview #1
A character interview from Priscilla West’s highly anticipated Surrender Series!
Welcome Kristen. Thank you for agreeing to do this interview.
*smiles brightly* Thank you for having me.
Let me get straight to the hardballs. Vincent’s a gorgeous CEO with nipple rings and tats. Why on earth would you turn him down? Are you okay in your brain?
*nearly chokes on saliva and coughs* Vincent is a potential client for my employer. My interest in him is having Waterbridge-Howser effectively manage his personal assets. If we have any type of relationship, it’s a professional one. I would appreciate it if you kept the questions professional as well.
You pinched his nipple.
*blushes furiously* That was a complete accident! I was handing him supporting documents during our first meeting and I happened to trip over my heels and fall into his lap. That was not on purpose. No way. I’d never do that on purpose. Nope.
That explains the fall but it doesn’t explain the N-I-P-P-L-E pinching.
I felt something odd when I landed in his lap and my palms flattened against his rock hard chest. It was something that shouldn’t have belonged there. C’mon. When you know something’s off you’re saying you don’t try
to see what it is?
My husband was spending a lot of late nights at work and I found out he was having an affair with the secretary. I punched that bitch in the face.
Yeah, exactly. I mean. . . no. Wait. What did you just say?
Not important. Moving on. So tell me what was your impression of Vincent after your meeting in Cape Town?
I honestly don’t know what to think. Richard and I had spent weeks practicing and rehearsing our pitch. We really wanted to land Vincent. But it’s hard to read the guy. He wasn’t at all what we thought. Much more serious. Much more business-minded. Shrewd. Intimidating. Fuckable. Clever. Demanding. Confident. Skilled. Not at all the surfer bum we thought he was.
You just said he was ‘fuckable’.
No I didn’t. I said ‘implacable’. He’s a difficult person to please.
Okay, sure. So if Vincent asked you out, would you go for it?
I don’t date potential clients. That would be disastrous for my career. Office politics would be like elephants at a water hole. Besides, I haven’t dated in 2 years.
Why not?
Personal reasons. Very personal. So let’s just leave it at that.
Okay. That’s all the questions I have. Thank you for your time!
Thank you!
Reviews for the Surrender Series (4.5 out of 5 stars on Amazon.com):
“This is book one of the Surrender Series...and OMG it will most definitely leave you wanting more! A definite to add to your ebook library!!!”
- Kirstie (On GoodReads)
“I absolutely loved the book from the beginning and as you start reading it you just know that it is going to be great. The main characters of Kristen and Vincent are well written are so real and you are drawn into them from the beginning. The chemistry between is intense and you just know from the first meeting that things are going to heat up.”
- Samantha Johnson
Forbidden Surrender (Book One) – Available Now!
Secret Surrender (Book Two) – Available Now!
Beautiful Surrender (Final Book) – Release Date: November 4th, 2013
Click the links above to meet the deliciously sexy Vincent Sorenson.
He’s waiting for you…
Bound by Fate
by Sherilyn Gray
She is a woman without a name and without a past. Two years ago, she woke up on the streets of San Francisco, alone, lost, and without her memories. Her life has been a constant struggle for survival. When she is offered an opportunity for a new life in the household of the wealthy and scorchingly hot Victor Draper, she accepts it without hesitation. Nothing can be worse than living on the streets. She is given food, a warm place to sleep, and even a name: Dove.
In her new life, Dove must clean, cook, and... surrender herself to Victor's every desire. Dove finds the entire situation strange, but giving her body to most eligible bachelor in the world can hardly be considered a sacrifice.
Unlike Dove, Victor is a man who tried to bury his past in the deepest hole that money could buy. When Dove's contract with Victor becomes more... complicated, his demons resurface to threaten their budding relationship.
Will their passion for each other be able to overcome Victor's past? And even if they do, an even greater question awaits: what will they do when Dove begins to recover her memories?
*Warning: This book contains explicit BDSM scenes and is written for adults only.*
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Chapter One
“She has really pretty skin,” whispered a dark-haired girl to a lighter-haired one.
Well, this was just a bit weird.
The curious eyes of about a dozen young women stared back at me, assessing me as I stood at the front of the room with my back to the door. Some were standing barefoot on the plush red carpet, some were reclined in ornately decorated lounges and chairs neatly arranged about the room. There were no windows, only lush green walls. The sight of a new girl probably worked well enough for a view.
When they finally took their fill of my appearance, they either glanced away or talked in hushed voices with one another.
I looked down at my small, white full slip. It was the same slip that the other women in the room wore. Being a little bit too big for me, the cloth hung awkwardly on my shoulders, but the material was soft and warm. I picked at it with my fingers, not really knowing what to do with myself.
I decided to sit down next to a young woman about my age while I waited. At least, she looked to be. I had the urge to ask her, but the sour expression on her face let me know she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Sighing, I stared back down at my hands. They had been scrubbed until my skin turned pink, and they still tingled from the soap. When was the last time they had been so clean? Glancing around, the other women were just as clean, their bodies appearing smooth and pristine. Had they been as dirty as I had been?
I leaned my head back against the wall behind me and closed my eyes. The night that dark car came and brought me here seemed like an eternity ago, but it was only last night, and one of the coldest nights in the city to boot...
It had taken me most of that afternoon to scope out a place that hadn’t already been staked out by other people; the alleys and eaves of abandoned, but locked, buildings were in places I wouldn’t dare stay the night, unless I wanted to be found dead and frozen over the next morning. It had been raining for much of the day, and the clothes I wore—sweatpants three sizes too big for me, and an old sweatshirt from a high school I’ve never heard of—were soggy after trudging through puddles and rain showers.
This had pretty much been the daily routine for me for the past two years, ever since I woke up in the doorway of a closed laundromat at the dead of night with no memory of how I got there, or who I even was. I had been stumbling around the streets of San Francisco fighting for my survival ever since.
At first I tried to befriend some of the homeless people who seemed to be young and helpless like me, but the longer I stayed with them, the more I realized how they could not be trusted. We would sleep at night in a huddled mass for extra warmth, but by the time I woke up in the morning I would find myself abandoned; the only possessions I owned were stolen. Of course, pick on the little naïve girl. This happened to me twice before I made the decision to never put my trust in any of those people again.
Yesterday had started off no different than any other day. It was that time of year when the weather was starting to get cold. I spent most of the morning and afternoon searching for recyclables along my usual route around the city, ducking into a warm spot every so often to prevent my fingers from freezing. Standing with a cup in hand asking for change somehow never sat well with me and I preferred to avoid it when I could. Maybe it was stupid pride but I felt better whenever the change I got came from the big green machine by the corner store that spat out coins when you fed it cans and bottles. It might not have been a big thing, but I still felt like I had a part in helping out the city.
It was almost dark by the time I found a deserted alley in an area that I decided was safe enough—at least, in my tired, freezing, delirious state of mind it seemed pretty damn safe. Sleeping in the middle of the street seemed safe to me at that point. A dumpster loomed in the shadows, and as I walked towards it a few fat rats who had found something tasty to eat underneath it scurried away. Lucky bastards. The last time I ate out of the dumpster, I was puking my stomach out in the gutter. I couldn’t get myself to do it again. Sure, that meant that I would be eating less—far less—and sure, whenever I went into a coffee shop for a bagel I would get unfriendly glances from customers who would rather not see a dirty homeless girl while they ate their croissant and drank their soy latte—but it was worth it.
The dumpster was nasty. It smelled as though the trash inside hadn’t been emptied out in years. Holding my breath, I opened the lid and found a stack of discarded cardbo
ard. It didn’t seem like it was touching anything gross, and there was enough to cover at least most of my body while I slept. With my teeth chattering from the cold, I took the cardboard out and set myself up at the far end of the alley, where a chain-linked fence met the brick walls on either side of me. There was a black garbage bag back there filled with god-knows-what, and I used it as a pillow as I draped the cardboard over myself. It wasn’t much, but it would protect me from the rain that started to drizzle down at least for a little while until the cardboard became soggy. Hopefully that wouldn’t be until morning.
It took a while until I drifted off into a fitful sleep underneath my makeshift covers. I didn’t know how long I slept before I was awoken by the sounds of two car doors slamming shut. By now it had started raining again and my cardboard blanket clung in a soggy mess around me. The cold wetness felt as though it had sunk into my skin, causing my bones to ache. I cracked my eyes open and saw a dark car parked on the side of the street directly in front of me. I moaned and shifted towards my side, away from the street, cursing them under my breath for waking me up from my sleep, mediocre as it was.
I soon heard footsteps approaching me. Fuck, that wasn’t a good thing. I laid there frozen. “Please go away, please go away,” I mouthed the words silently. This was my alley. Mine! Go find some other place to sleep. The footsteps drew nearer and I squeezed my eyes shut before turning sharply towards the intruders. “Just go the fuck away!” I yelled at them.
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