MANWHORE + 1 by Katy Evans
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.
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
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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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