Samhain Publishing Ltd Weblog

Satin Lies releases today!

Her lies may be satin, but his revenge is pure steel.

Satin Lies, my latest contemporary romance, releases today! The setting is romantic Tuscany where a hot Italian alpha hero plots his revenge on a former lover who is suffering from temporary amnesia. Enrico and Faye have a fair bit of sorting out to do before they get their HEA.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Madre de Dio! How is it you make me want you beyond everything I know to be appropriate.”

He took several deep breaths before he looked up. The smoldering charcoal gaze had disappeared, replaced by that steely glare that lashed her heart.

“So, why don’t you just apologize and get it over with?” she mocked, pulling her tee shirt down to cover herself. “While you’re at it, why don’t you just remind me that I don’t know what I want or how I feel?”

He pushed away from the wall, turned sharply, and with his back to her snatched up his jacket. “You will receive no apology from me this time.”

Some of the heat was back, Faye noticed as he faced her again, fire and irritation smoldering beneath the steel. He gave her a swift and mildly insulting once over, and slung the jacket over his shoulder. “From your reaction I take it you would have no objection to sharing my bed.”

Frustration and miserable embarrassment had her flesh burning as she pushed the tee into her waistband, wishing she could as easily tuck away her feelings for him. “I won’t be sharing anything with you. Ever.” Least of all the truth about her child. “I’m leaving.”

She pivoted, heading for the door with the intention of giving it a nice healthy slam to help vent some of the wretchedness. But he caught her, his fingers curling into the back of her waistband and yanking her back.

“You are not going anywhere until your memory has returned,” he growled.

Faye whirled on him. “You mean you want me to stay in this room until I can remember everything?” Venom laced her mockingly sweet tone. When his eyes narrowed she shook her head. “I meant I’m leaving this room, Enrico, not the villa. At least, not yet.”

“I want to know what happened,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I want to know why you and Matteo were traveling together. What was the purpose of your trip?”
“Like it’s any of your business.”

“I want to know if you intended to reconcile.”

Faye stared at him. “Why?”

The question seemed to unnerve him. Just imagine that, Faye thought, Enrico Lavini unnerved. But then her heart took a soaring leap with the realization there was only one reason he wanted the answer to that particular question.

“Why?” she demanded when he didn’t answer. “Why do you want to know that?”

He rolled back his shoulders. “Melita needed her father.”

Faye caught the reprimand, and gave herself an even sharper one for the stupid thoughts she’d been harboring.

Guilt surged through her, because he was right. Melita did need her father.

Him.

She was over a barrel. Damned if she told him the truth and damned if she didn’t. If she confessed the truth would he ever forgive her? Regardless, she couldn’t let things remain like this. Couldn’t let any more time go by allowing him to believe his daughter belonged to someone else, that she belonged to someone else.

“We would never have reconciled.” Her throat burned with the words but she had to say them. “Neither of us wanted it.”

Faye paused as her throat tightened painfully. She took in a breath, trying to think clearly, to formulate the words that would change all of their lives forever.

But the short pause allowed Enrico to say, “You cannot be sure, not until your memory returns.” He walked to a nearby chair and dropped his jacket on the back of it. “You were everything to Matteo,” he said wearily. “All he ever wanted in life.”
“That’s not true—”

“You married him,” he interrupted. “You chose him as your husband. There must have been something left between you, something you might have built on.”

“It wasn’t like that.” If she wasn’t careful he’d box her into a corner where her only possible escape meant revealing the true reasons behind her marriage to Teo.

“Facts are facts, cara.” He shook his head. “I only hope in some small way he forgave me for taking from him what was never mine to take. And that he would forgive me now for my lack of restraint around you.”

“For heaven’s sake, Enrico. There you go again. You’re like something out of the Middle Ages. Making it sound like I have nothing to do with anything.” Exasperated, she headed for the door. This was so not the time to be having a conversation about something as important as her daughter’s paternity. The man had it in his head that she and Teo had been the love story of the millennium.

“And it was my virginity,” she snapped as she waltzed past him. “Not the rights to the world’s oil reserves or a bank of diamond mines in some undiscovered—”

“How flippantly you brush aside something so important to a man.”

“To an Italian, maybe.” She jerked as he reached out and grabbed her arm, then looked pointedly down to where his fingers curved around her flesh. “Be careful, Enrico. Who knows what unspeakable taboos you’re violating by touching me.”
It was a childish retaliation and she knew it, but he was just so ridiculously—infuriatingly—Latin.

“This I have already done,” he said in a hard tone, “and have since lived to regret it.”

If he’d wanted to hurt her more he couldn’t have said anything worse. If there was anything in her life she had never regretted, would never regret, it was their one night together. But obviously for him it was a different story.

“Well, I’m sorry I was such a disappointment.” Her heart lurched and she attempted to tug her arm from his grip. “Let go!”

He held firm, waiting until she glared up at him. Only then did he release her.

Faye hurried up the stairs, her feet barely touching the floor as she made for the sanctuary of her room. Heaven help her, it was almost a replay of the scene she’d been remembering. She slammed the door, sank against it and stared at the pillow.
Not this time, she thought. No tears this time. No pillows. No pining for a man who wasn’t worth the effort.

That was one part of history that wouldn’t repeat itself.