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Satin Lies available in Print!

Lies, revenge and a hot Italian hero stalk the pages of my contemporary romance, Satin Lies, available in print on 28 April.

When Faye Benedict discovered she was pregnant with Enrico Lavini’s baby, she turned to his brother for a marriage of convenience. Eight years later, an accident has taken her husband and stolen her memory. Slowly, as her memory returns, she is forced to confront the past and the deception that helped tear a family apart.

As head of an Italian banking dynasty, Enrico considers it his duty and responsibility to protect his estranged brother’s widow and child. The feelings he once had for Faye are safely buried beneath the weight of the past. But as long-hidden secrets are exposed, his role as protector transmutes into that of avenger, and Faye is forced to suffer the consequences as he exacts his own particular brand of revenge—marriage.

Here’s an excerpt:

“I heard you have kept yourself busy rearranging the library. I only hope you have not taxed yourself unnecessarily.”

“I haven’t, and it was in need of some restructuring.” Talk, she thought. It was easier when she talked. Then she didn’t have to focus on the way her heart thumped. “Do you know you have first editions going to rack and ruin, not to mention collections that need only one or two books to complete them. Acquire the missing books and the value of the whole collection could most likely double in price, triple even.”

Enrico listened with an indulgent glint in his eye. “Interesting.” He pursed his lips. “But make sure you get enough rest.”

Talking wasn’t doing much good, Faye realized, as sensations sizzled through her. She gripped the ledger until her fingers hurt. “I’m bored silly just sitting around here all day. Everyone watches me like a hawk, at your instruction no doubt. Besides, by doing this I feel I can pay you back in some way.”

His brow creased. “Pay me back?”

“For your kindness in allowing us to stay here.”

He threw his jacket over a nearby chair. “Please do not insult me, cara.”

Before she registered his intention, he’d snatched the ledger from her arms, his gaze falling to her breasts. “If I required payment from you I would demand it by more interesting means.”

He dropped the ledger onto a side table where it fell with a resounding thud. Then, quick as a beat, he had her breath jerking from her lungs as he grabbed her arms and pulled her against him.

“And would you make such payment, Faye?” He caught her chin when she tried to turn away. “I wonder what price would my kindness be worth to you? Exactly how high a price would you be willing to pay?”

Hot blood raced through her, burning her veins. She looked at his throat, that thick tanned column that made her mouth water. He jerked her chin giving her no option but to look in his eyes.

“Stop it.” She damned herself for the weakness in her voice. “I only meant—”

He gave her chin another jerk until their mouths were a breath away. “What exactly did you mean, Faye? Did you think that by insulting me, by offering me payment for your board and lodgings, I would keep my distance?”

His breath feathered over her lips, sending waves of awareness down her spine. “No, of course not.”

Suddenly his arms were around her and she was pressed against him. The hard, muscled strength of him seeping through her until her frenzied brain demanded he finish what he undoubtedly intended to start.

Kiss me, she willed him. Oh, God, just kiss me.

“Perhaps I have kept my distance for too long,” he ground out. “I should have dealt with this years ago, made things right.”

A mad joy hovered at the edges of her heart. “What are you saying?”

His eyes bored into hers, his voice deep and rough. “We made love,” he said as if it was something that might have slipped her mind. “Here in this room. Then you went to London, married my brother, and I never had the chance to make things right.”

The self-reproach in his tone poured icy water on her hopes. “What do you mean?” she asked her voice flat. “How did you expect to make things right?”

“I should have formally apologized to you for what happened, made sure you knew it was not your fault. That I—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Faye shook herself out of his arms, not even trying to cloak her anger. “You apologized all right. In fact, that’s all you did do, over and over. Told me how sorry you were.”

“You belonged to my brother. I had no right to take from you what was rightfully his.” He shook his head. “I had no right.”

She poked a finger into his granite chest. “Get this, Enrico. I don’t belong to anyone. And what I do—did—with my body is my business. It’s my right to decide who gets what.”

She stopped, dragging in much needed oxygen while she fought against the urge to tell him that if anyone had a right he did. He had every right. He was the father of her child. The only man she had ever loved. The man she loved still and always would.

“You are angry. You do not know what you are saying.”

“I’m angry all right. Do you know why? Do you?” She poked him in the chest again. “Because I’m sick and tired of you insinuating I don’t know who I am or what I want. I’m bloody fed up with you always telling me how I feel, what’s good for me.” She dragged in more air, her chest rising and falling with the effort. “I’ve had enough of this, Enrico. I’ve so had enough of this.”

His expression darkened. Nostrils flaring, chest heaving. He glared at her as if she were the devil incarnate.

Then he swore…and his mouth came down on hers.

No tenderness. No tentative play of lips. Just possession. Fierce and brutal.

And she was more than a match for it. Her fingers spiked into his hair, pulling his head down to take more. She wanted more…more… She wanted to pour into their kiss every long, lonely, aching moment of those eight years without him.

Harsh breathing filled the air, punctured only by fractured mutterings of pleasure—of encouragement. Not that Enrico needed any. His body pressed against hers, the hard, muscled strength of his arms keeping her close, allowing her little space to move.

Possessive hands slid down her back, molding her curves. Those long fingers dug in, squeezing and lifting until her pelvis was cradled tight to his. She tried to shimmy, but he held her too firmly.

The heat was so intense she marveled that she didn’t simply combust on the spot.

Without knowing why, she pulled back.

She gasped for air and watched him do the same. It was fear that had made her stop. She was scared. Though not of him. Never of him. It was the situation. The consequences.

She was scared of her lies, her treachery. What had they done? She and Teo. What had they stolen from Enrico? If they made love now she would have to tell him. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself telling him. And once he knew the truth he might never forgive her.

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