One night in Bangkok changes all the rules.
Black Knight, White Queen
© 2013 Jackie Ashenden
Professional chess player Aleksandr Shastin never lets emotions rule his life, or his game. Not even the unexpected death of his mentor shakes his icy control—at least that’s what he thinks. Until he meets a woman in a Bangkok rooftop bar, a woman whose raw sexuality and emotional honesty find every invisible crack…and pries them wide open.
Graphic artist Izzy Cornwall fled to Thailand to escape suffocating grief and guilt after her sister’s suicide. As she locks gazes with Aleks, their instant attraction sets her on fire. And the way he looks at her makes her feel what she hasn’t felt in months: that she actually exists.
In the heat of a Bangkok rainstorm, their chemistry steams up what was supposed to be one night of pain-numbing passion. Neither expected that a single encounter would change all the rules, making Aleks the novice, and Izzy the grandmaster. But if Izzy wants his heart, she’ll have to show him that in order to win, sometimes you have to lose.
Warning: Contains one hot, controlling Russian chess master, a heroine who’s more than capable of taking him on in a game of strip chess, and a checkmate to make Kasparov proud.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Black Knight, White Queen:
The man, an Australian tourist, moved his bishop and looked smug. “Check.”
Aleks wasn’t bothered. He’d set up the trap and the Australian had fallen right into it. Reaching out, he moved his knight. “Checkmate.”
The Australian frowned. “Shit. No way.”
Aleks said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. The evidence was right there on the chessboard.
The guy cursed a bit in the way Australians often did, then reached over the board to shake hands, gracious in defeat.
A few people had gathered around them while they’d been playing, the magnificent view of Bangkok from the hotel’s famous outdoor rooftop bar apparently far less interesting than a chess game. As the Australian vacated his seat, a couple of them looked as though they wanted to play too, but Aleks shook his head and began packing up his board. Playing tourists wasn’t much of a challenge and it did nothing for his game. He’d be playing real opponents in the tournament in a couple of days anyway.
As the crowd drifted away, he gestured to the barman again, and the man poured him another shot of vodka. Good Russian vodka. Viktor’s favourite.
He downed it, but the alcohol did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest at the thought of the old man.
Grief. It’s called grief.
Was it? It had been so long since he’d felt anything he couldn’t be sure. Then again, perhaps it was. Grief was, after all, the usual emotion after someone had died.
Aleks gripped the shot glass then pushed it over the bar for another hit, puzzled with himself.
In order to feel grief one had to care. And Aleks wasn’t sure that he did. After all, Viktor had been just another old man playing chess in Moscow’s Timiryazevsky Park. A man who’d been kind to him on a few occasions when Aleks had been young, but no one that special.
The barman filled up the glass again, and Aleks drank it down, rubbing his chest. But even the third vodka didn’t make a difference to the odd tight feeling. He may as well have been drinking water.
The wind picked up, replacing the scent of exotic flowers, sewage and the hot oil smell of a big city with the heavy, thick scent of rain. Distant thunder rumbled, a warning that perhaps an open-air rooftop bar in the middle of tropical Bangkok was not the best place to be in the rainy season.
Bar staff began to usher people through the tables of the outdoor restaurant situated near the bar, toward the steep, beautifully lit glass staircase that led up from the terrace to the domed elevator entrance.
Aleks pushed away the shot glass and stood.
Lightning crackled across the sky, lighting up the rooftop. This high up, the flash against the clouds was magnificent and prompted a startled gasp from the patrons waiting for the elevators.
Aleks didn’t look. Lightning was lightning. He’d seen it before. Moving toward the staircase, he began threading his way through the now empty tables of the restaurant area.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” a woman said in a husky, awestruck voice. “So beautiful.”
Something in the sound of that voice whispered along his nerve endings like the brush of cat’s tail. It made him stop. Made him look.
She stood near the glass balustrade that bounded the roof, staring up at the clouds as if mesmerised. Lightning flashed again like a magnesium flare, illuminating delicate features and an incredible mass of pale silver-gilt hair held back by a purple scarf. Her eyes were wide and in that flash of light, he saw they were blue. A startling electric blue.
He stared, unable to help himself, slowly taking in the rest of her. She wore typical backpacker gear, blue tie-dyed loose trousers and a tight little black singlet that revealed a slender, womanly figure. Clothes that wouldn’t have passed muster with the hotel’s draconian dress code that was for sure. How did she get up here? She was extraordinary. He’d never seen anything like her.
The first heavy, fat drops of rain began to fall, heralding the start of a tropical downpour.
“You should get undercover,” he said. “You’re going to get wet.”
She turned, those incredible eyes a flash of blue through pale, silvery lashes. “Thanks. But I’m okay.” Her mouth curved and he couldn’t help noticing the shape of it. Full, pouty. Beautiful. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”
There was a warmth to her smile. A warmth he found inexplicably fascinating. “Are you sure? The rain can get heavy here.”
Another lightning flash ripped across the sky. Her eyes glittered like lit sapphires. “Yeah, I know.” Her smile widened, the brilliance of it a burst of sunshine in the midst of the storm around them. “Thanks for the warning, though.”
Heat gathered inside him. A spear of something so intense he almost couldn’t breathe.
He wanted her.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. In two days he had his first game and he’d always been a purist when it came to chess preparation. No sex. No alcohol. Nothing that would take his focus from the game. And he’d already overstepped the mark by having the vodka. Sex would only make it worse.
Aleks nodded to her instead and turned away, walking toward the steps. He found it oddly difficult, as if a part of him was reluctant to leave her behind. Strange. He’d never been so drawn to a woman before, and he couldn’t work out why. Her appearance had caught his attention, no doubt about it, but there’d been something else about her. Her smile. The look in her eyes…
No, best not to think about it. Women were complicated. In fact, people in general were complicated, and he preferred to keep his life free of complications. Chess was the only thing he had room for. Chess was simple. Logical. With clearly defined rules. You always knew where you were on a chessboard. At least he always did.
As he walked up the steps, the rain began to get heavier, and he only just managed to get through the glass doors that led to the elevators before a full-on tropical downpour ensued.
He turned, looking out through the glass across the rooftop to see if the woman had followed him. Apparently not. Her tall figure stood among the wet dining tables and artfully planted rooftop gardens, her face turned toward the sky, eyes closed.
Water streamed over her, soaking her clothes, making them stick to her body, outlining the gentle curve of perfect breasts, narrow waist, slender hips and thighs. Her cloud of hair had become a straight, silver waterfall down her back. Soon she was wet through. But that didn’t seem to bother her.
As he watched, her head tilted farther back, her beautiful mouth turning up in a small, secret smile. Then she stuck out a small, pink tongue, licking the rain from her lips. A childish action but there was nothing childish about the sensuality with which she did it.
Desire kicked hard inside him.
He watched her. Riveted.
She seemed to come to herself after a minute, blinking up into the sky. Then she looked down and shook her head. Her smile turned wistful then faded as an echo of sadness crossed her face. Of regret.
The tightness in his chest twisted in a helpless, inexplicable response.
As if she’d felt him watching her, she turned her head and looked straight at him.
Electric blue hit him full in the chest, crackled through him, ripped him apart like the lightning had ripped apart the sky, lit him up from the inside out.
As if something inside him recognised her. Wanted her. Needed her.
On any other night, at any other time, he would have ignored the feeling. Dismissed it.
But tonight Viktor was dead, and the vodka hadn’t done a thing.
Barely Undercover
Sarah Castille
With passion at full throttle, there’s no turning back.
Legal Heat, Book 2
When private investigator Lana Parker follows a dangerous biker into an underground sex club, James Hunter is the last man she expects to see. But there he is, all dark looks and chiseled charms, ready to break her heart all over again.
Danger is the name of the game for an undercover cop. And the last thing James wants is for the fiery beauty to come anywhere near the notorious biker gang he’s trying to take down. Yet Lana has no intention of giving up her case, which means he’ll have to keep her close to keep her safe. A risky proposition—especially when their blazing sexual chemistry reignites an unforgettable passion.
But when a dark terror emerges from the past, Lana goes on the run…and James gives up everything to save her. Backed into a corner, Lana must face her fears, including the one thing that frightens her most…her overwhelming feelings for the man whose searing glance sparks her most hidden desires, the man she should not trust, but cannot resist.
Warning:
The book contains violence, explicit sex, light BDSM, heavy swearing, motorcycle sexytimes, bad-ass biker naughtytimes, and an exceptionally hot hero who will get down and dirty anywhere but under the covers.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Barely Undercover
Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Castille
ISBN: 978-1-61921-823-9
Edited by Christa Soule
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: December 2013