Are you ready for Blaire?
BLURB
Love is selfish...
My name is Blaire.
I'm the bad girl.
The other woman.
The one who never gets the guy in the
end.
I'm the gold digger.
The bitch.
The one no one roots for.
The one you love to hate.
I hate myself too...
Everyone has a story. Are you ready for
mine?
EXCERPT
With champagne and caviar inundating my
every sense, I slither through the light wooden floors of the Lila Acheson Wallace Wing in The Met. As I walk, I pretend
to admire the expensive jewelry being showcased tonight by a famous designer
whose name I can’t remember. A multicolored diamond butterfly sparkles to my
left and a cobra made out of black stones glistens to my right. Rows upon rows
of precious gems twinkle under the soft lights of the room, flooding the space
between the walls with the glow of a thousand stars. Furtive glances. Secrets
gossiped. Beauty criticized. Lofty music fills the atmosphere as the über rich
mingle and pretend to like each other, yet you can almost taste their conceit
and derision for one another in the air.
This is Walker’s world, and I
love it.
Standing across the room, where
the crowd is thinner and the music fainter, I spot Walker’s blond head in the
corner of the room, talking to a group of his colleagues and their wives. He
looks polished and worth every penny of his trust fund in his sleek black
tuxedo, perfectly starched white shirt and black bowtie. His long golden hair
parted to the side shines like the sun. He is truly flawless.
I smile because it’s hard to
picture that this is the same guy who likes to snort coke off my tits as he
fucks me while hardcore porn plays in the background. He looks untouchable and
so cool, but his searching eyes, scanning the crowd for me give him up. He’s
wondering where I am. He did tell me not to go too far, after all. Soon after
we arrived at the party, I gave him some space to talk to his friends and do
his thing while I did mine. I hate clingy people, so I avoid being one.
I grab a third flute of champagne
from a passing waiter, and try to decide which of the different displays to
check out first when my eyes land on a spectacular piece of jewelry. On a bed
of black silk, similar to my hair color, lies an extravagant necklace made of
diamonds and rubies—a small heaven within one’s reach as long as you can afford
the price.
I bridge the space between the
glass protecting the necklace and me until it’s within my reach, fighting the
urge to touch the cool surface. As if under a spell, I observe how the rows of
diamonds embedded in platinum form leaves and thorns. At its center is a rose
made out of red diamonds almost as big as my palm.
I feel someone walk up and stand
next to me, but I don’t give him or her a second thought as I continue to
admire the way the light hits the gems, making them shine.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
His voice is smooth and
commanding, dripping absolute power. I keep my eyes locked on the display. Call
it sixth sense, but somehow I know that under no circumstance should I make eye
contact with the stranger who speaks like the ruler of the world.
“Yes,” I say simply.
“I wonder how much it is?” the
man asks.
“I don’t think it matters … I
highly doubt anyone can afford it.”
He chuckles, and the sound is
more delicious than his voice. Lusher. “Oh, but I can.”
I smile at his self-assurance. I
love cocky assholes. “I still doubt it.”
“You shouldn’t. I only speak the
truth,” he retorts coolly. His voice is nonchalant yet his words leave no room
for disbelief—a demand and a statement all in one.
Suddenly, the noises of the room
become distant. People talking and laughing amongst friends and the orchestra
playing all fade away until all I hear is him speaking.
And at this moment, that is all
that matters.
“The truth is very subjective,
sir.”
“The truth may be subjective but
money isn’t. Money can buy anything.”
His answer is like an
electroshock, jumpstarting my brain from a champagne-induced haze. My pulse
begins to accelerate, excitement making it hard to take a deep breath. Don’t
look at him … don’t.
“Oh really,” I say, my voice
dripping with sarcasm. He’s right, though.
“Of course. I believe
everything,” he pauses, “and everyone has a price.”
Curiosity winning the battle
against curiosity, I turn to face him, and what a fucking big mistake that is.
When our eyes meet, I feel incapacitated of all sense and movement. The sight
of him takes my breath away. This man gives the term “lust at first sight” a
whole new meaning.
In my short twenty-three years, I’ve been with
extremely handsome men, perfect even, but to classify the man standing next to
me in any kind of category would be a disservice to him, and not really fair to
the others. Longish, light brown hair wildly framing his face, vacant eyes the
color of dollar bills, a slightly crooked nose, and a mouth that begs to be
buried deep within your thighs. His beauty is as harsh as it is stunningly
perfect. Dressed in a simple black tuxedo and unbuttoned white shirt, the man exudes
innate virility and grace, reminding me of a black panther stalking his prey.
And just like a panther, it’s the pure raw and powerful energy emanating from
within him that I find most attractive. Because just by standing next to him, I
get the sense that his word is always the last spoken and his wishes the first
ones to be fulfilled. He doesn’t ask, he demands. He doesn’t hope, he expects.
He’s quiet for a moment; his uncanny eyes hold
me captive as though they are baring my soul to him and I hate it. I tighten my
hold on the crystal flute. I want to look away, but I can’t. The way he’s
staring at me makes me want to squirm.
“I wonder … do you have one?” he
asks softly before turning to examine the piece of jewelry once more.
“A
what?” I ask, momentarily stunned.
He smiles. “A price.”
“For the right amount … I just
might,” I say quietly, my heart beating so fast it feels as though it wants out
of my chest. As soon as the words leave my mouth, there’s no shock coursing
down my body, no rolling waves of shame pulling me down for having said that to
a complete stranger—nothing.
And why should there be? I am who
I am.
I’m staring at his profile,
waiting for him to acknowledge my answer, when a breeze of cool air floats past
us, making me shiver. About to chase the goose bumps on my arm with my hand, I
watch as he slowly turns to look at me, catching me staring at him. Time stands
still as I watch him raise his large tanned hand and touch my bare shoulder,
his fingertips lightly grazing the temporary small bumps covering it. Then he
smiles as if he knows that my skin is tingling from his scalding touch, and
looks away.
“I thought so.”
We remain standing next to each
other for another minute or so, the distance between us almost nonexistent. It
would be so easy to reach out and hold his hand. The sound of an incoming call
breaks the silence, bringing us back to reality.
He takes his cell phone out of
the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and ignores the call after noting the
name of the caller. He lifts his gaze to meet my own.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I should go … I’m
here with someone,” I reply, not really wanting to leave him just yet.
“Yes, that’s probably a good
idea.”
I frown. He didn’t have to be
quite so blunt. The stranger extends a hand toward me, holding something in his
fingers.
“Here … ”
I open my hand as I feel the
edges of what I assume is his business card poke the skin of my palm. “What’s
this?” I ask stupidly.
“My business card, of course.”
“Obviously … but why?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach
his eyes. “Let’s just say that I’m an interested buyer.”
And then he’s gone.
He turns and walks away from me,
disappearing into a sea of colorful gowns and black suits. As the sounds of the
party infiltrate my ears once more, I lower my gaze to stare at the simple
cream-colored card in my hand. Its simplistic and elegant design draws
attention to the name printed in bold black letters on the paper.
Lawrence Rothschild.
I smile and let my fingertips
trail his name. It depends on what you’re willing to pay, Mr. Rothschild.
Published by Mia Asher
Copyright © 2013 by Mia Asher
OUR REVIEW:
Easy Virtue = WOAH!
I am a huge fan of Mia’s work and I was beyond excited
when I learned that she was releasing a
new novel. I jumped at the opportunity to read Easy Virtue. There is so much I
want to say about this novel, but I do not want to spoil it for the people who
have not had a chance to read it yet!
First, let’s talk about the heroine, Blaire. Blaire is not
normally the type of character that I would like to read about, but Blaire got
under my skin in a good way. It is completely true that Blaire is the one you
would love to hate. Blaire’s sights are set on rich men that she can use in
order to live a lavish lifestyle. Plain and simple, Blaire is a gold digger.
She does not care if a man is married or committed. The only thing that Blaire
care about is being pampered with all the finest things in life. She does not wear
her heart on her sleeve because she knows that the men in her life are only
temporary until she finds someone richer. When this happens she is able to walk
away without batting her eyes. She is on to bigger and better things…the richer
the better! Does Blaire sound like a girl that you can relate to? Your answer
is probably not. Give her a chance because she will grow on you. You are able
to see a side of Blaire that you would not think existed and that is all due to
Ronan.
Blaire already has her sights on her next victim when Ronan
appears in her life. Ronan on the other hand is not rich and he does not have
the means to support Blaire’s expensive tastes. However Ronan does not view
Blaire as a gold digger, he actually sees her for the person that she is and
not for the pleasures that she can provide. In other words, Ronan is not the
type of man that Blaire would normally waste her time with because he cannot
benefit her in any way. However Ronan is a charmer and becomes simply irresistible.
The feelings that Ronan causes Blaire to feel is uncharted terriority for her.
She has never met a man that actually cares about her and she doesn’t know how
to react to it. Blaire just wants to be someone else for a while and enjoy the
now. However Blaire’s internal battle is weighting heavy on her mind. The person
that Ronan causes Blaire to be is completely different to the person that
Blaire projects herself as. Blaire is questioning that maybe love is better
than a lavish lifestyle. Blaire is having an internal battle with her heart and
her mind. She is to the point where she needs to block out these risky feelings
before it is too late. This is not the person that she is and it is time for
Blaire to get back on track with her original plan and focus on her next prey. However
will her conscience allow it? Will love conquer all?
About the Author:
Mia Asher
My name
is Mia Asher.
I'm a
writer, a hopeless romantic, a wanderer, a dreamer, a cynic, and a believer.
And, oh yes…I might be a bit crazy - but who isn't?
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Broken Love Story (Arsen & Easy Virtue)
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