Sunday, May 12, 2019

FIRST LOOK: For Worse (The Billionaire's Vow, #4)

EXCERPT from For Worse (The Billionaire’s Vow, #4)…coming soon! :) 

If you haven't read the other installments in the series that have been released so far:

To Have (The Billionaire’s Vow, #1)
To Hold (The Billionaire’s Vow, #2)
For Better (The Billionaire’s Vow, #3)

Then proceed with caution...spoilers ahead!

For Worse (The Billionaire's Vow, #4)
Copyright © 2019 Ava Claire 


“Well, clearly I’m coming too.”
I blinked, almost forgetting there was anyone else in the world besides the giant of a man who looked ready, willing, and able to crush my bones to make his bread. But the voice that cut through my horrified stupor was too high, too feisty to belong to the glowering man who was standing a few feet from me. 
Daring me to say no to his demands.
Mr. Esposito would like to see you.
If the statement involved anyone else, it would have been a request. 
I scrubbed a hand over my face, eyes shifting from Megan to Vincent. Turned out they were both daring me to say no. A ‘no’ would give them the opportunity to escalate. Vincent, who looked out of place among the crystal chandelier, white tablecloths and gowns. Decked out in a black tee that choked his massive muscles and jeans that would have resulted in anyone else being denied entry. Megan, who looked ready to step in the ring, moments away from snatching off her hoop earrings. 
‘No’ wasn’t an option for either of them so I took a swig of water, ignored the boulder that was firmly planted in my gut, and put on the bravest face I could manage. “Lead the way.”
The corners of Vincent’s mouth tilted downward into a scowl when Megan perked to her feet, ready to make good on her statement. “Red’s not invited.”
“‘Red’ doesn’t need an invitation,” Megan answered, not even flinching. Glaring right back at him like she ate men like Vincent for breakfast. He didn’t budge, clearly not a fan of this course of action, but my best friend made it crystal clear that it wasn’t up for debate. “I’m sure you have better things to do than stand there and stare at me—Vincent, wasn’t it?”
For the briefest moment, the bulldozer sized man was replaced by his younger self. I saw a gangly, awkward, wayward kid—and wayward kids were Megan’s specialty. 
His dark eyes bulged, heat unfurling in his cheeks before he locked it down and turned on his heels, marching back in the direction of the kitchen. “This way.”
I wanted a minute to gather myself, to have a silent conversation with my friend where I, she, or both of us had the good sense to say ‘eff this’ and booked it out of the restaurant…because anyone with good sense would avoid all things Esposito. But Megan was hot on his trail, practically leaving me in the dust. She had that fire, that bring-it-on fury of someone who didn’t know that monsters truly existed. That in real life, the bullets weren’t made of rubber and the bad guys truly didn’t care if you lived or died. In fact they were kinda rooting for the latter.
I steeled my spine and got the lead out. This freight train was going in one direction and backwards was not one of the choices. 
Or off the rails…
If I had any doubt of Esposito’s clout, I was cured of it when we marched right past signage that read ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’—and no employee dared to even look in our direction. In fact, like dominoes falling, every person was struck by lightning when we entered the room. Their faces morphed from gleeful, tired, and focused to ashen, terrified, and obedient. Servers parted like the Red Sea, one poor young woman turning the same color as the pasta sauce on the plate she held, then almost dropping said plate when Vincent scowled in her direction. 
It was unfortunate I could barely appreciate the behind-the-scenes look at the restaurant because all the bits and pieces that made up the well-oiled machine was something to behold, something some diners even paid extra to experience. There was a single, white clothed table with a bird’s eye view of the entire kitchen, where the discerning customer unencumbered by budgets could see just how the sausage was made. 
I paused, catching sight of a single diner at said table, wondering if they realized they wouldn’t get the average experience at the ‘chef’s table’ tonight. In fact, if I had any choice in the matter, I’d be making my way to the-
Oh my god.
The suit clad man at the table pivoted towards us, slowly rising to his feet. He looked right past Vincent and Megan, meeting my gaze with an intensity that would have made me gulp, if my mouth wasn’t suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert.
Even if I hadn’t done my homework after Rachel Laraby told me who she was dating, I would have instantly known that Marco Esposito was a man of authority. Like Jacob, the air was different around him. It was a charged, electric thing that both drew you closer and kept you at a distance. Like my husband, Marco kept his dark locks cropped, sharpening his angles to a blade’s edge. But unlike my husband, whose eyes were the color of the ocean and just as inviting (when he wanted them to be), there was nothing remotely warm about Marco’s gaze. His eyes were the color of midnight. 
The color of the abyss. 


NOW AVAILABLE: For Better (The Billionaire's Vow, #3)

For better...

Leila Whitmore is finally back in a good (and sexy) place with her billionaire husband when a new roadblock arises. Can she help a client who’s in trouble without putting her family in grave danger? 

For Better is the third installment in the Billionaire’s Vow series.

Now available at the following retailers:

The Billionaire’s Vow Series

To Have (The Billionaire’s Vow, #1)
To Hold (The Billionaire’s Vow, #2)
For Better (The Billionaire’s Vow, #3)
For Worse (The Billionaire’s Vow, #4)
For Richer (The Billionaire’s Vow, #5)
For Poorer (The Billionaire’s Vow, $6)
To Love (The Billionaire’s Vow, #7)
To Cherish (The Billionaire’s Vow, #8)
Til Death (The Billionaire’s Vow, #9)

Saturday, January 12, 2019

FIRST LOOK: For Better (The Billionaire's Vow, #3)

Hey loves! Can't believe we're already twelve days into 2019...which means we're that much closer to more Jacob and Leila. :D

Here's your first look at the next installment in the Billionaire's Vow series, For Better (The Billionaire's Vow, #3).

Excerpt from For Better (The Billionaire’s Vow Series, #3) by Ava Claire 
Copyright © 2019 Ava Claire

“Jacob, if you don’t keep your hands to yourself, I’m gonna spank you.”
That earned me a chuckle, his pale eyes glittering with mischief. We both knew my bark was bigger than my bite—and I really wasn’t putting up too much of a fight.
His fingertips stroked the length of my spine, literally, since his hand was up my shirt, making me think about everything but the task at hand. I should have been putting the finishing touches on the platter of food I ordered for dinner with Lexi, a dinner that was due to kick off in T-minus 15 minutes, according to the clock. 
Based on the current location of my husband’s hands (snaking around to the front, cupping my breasts), he was hungry for something—and it wasn’t on the menu.
“Jacob,” I hissed, but pointedly didn’t swat his hand away. In fact, I welcomed his touch, bracing my hands against the counter. Eyes fluttering shut as he roamed over my nipples, teasing the peaks. Chasing the darkness, the distraction, because it offered me a few more precious moments of denial. I didn’t have to pretend this was merely a dinner with a client instead of an intervention. I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t terrified Jace would tag along, despite my attempts to make it clear I was extending Lexi a solo invitation and we were fresh out of plus one’s. 
Jacob let out a low, dangerous groan as he lingered on my mounds, weighing each one like he was weighing out the options. Deciding what he wanted to do to me. 
I should have steered us back to G-rated territory, but I felt a groan of my own rising from the heart of me, needs of my own being fanned by his nearness. What was the harm in a little bumping and grinding before I had to go into fix-it mode? Hope was at her grandparent’s house, and let’s be honest—I chose a Nirvana t-shirt and a flowing, candy apple red skater skirt because on some level, I wanted my husband to be distracted too. To lift the short hem and give me something else to think about. Something other than Lexi, Rachel, or Alicia.
To be frank, I wanted him to give me something to cry about.
To use me, to spank me, so the tears that brimmed my eyes were ones of pleasure and absolution instead of tears of frustration. 
I didn’t want to think about all the things I couldn’t control. 
I didn’t want to think at all. 
I just wanted to count.
Jacob’s fingers lingered on my nipples, fingers poised around my swollen flesh. 
Giving me an out. 
Or is he daring you to say yes?
“Are you sure, little sub?” He moved closer and I felt the solid, throbbing length of him telling me he was hoping for a yes.
I did one better. I craned my neck, eyes finding his. “Spank me.”