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The Designers Bride by Lynn Chantale

Are you playing matchmaker? #MFRWhooks

The Designers Bride by Lynn Chantale

For cosmetics heiress Elisabeth Bach, finding the right man hasn’t been easy, especially when her father is bent on arranging her love life for his own twisted purposes. When she falls for fashion designer Jordan Carlisle, she knows she’s met The One, and she’ll do anything to keep their relationship secret from her father’s schemes.

Jordan Carlisle has been waiting a long time for a chance to date Elisabeth and he’s determined to make her his wife. Will a Valentine’s Day proposal be enough to keep her or will his checkered past destroy his future?

 


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Excerpt

“Are you playing matchmaker again, Dylan?”

He chuckled. “No ma’am. He saw you sitting alone.”

“I think I can take it from here,” a smooth, velvety voice interrupted.

Dylan nodded and backed away. Elisabeth straightened a little in her chair. Her breath stuck in her throat at the intensity of the newcomer’s stare. His long slow perusal left her body simmering.

His jet black hair was cut close, the smooth hairline tapering to neatly trimmed sideburns. Otherwise, his rugged face was clean-shaven. He smiled and her eyes were drawn to his full, sexy mouth. For a moment, she wondered how his lips would feel pressed against hers. Desire flooded her veins.

“Jordan Carlisle.” He offered his hand. The oversized watch on his wrist winked in the dim light, vying for attention with his gold cufflinks.

She accepted his hand. “Elisabeth.” She snapped her gaze to his at the crackle of electricity between them. He held her hand a second too long and flirtation gleamed in the depths of his coffee-colored eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” He waved to the vacant chair across from hers.

She shook her head and bit back a sigh when his biceps flexed against the dark silk of his suit jacket. He unbuttoned his coat and sat down.

“I hate dining alone,” he said, smiling apologetically.

“I do too. I was just about to leave.” She studied him from beneath her lashes before meeting his eyes a second time. He seemed familiar to her, yet she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him. “Have we met before?”

He smiled, wide and easy, and her heart fluttered in anticipation.

“Not formally. I’m a friend of your brother’s. We went to college together.”

His dark good looks and devil-may-care eyes slid into place in her memory. The photo in her brother’s room, of the lacrosse team. Jordan had been the captain.

“You and Drew played lacrosse.”

He nodded. “How is Andrew? It’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other.”

“Out of town at the moment. At a conference.” She reached for her water glass and Dylan reappeared with a second menu. “I’ll have to tell Andrew we spoke.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Jordan smiled again and she melted.

She shook her head. “He thinks I should get out more, but my father has a way of sabotaging my love life.” She sipped her water.

He regarded her a moment, avid interest shining in his eyes. “You are definitely worth protecting.”

Heat crept into her cheeks from his scrutiny as well as the compliment. “You’re pretty suave, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a smooth laugh that reminded her of warm fudge. “When it suits me.”

“Like now?”

He inclined his head.

“And my father knows nothing about you?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

She picked up a menu. “Let’s keep it that way.”

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Philander or heart throb? #MFRWhooks

Benjamin Douglas or Sir Casanova had a reputation to live up to, known for tossing roses to beautiful women in the audience and stealing a smooch or two on the way in or out of the ring, well its all part of the act. Many believe the hype of his philandering when he’s away from his 10 y/o daughter, including his next door neighbor Serena Jameson.  

 

Serena Jameson has had a crush on the single dad since she saw him tumbling with his daughter in the backyard, but she knows his altar ego is a playboy, yet her heart tells her it’s all an act. After he treats his daughter like the treasure she is, still Serena can’t get past the womanizing image. Yet she gives him a chance.

 

When an unexpected visitor emerges from Ben’s past the challenges faced will put their relationship to the test. Will the couple have a chance to endure to the last bell or will one tap out before the match has even begun? 

 


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Excerpt

There was one more thing she couldn’t ignore: kissing women was part of Sir Casanova’s act.

 

“I’ll find you after the show,” he murmured against her lips. He stepped away, but not before he tucked a white rose in her hair.

 

Serena stared after him, oblivious to the crowd screaming and chanting his name. Sir Casanova, or Ben, as she knew him, swaggered around the ring, tossing red roses indiscriminately to random women before he leapt onto the blue mat and ducked between the second and third ropes of the ring.

 

When she was nudged, she glanced down and to her left. A little girl around nine or ten with a mop of unruly, sand-colored hair stared up at her with a dimpled grin in her little apple cheeks. A smattering of freckles dotted those same cheeks, giving the child a cute and irresistible air.

 

Serena returned the smile with fondness. “Yes, sweetheart?”

 

“My daddy likes you,” the child said.

 

Heat cruised Serena’s cheeks and she pressed her hands to her flaming face. “It’s all an act, Becca. He just does it to amuse the crowd.”

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Sin Eaters’ tattoo

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

 


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Excerpt

He leaned against the sill, peering into the distant water surrounding the island. Too bad he couldn’t smite them for their insolence. 

 

Dust rose from his grip as he leaned farther out the window. The impudent fools would rue the day they ever passed him over for their leader. Already preparations were being made to crown the rightful heir to the throne—a throne that would be his, if he bided his time.

“Huemac”—the soft, husky tone broke his reverie—“you seem so tense.” 

 

He hid a smirk as he turned. This goddess was his way in. For months he'd bedded her just to get close to her family—the ruling family. Her blood, her very sacrifice, would secure his position as ruler for centuries to come. 

 

“Keeping our relationship from your family continues to give me trouble.” He prevaricated as he glided toward the bed where Metztli lie.  

....

 

She giggled, a musical sound that grated his nerves. “’Tis only until the feast of coronation has concluded. Once that’s over, I will introduce you with all the fanfare due your position.” 

 

Truth rang in her words. What was the emotion pricking his conscience? It almost felt like guilt. He brushed it aside. He learned at an early age about naiveté. Metztli embodied that. As princess, she was shielded from the harshness of what her people really were. She was oblivious to how she was being played with just a hot time in bed and the false promises of love. 

 

He sat on the edge of the bed. His weight shifted her toward him and he brushed a lock of her sandy-brown hair back from her face.

She stared up at him expectantly, her light brown eyes alive with light.

 

“Not a moment later.” He acceded to her plea with a wry smile as he gazed into her eyes. For a moment he was falling forward into the caramel depths. With a jerk, he snapped back, then blinked to clear his head.

 

Metztli rubbed his thigh as if nothing had happened. “You are everything I’ve wanted,” she murmured.

 

....

 

He traced the distinctive Sin Eaters’ tattoo of an eagle perched on a cactus on the inside of her wrist before trailing ....

 

 

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