Entitled: A Bad Boy Romance by Roxy Sinclaire
They call me heartless. But that’s just because I always get what I want.
And now I want her.
Devlin Masters has spent his entire life in the service of his family’s business empire, working his way up from the mailroom to the boardroom of Masters In Style. As C.E.O. and heir to the billion-dollar hair-care company, Devlin’s life is consumed by his work. But when a rival orchestrates his downfall, Devlin must rehabilitate his image or lose control of his cherished company.
Then he meets Ayron. He instantly wants her curvy body. He soon appreciates her mind just as much. But what if she wants his heart?
His father hired me to help him. He’s not supposed to know about this deal. I can’t fall in love with him.
I’ve got to be heartless.
Community therapist Ayron Winters loves helping people more than she craves a big paycheck. But when faced with losing her office space—and her beloved assistant’s huge medical bills—Ayron knows she needs money, and a lot of it. Fast.
When the founder of the famed Masters In Style hair care corporation wants to hire Ayron to counsel his impulsive, bad-boy son, she’s intrigued. When she finds out how much he’s paying, she thinks it’s a godsend. But the devil’s in the details: she can’t let Devlin Masters know she’s a therapist. In order to gain his trust, she must pose as his friend. His confidant. But what happens if he wants more? What happens if she does?
Ayron can’t lose her heart to Devlin. But more than anything: she can’t let him find out who she actually is.
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Description
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About the author:
Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality.
What inspired you to write your book?
I love bad boys!
Here is a short sample from the book:
I step into the private restroom, take a deep breath, and call my friend.
“I can’t do it,” I rush before Monique has the chance to pop out a greeting. “I can’t spend the evening with him. I just can’t.”
The tiled bathroom floor receives the brunt of my agitation, as pacing seems to calm my nerves a bit, but not enough.
“Calm down,” she orders. “What did he do? I got bail money under the mattress, if I have to come beat his ass.”
“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” I nearly yell in disbelief. “His father had me pumped up to meet this pompous, anger-filled miscreant, and Devlin is nothing of the sort. He bought me clothes, paid for hair and makeup and a limo just to have me stand by his side while he showered me with compliments all night!”
“The dog,” Monique exhales sarcastically. “I’m going to tell you like Ms. Agnes would—carry yourself right back in there and enjoy that man.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t do that. He’s been too sweet for me to keep leading him on.”
“So he’s getting to you?” Monique says. “It’s alright to care about him as a person. You’re helping him become better.”
I shake my head.
I have crossed so many lines already.
“I have to tell him what I do and why I am here. I need to confess,” I say.
I look at myself in the mirror.
“And what about Ms. Agnes? What about getting the office space that you need?” she says. “You’ve more than outgrown that broom closet at the community center. Focus on the goal.”
A knock at the door startles me.
“You all right in there?” Devlin’s smooth voice, and the image of his tall, handsome body leaning against the door, coming to check on me, cause the flutters return as though they’d never been absent.
“Why does he keep being so nice?” I whisper to Monique.
Devlin knocks again.
“Ayron,” he calls.
“He’s outside of the door,” I snap into the phone while searching through the small space for a window, porthole, trap door or something. “I can’t face him again, Mo.”
“Do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.
“I’m all right, Devlin,” I squeak.
“You can do this, Ayron,” Monique reassures. “The ends will justify the means.”
Ending the call with Monique, I open the door to Devlin.
“Is everything all right?” He examines me, his gorgeous brows furrowed. He places a steady hand on my cheek. “I thought you may have done a disappearing act on me, until coat check said they saw you slip in here.”
“I’m fine,” I stutter, lost in the feeling of his caress.
“I wish that I could say the same.”
“What’s wrong?” It is my job to worry about him, to comfort him.
“I need you. This—” His mouth is against mine before I can speak.
If my mind would have allowed me to protest, I would have, but not telling myself the truth is futile. I want him.
His skillful tongue breaches the cavern of my mouth, mapping the precise route to elicit moans. Heat courses through me. Devlin had skyrocketed me to a new place of pleasure with just the tangle of his tongue against mine.
In a swift motion, he hoists me against the wall and releases my breast from the strapless gown. His hot tongue trails kisses down my neck onto my chest until capturing my hardened nipple. Each suckle lulls me further into a dream world. His world, and I am ready to sign up for citizenship, allow him to plant his flag in my fertile soil and claim me.
Locking my legs around him, I feel the full rise of his hardness between my thighs, and I water at the thought of how good he could make me feel with other parts of his body if he works his tongue this well.
I give in to the indulgence, a scorching shot of desire for this model-built man damaging my self-control.
He tastes as good as he looks, and feels even better. Our tongues collide, and I am at a loss for words. I can only moan.
Devlin moves his zipper loose and sanity begins to seep in.
I tear my face from his.
“I can’t,” I pant. “I can’t do this.”
His ragged breaths fall against my neck as he nuzzles the crevice.
“No worries, babe,” he whispers between kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”
I wiggle and motion for him to let me down.
“This isn’t right,” I say.
Devlin helps me to my feet and I fall against him, resting against his heaving chest and thumping pulse.
He encapsulates me with his arms.
“I’m not out to just hit it and quit it,” he explains, placing a kiss on my head. “I have never met a woman as caring and wise and as beautiful as you.”
I look into his eyes.
“Then there is no rush,” I remind him. “Good things come to those who wait. You agreed to my thirty-day trial period.”
He punctuates his compliance by drawing in a long breath.
I step out of his embrace and fix my clothing. He tucks and straightens his clothing as well.
“If that’s what it takes, then I’ll wait,” he exhales with a shake of his head.
I gather my emotions and willpower before exiting.
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