Friday, July 27, 2018

The Assassin's Heart by Alexis Abbott

I have two options: Kill her, or make her mine.


A web of lies. An assassination. A beautiful maid who was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Everything is at stake, and her life is in my hands. She's everything I always wanted, and never deserved. But now she belongs to me. I need her obedience. I give her the only option: pretend to be my wife and let me get close to my target. It’s a dangerous game, but I’ve already won my prize. She just doesn’t know it yet. This novel is a full length romantic suspense novel with no cliffhangers. Explicit language. Safe from cheating.

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❤️Excerpt❤️

“Do you want me to lighten up or do you want me to kill a man? Can’t do both,” says the first man, as if it’s the most casual statement in the world. His cadence tells me it’s meant to be kind of a joke, but neither of them are laughing. “Alright, you can stop bustin’ my balls. I get it. I’ll leave you to it, alright? Just-- don’t forget who you’re answering to,” surrenders the second man. I let out my held breath as he stands up straight again, the mattress bouncing back up. “I know what I’m doing.” “Right. I’m out then. Good luck,” says the second man. I can see his feet carrying him over to the door. It swings open with a creak of the hinges. As the second man lingers in the doorway, the first man says solemnly, “I don’t need luck.” And with that, the heavier guy leaves. The door clicks closed and now it’s just the mercenary and me. I was hoping he’d leave as well, that I’d get some break, some chance to run. Are they looking for me yet? I left my cleaning cart outside the last room I was cleaning, further down the hall. But they’d never assume I was in a guest’s room, especially not an occupied one. And I know for a fact almost all the cameras in the hotel are for show. The others are just live feeds of the bar area and lobby. Not even a recording to review. I swallow the lump in my throat as my heart starts to race. I just know that at any second now, that man is going to kneel down and grab me out from under the bed. But to my surprise, he merely walks into the bathroom, flipping on the light. He closes the door, but not all the way. Still, I realize, this might be my best and only shot at escaping. I take a deep breath and summon every ounce of strength and courage in my body, then quickly shimmy out from underneath the bed, still clutching my locket in my hand. I clumsily get to my hands and knees and start crawling toward the door, my heart pounding so painfully in my chest that it’s difficult to even breathe properly. I’m only a few feet away-- I’m so close to freedom, to yanking open the door, hopping to my feet, and making a break for the elevator. I can get to the hallway and start screaming for help. I can grab hold of whoever comes walking by, hide behind a guest or a busboy or something, anything to put some distance between my body and the killer in the bathroom. But my bid for freedom is cut short just as I reach up for the shiny golden doorknob. Two large hands grab hold of my shoulders and yank me back, hooking under my arms to pull me up to my feet and drag me backwards. I open my mouth to scream, but a hand hastily shoves between my lips. I instinctively bite down, but the hand doesn’t budge. This guy has a pretty damn high tolerance for pain, totally unruffled by my weak attempt to fight back. He is way, way stronger than I am. I realize with a jolt that not only is he much taller and broader than I expected, he’s also startlingly, bizarrely good-looking. All this time I’ve been picturing some brutish, middle-aged caveman. But instead, the face of the man looking down at me with fierce green eyes looks more like that of a menswear model in a magazine. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, sleek nose, intense dark eyebrows, and again, those bright green eyes. I’m so startled by his looks that I forget to fight back as he shoves me down onto the bed. I scoot back against the pillows, pulling my knees to my chest and making myself as small as possible. He rounds on me, looming over the bed and glaring down at me. He’s not in a rush. His movements are measured, controlled, like a jaguar stalking his prey. This is it, I think to myself, this is the last thing I’m going to see before I die.
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❤️About the Author❤️

Alexis Abbott is a Wall Street Journal & USA Today bestselling author who writes about bad boys protecting their girls! Pick up her books today if you can’t resist a bad boy who is a good man, and find yourself transported with super steamy sex, gritty suspense, and lots of romance. She lives in beautiful St. John's, NL, Canada with her amazing husband.
You can find all her books here:
πŸ’œ Amazon πŸ’œ iBooks πŸ’œ Nook πŸ’œ Kobo πŸ’œ Google Play πŸ’œ
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