Golden Shana: The Chase
by A P von K'Ory,
GENRE: Erotic Romantic Suspense
BLURB:
An evening at the La Scala in Milan twirls the lives of five people into a web of rivalry, intrigues, heartaches, obsession, murder, loss, and revenge.
“… for those who love selective eroticism with substance. An exciting and sophisticated erotic thriller for the astute romance reader, woman or man.”
Love, a word Roman can hardly spell, hits him when he sees Shana one evening. She’s the first woman not dropping to her knees at his mere presence. Used to getting whatever he wants, he chases her. Only to discovers that she prefers the girls. Roman can’t let that deter him. But is he for once up against his own comeuppance? At any rate, he needs assistance, which comes in the form of Alyssa, Shana’s BFF. Trouble crops up when Alyssa is all too ready and willing to drop on her knees for him.
Roman can't get anywhere near Shana on his own. Would he start anything with Alyssa as long as this finally leads him to meet Shana in person?
Then there’s Marie, his current companion, who has a life-changing surprise for him.
Roman: I never chased after a woman. Then I caught a glimpse of the woman I would kneel for, but didn’t even know her name. Heck, I determined to find her if it took me the rest of my life.
Shana: He stood in the room with her. The frisson in the currents freaking between them knocked her senseless. The mutual force of predator and prey, blasting into her core ... her soul ... Danger. Keep far away from him
Excerpt:
“Marie, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Roman! I could ask you the same.” Her eyes flitted from Bastian to Roman. Bastian had a surprised look on his face that must have matched her own. Here was Europe’s most loaded Adonis heartthrob he’d just mentioned a moment ago.
“I’m here to take you home.” Then he leant in closer to her face. “Both of you.”
This arrogant bastard! “Roman, I’m here to enjoy my Saturday night with my sister and Monika. You said you weren’t coming back to us!” She stressed the us so strongly that it came out like a violent hiss. She was almost livid with rage. Roman had no right to simply butt in on her evening and start claiming rights! He was the one who walked out on them. He was the one who ended their relationship over the phone! He was… shit!
Roman thumped on Bastian’s chest so hard that Bastian had to be held steady by several dancers to stop him toppling over. “You – whoever you are – keep your fucking hands off her!” Most dancers stopped dancing to watch the show. Roman stepped forward to now spit all that in Bastian’s face, their foreheads almost knocking, Roman bending down to make up for the height he had over Bastian. “Have I made myself understood?” he roared, and she feared he might actually hit his forehead on Bastian’s.
Like a pair of rutting bucks.
Her fury mingled with the fact that even with all of it, Roman inflamed her longing for him, ignited a burst of desire in her for him. Roman in all his infuriating masculine sexiness and stunning perfection that demanded attention like he was some sort of danger or magnificent delight. All eyes, male and female, were on him. She couldn’t believe that she felt a twinge of jealousy at the ogling women. God, was she for real?
But he looked absolutely delicious in light trousers and navy polo shirt and leather belt, Clarks Trimocc Sun, no socks. As if he was about to board his yacht and go for a cool long drink in the middle of the ocean. His clothes didn’t fight with his muscles, they complemented each other. That look and his air of absolute self-confidence, coupled with the aggression, were clitoris activators. The throbbing between her legs killed her.
Why couldn’t he see that he was the only one for her, the Neanderthal jerk?
Interview with A P von K'Ory,
What group did you hang out with in high school?
Coming from my archconservative background, I was always a bit reserved. So the first thing I had to learn after finding my freedom was how to deal with that freedom. No caretaker following me around making sure I played the right games with the “right sort”, yet suddenly alone among strangers and far away from home. Like learning how to toddle and then walk and then run all over again. Being a novelty of sorts and in the minority group among a sea of English girls, I never lacked for “mates” vying to have me in their groups. I have to admit I rather enjoyed all the attention, coming from a background that was so restrictive. After I singled out who was my “bestest friend” I simply solved the problem by sticking to the group she belonged.
What are you passionate about these days?
Helping talented but poor African children get an education. It’s an unbelievable joy to watch children who think going to school is like going to heaven and are so devoted to learning. Then seeing that talent come to fruition and finally reach their finishing line and achieve their goals.
If you had to do your journey to getting published all over again, what would you do differently?
I think I’d listen to my publishing editor and agent a lot more and consider their suggestions before dismissing them. I happen to be not only a miserable marketing person but also severely tech-challenged. Sometimes it’s frustrating to work so hard and not have enough people sharing the final results with you because you’re not equipped with that battery of sales and advertising people. But I kept my agent for my nonfiction works.
Ebook or print? And why?
Personally, I definitely prefer print, and the operative word is prefer. EBooks come in very handy especially when travelling or on holiday. You can take your entire library with you everywhere you go.
What is your favorite scene in this book?
The scene where Roman learns that his ex-girlfriend is awaiting his child. Imminent fatherhood is one of the greatest conflicts he has to deal with in the book. But what makes the scene a favourite is the hilarity, generated by Roman’s amazing ignorance about pregnancies. And he’s so protective of his unborn baby that he refuses to listen to reason and pays the ex-girlfriend millions to sign various contracts with regard to sex during her pregnancy, and until the baby no longer breastfeeds. Here is one of the crazy hilarious passages:
Marie felt the colour leave her face, and then come flooding back again.
“You are forbidding me sex for three years, Roman?” Or had she read wrong?
He met her gaze without blinking, the bastard. “Certainly not, Marie. But as long as you’re pregnant, and then nursing, no man should shove his fucking cock in you, with my baby in there or still dependent on you for his nourishment. No man will fuck your breasts when you’re breastfeeding my baby. Have all the sex you want, Marie. But no penetration during the pregnancy, no tit-shagging thereafter. If you read on you will see that I’m willing to compensate you handsomely for it. Here.”
He tapped at the fat print. A seven-figure million euros.
“Half in advance, after you sign all these contracts, the other half after the baby is born and is no longer dependent on your breastfeeding as his source of nourishment,” he added in all seriousness.
“How else should I have sex if penetration is not…” she started in her anger and stopped herself too late. She could see it in his lopsided grin.
“Read on,” he encouraged her with that grin in place. “Go on.”
She read on, raised her teary eyes back to him. “I shouldn’t swa…?” God!
“What you swallow goes to my baby too. That’s why you should eat healthy.”
It wasn’t only the swallowing. She was to also use her toothpaste and a mouthwash after spitting it all out immediately after oral reception of the ejac...
God really created this man to punish her.
“It’s my body, Roman, not yours. I’ll do what I like with my own body, damn it!” This man who could make her feel so special, who could take care of her as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him, who could pleasure her and humble her at the same time, was possibly the most humiliating obnoxious being she ever met.
He sat down on her coffee table before her, his eyes ablaze, and leant in on her.
“Now, listen to me, Marie. I don’t give a toss what you do with your fucking body once my baby is born safely. Till then you’re not going to fuck—shut up and listen to me! You. Are. Not. Going. To. Fuck. Men. With. My. Baby. Inside. You! Full fucking stop!”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
A P von K’Ory writes the kind of books she herself would like to read and is passionate about, whether romance, psychological thriller or nonfiction. She is the winner of six awards from four continents, the last one being the Achievers Award for Writer of the Year 2013 in the Netherlands. The Selmere Integration Prize was awarded her in 2014 for her engagement in helping African Women in the Diaspora cope with a variety of domestic and social problems. The Proposal, a short story, won the Cook Communications first prize in 2010 and is published in an American anthology Africa 2012. In 2012, she won the Karl Ziegler Prize for her commitment to bring African culture to Western society in various papers, theses, and lectures. Again in 2012, her book Bound to Tradition: The Dream was nominated for the 2012 Caine Prize by the Author-me Group, Sanford, and in 2013 she was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize.
Von K'Ory is married to an aristocrat and politician of Franco-German descent, has a large extended family. She lectures Economics and Sociology in Austria, Germany and Switzerland. She’s migratory and – weather willing – lives in Germany, France, Cyprus, and Greece.
She may be reached at any of the following:
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2 comments:
Thank you ever so much, Avid Reader, for kindly hosting my work. I sincerely appreciate this.
Thanks for this excerpt!!
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