BEAUTY AND THE BACHELOR by Naima Simone is a sassy, steamy, heartfelt romance that left me wanting more from this talented author. Sydney is a compelling character who is soft yet strong, vulnerable yet a fighter. At times I wanted to cry as she struggles with the guilt she feels over her past, but it was a joy to watch her come into her own and realise how fabulous she truly is. Lucas is a powerful character who sucks the reader in and confuses us. Bitter, angry and determined to use Sydney to seek revenge, we should hate him. We can't because the author weaves us into his story, and as Lucas struggles with his deep feelings for Sydney, we fall in love with him all over again. With plenty of secrets, misconceptions, and passion that will take the roof off, BEAUTY AND THE BACHELOR by Naima Simone has got it all, and I highly recommend it.
She may be the highest bidder, but this bachelorβs
price is blackmail and passionβ¦
Billionaire Lucas Oliver is hell bent on revenge. And his
plan begins when Sydney Blake-the
stunning daughter of his enemy-is tricked into bidding on
Lucas at a bachelor auction. Then
he serves up a little blackmailβ¦followed by a marriage
proposal Sydney has no choice but to
accept.
Sydney has been controlled by her family her
whole life. When Lucas threatens to
reveal her fatherβs shady business, she is once again
forced to do her duty for her family. But
worse-oh so much worse-is the rush of lust that Lucas
ignites in her blood.
Lucas is
determined to make Sydney suffer, but itβs tough when he
canβt keep from touching her-or
thinking about touching her-all the time. Sheβs not
fairing much better since sheβs engaged
to a darkly handsome beast intent on destroying her
entire familyβ¦along with her heart.
EXCERPT
βRegrets already, Sydney?β Lucas asked, the question a
low ripple in the silent room.
βNo.β Once more Sydney studied him. The piercing green-
blue eyes that had blazed with scorching heat less than
an hour ago but were now shuddered, impassive. The almost
lush, sensual curve of his mouth that contrasted with the
sharply hewn planes of his face. The hard, strong line of
his jaw. The harsh imperfection of the scar that was
perfect on him.
Confusion commingled, mated with the blush of arousal.
Questions and concernsβshe had dozens of those. But
regret? No.
βDoes it bother you?β He plucked up a slice of chicken
and popped it into his mouth. God, it wasnβt fair that he
made eating with his fingers sexy, too.
She blinked, refocusing on their conversation. But
couldnβt follow. Heβd lost her.
She frowned. βThat we had sex?β
βNo. The scar. You were staring at it. Does it bother
you?β No emotion or inflection in the question, just a
flat monotone that he couldβve used to ask the time of
day.
Like the first time heβd asked that question three weeks
agoβGod, had it only been three weeks since heβd exploded
into her life?βthe quick βNot at allβ rose to her tongue,
hovered there. But at the last instant, she didnβt utter
the three words. Because they would be a lie.
βYes,β she murmured. Something flared in his gazeβ
something old and dark before it became as opaque as
before. βBut not for the reasons you probably think.β She
turned more fully toward him, tucking her foot under her
thigh. βWhen I first met you, of course I noticed the
scar. But I wasnβt repulsed. I ached for you. For the
pain you mustβve endured. It bothered me that you
suffered.β A scowl started to crease his brow, and she
shot up her hand, palm out. βI donβt pity you. No one who
looks at you could ever feel sorry for you. Youβre tooβ¦
dangerous for that.β She huffed out a short bark of
laughter. βI remember thinking you resembled a panther.
Dark. Stunning. But predatory. The mark isnβt a sign of
your weakness but your strength. Your power to fight and
survive. I find itβ¦β She paused, weighed the judgment of
revealing this particular truth.
He watched her like the animal sheβd mentioned, his
scrutiny steady, unblinking, as if searching her for any
hint of a lie. Sighing, she rose from the bed, careful
not to jostle the tray. She approached him, moved between
his legs, and cupped his face.
βI find it beautiful,β she whispered. Then laid a gentle
kiss to the ridged flesh beneath his right eye before
placing another on the twin scar that bisected his
eyebrow. βI find you beautiful,β she confessed against
his skin.
His hands clutched her waist. Other than the tiny flexing
of his fingers, he remained as still as a statue. No,
that wasnβt true. His eyes blazed with a fire that burned
her.