Friday, May 30, 2014






Cassandra Larsen is not the type to give in. But Carlo Leone is not the type to give

up. The 27 year old CEO of a prominent industrial company, Carlo is rich. Powerful. And

devastatingly handsome. Tragic events in his past have caused him to be guarded, to view

women as playthings in a provocative game he and his colleague created. When Carlo

meets 21 year old Cassandra at the horse stable he owns, he is instantly drawn to her

beauty and feisty nature, but beneath her spunk, there is vulnerability and want. She will

be a challenge--a perfect candidate for the contest. 

Wary of relationships due to her rocky history, Cassandra is determined to resist

Carlo’s smoldering eyes and maddening charm. Will she surrender? And will Carlo

discover that this has become more than just a game--before it’s too late? 


Late-day sunlight blazing in from the open door at the end of the barn swathed the visitor in a brilliant glow. Cassandra narrowed her eyes against the glare. It was a man. As he came into view, she could see that he was attractive. Correction: very, very attractive. Perfectly tousled, thick black hair and a broad-shouldered build tapering to a fit waist. His attire was completely inappropriate for a barn: a pristine white dress shirt, dark pants (which looked to be tailored), expensive-looking shiny shoes. A pair of aviator sunglasses hung in the V at the top of his shirt. He walked with confidence and purpose and style. Masculine elegance, Cassandra thought, as color unexpectedly rushed to her cheeks.

She felt a twinge of excitement edged with uneasiness as he approached. Random men didn't usually visit Windswept, unless they were accompanied by a horse-crazy young daughter or seeking riding lessons for said daughter. This man definitely did not look like a dad.

Cassandra returned her attention to filling the water pail, then decided it was rude to not at least greet him. Adjusting the valve to slow the stream of water, she turned toward him. He had slowed his steps, looking at the empty stalls with a stern, almost brooding expression.

Anxiety bubbled up inside her with each step he took. Don't be an idiot over some random guy, she chided herself. You should know better by now.

Cassandra decided he might be lost and in need of directions. When he was two stalls away from her, she addressed him. “Hello. Can I help you?”

The man stopped. His expression seemed to brighten, his lips parting slightly. He took a few steps closer until he was standing just a few feet away. Cassandra drew in her breath. Oh, God. He had a beautiful mouth, a classic Grecian nose and eyes the color of smoke with just a hint of blue, hooded by thick but neatly-trimmed black eyebrows.

His face was deeply tanned, a striking contrast to the crisp white shirt, and although Cassandra was not usually a fan of facial hair, the shadow of a mustache and goatee gave him an aura that hinted rebellion.

As a child, Remy was an avid reader and writer, bringing stacks of books

everywhere she went and scribbling stories in a thick spiral notebook.

She heard somewhere that you should have a career based on what you loved to do

when you were 10, and she would love nothing more than to follow that advice.


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