Sunday, August 26, 2012

Spotlight On: Leslie Ferdinand and her book Wicked Allure

Multicultural Erotic Romance with Adults Only Content, explicit language and some drug use.

What Does A Man Say to the Woman He Betrayed But Never Stopped Loving?

Three years ago, Zachary Steele refused to entertain thoughts of permanency with any woman. A hedonist at heart, he didn’t want to corrupt the much younger, Madigan DeLeon, by continuing his affair with her. With the hidden scars of his past, he didn’t believe in happily-ever-after. By the time he realized how much Madigan meant to him, he’d driven her away. Then, one night, after being clean for a number of years, Zach briefly falls off the bandwagon. He believes his lovemaking to Madi is a drug-induced hallucination. The resulting consequences tell another story.

What Does A Woman Do When the Only Man She’s Ever Loved Hurt Her So Deeply She Feared She’d Never Recover?

Three years after her affair with Zach so abruptly ended, celebutante, Madigan DeLeon, is thrust back into Zach’s life by her mother’s machinations. Brought home under the false pretenses of repairing her damaged relationship with her mother, Madi instead finds herself running a private sex club called Wicked Allure. Forced to confront her anger at his betrayal and grief at the loss of what might’ve been, Madi faces the realization that she’s never stopped loving Zach.

Can Two Broken Hearts Set Aside Anger and Betrayal to Find True Love Once and For All?

Searching the deepest recesses of their hearts, in a place where pride and pain has no room, Madi and Zach must decide if their bond is strong enough to take a second chance at love. Or if resuming their sexual relationship is an irresistible wicked allure and the ghosts of their former relationship will finally, and forever, sever all ties between them
The sound exploded from Zachary Steele’s mouth as he climbed into bed and collided with a warm body.  He swore the room had been empty when he’d walked in.  Frowning, he searched his memory, realizing he wasn’t certain if he’d been alone or not.  He’d come in, amazed at how big his penthouse suddenly seemed to him.  After gazing around, impressed by the sheer size of this one room, he’d laid out four lines of coke on the highly polished nightstand, snorted two, then went into the bathroom.
Once he’d returned to the bedroom, he’d turned off the lights and sat on the couch near the fireplace for a long while.  He’d forgotten how long he’d sat in the gloom, as black as the void in his life.  Seeing no good about ruminating on his past mistakes, he’d gotten into the bed, and found it already occupied.
Had he really gotten that wasted that he didn’t know where he was or who he was with?  He was supposed to be at his apartment, but, while he had a familiarity with this room, it was unfamiliar as well.
He squinted, unable to see much in the darkness.  Unsteadily, he turned and flicked on the bedside lamp.  Two small lines of white powder remained.  The room was spinning, the combination of coke and scotch buzzing through his veins.  The thought persisted that something was off about his bedroom.  The hunter green and gold d├ęcor didn’t seem right.  Neither could he remember purchasing the paintings of correlating scenes from an African hunt that marched along the room’s long walls. 
At the fuzzy edges of his brain, he knew those paintings and knew they shouldn’t be in his house.  Hell, he wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here.  One moment he was dancing with Karolyn, his business partner, at her birthday party, and the next he was imagining he was floating above the crowd.  Flying high.
He laughed, loud in the still silence of his surroundings.  He sure as shit was flying high, but not because he’d suddenly sprouted wings.
Zach jerked around at the sound of his name.  A voice went with the warm body he’d collided with.  Not a voice.  Her voice.  Soft, sexy, curling through him like wisps of smoke.  His laughter must have awakened her.  His mind immediately rejected the notion that she was really in bed next to him. Madigan couldn’t be here.  She didn’t even know where he lived anymore.
She was stirring beside him and sitting up, the sheets rustling with her movements.  The lamplight bathed her honey colored skin with a golden glow.  Exotically high cheekbones set in a delicate face attested to the melting pot of her heritage: African-American, Native American, with a smattering of French and Spanish.  The black silk sheet she held around her breasts contrasted perfectly with her beautiful complexion.  Dark hair hung past the graceful curve of her shoulders, cradling her lovely face in a cloud of thick waves.   She appeared so fragile and vulnerable.  Young.  He drew his brows together, reminding himself that she was all of those things.  He was the sonofabitch who’d thrown her aside. 
Madigan’s topaz eyes were hazy, glazed.  Zachary stared at her, baffled, a wild, primitive explosion of pain and sweetness, disbelief and hope bursting through him.  Madi wasn’t a drug user, so she must have been plastered from the expensive champagne that had been served at her mother’s party. 
No, that wasn’t right either.  She hadn’t been at her mother’s party.
“Zachary, what are you doing here?”  Even as she sat next to him, she swayed. 
“You’re in my bed at my house,” he retorted.  “I should be asking you the very same question.”
“I am?”  She shoved a hand through her hair, biting down on her lush lower lip and glancing around at the splendidly furnished room with the high cathedral ceilings and wall of windows that had somehow escaped his attention until then.  A vast panorama of the night-darkened sky studded with brilliant stars stretched before them.  “You should?”
Deep concentration furrowed her brow and she seemed lost, ethereally beautiful, a goddess of the moon who’d bewitched him an eternity ago.
“Are you really here, Zach?” she asked, her sexy-soft voice tinged with disbelief.
“I think so, Madi,” he said, the confession rumbling from deep within his gut.  He wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.  Not the place he thought was his home.  Or the girl in the bed.  “Are you really here?”
She giggled at the absurd question.  Zach was sure she didn’t understand how removed from his mind he felt.
Her slim fingers released the sheet and nipples the color of wild cherries on firm, rounded breasts greeted his hungry gaze.  “Now tell me if you think I’m really here,” she said coyly.
Zach fought through the confusion dazing his mind.  While his penthouse was finely furnished, the rooms were smaller, reflecting a bachelor’s functionality that the opulence of his present surroundings lacked.  Try as he might, he couldn’t force one iota of sanity into his brain, reeling over Madigan’s presence and his strange, but familiar surroundings.
He raised his gaze to her lovely face and reached out to touch her, almost afraid that she would evaporate but unable to restrain himself any longer.  He’d fantasized about touching her for three years, ever since he’d forced her to walk away from him.  Her skin was soft, warm, and fragrant.  His fingers began to roam across her breasts, but then his hand suddenly seemed separated from his body, floating away, into the air, like it had been amputated.  What the hell? 
Right.  He was flying.  High.  He could float away all at once or piece by piece.  It didn’t matter.  The pieces would be put back together after the coke and the alcohol wore off, just like a maddening puzzle that Madigan had always accused him of being.  Swaying, he held up his arms and saw that he once again possessed both hands.  All the better to touch Madigan.  But she was gone, her being there as much a figment of his imagination as his floating appendages.  Zach’s shoulders slumped, disappointment and defeat crushing the euphoria of having Madi with him again.
“Madi,” he said in a bleak, raw voice, hanging his head into his hands.
About the Author:

Leslie C. Ferdinand is the mother/daughter writing team of Leslie C. Megahey and Shirley H. Ferdinand. Previously published as Christine Holden, they released their first Multicultural Erotic Romance in March 2012. Leslie is the founder of Inside Rose Rich Magazine. Wicked Allure is the first title in a series about the DeLeon sisters and the Steele brothers. 

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