THE HOTTER YOU
BURN
The Original
Heartbreakers
New York Times
bestselling author Gena Showalter is back with a sizzling Original
Heartbreakers tale featuring a troubled playboy and the woman he can’t resist…
Beck Ockley is
ruthless in the boardroom...and the bedroom. He's never been with the same
woman twice, and vows he never will. With a past as twisted as his, meaningless
sex keeps the demons at bay. His motto: One and done. No harm, no foul.
Harlow Glass is
the most hated girl in town. The beautiful artist is penniless, jobless and
homeless. When she sneaks into Beck's home—her ancestral estate—for food, she's
shocked by his early return...and her immediate, sizzling and intense
attraction to him.
For the first time
in Beck's life, he can't get a woman out of his mind. All too soon, friendship
blooms into obsession and he'll have to break her heart...or surrender his own.
THE HOTTER YOU BURN
GENA SHOWALTER
$7.99 U.S./$8.99 CAN.
ISBN-13: 978-0-373-77969-7
ON SALE 7/28/15
GENA
SHOWALTER
Gena Showalter is a New
York Times and USA Today bestselling author whose
works have appeared in Cosmopolitan and
Seventeen magazines, as well as Entertainment Weekly. Her novel Red Handed has been optioned by Sony
Television. Critics have called her books “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly
spellbinding stories,” while Showalter herself has been called “a star on the
rise.” Her mix of humor, danger and wickedly hot sex provides wildly sensual
page-turners sure to enthrall.
Pre-Order Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1AKgfXQ
Social Media Links:
Website: http://members.genashowalter.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/@genashowalter
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/genashowalter
Excerpt
“I’d like to hire you to paint my portrait.”
Harlow almost bounced out of her seat, but caught
herself with a single thought. Can’t appear too
hasty. “Okay,” she said, playing with the
edge of a piece of paper. “If you insist. And if the price is right.” She’d
drawn countless images of Beck, but the thought of painting him to scale and
seeing him in full color intoxicated her. She could play with different shades
of gold, brown and bronze, and even a wealth of greens to get the emerald
flecks hidden so deeply in his eyes just right.
Maybe Kimberly had nailed it. Maybe Harlow had
stared at Beck for reasons that had nothing to do with the job.
“Name a figure.” He slowly, leisurely, walked back
to the couch and eased down, the whiskey in hand. “Whatever it is, lollipop, I’ll
pay it.”
The new endearment startled her, considering he
hadn’t used one these past three weeks. The fact that he’d gone with lollipop,
something sweet and edible he’d never called the others…
I’m special to him.
Oh, no, no, no. Red alert! Red alert!
That was the true danger of him. Somehow, he made everyone
feel special.
“That’s a daring thing to say,” she stated quietly.
“But true nonetheless.”
She placed her elbows on the desk and leaned
forward. “Very well. The price is…” Inspiration struck, and she smiled evilly.
“You can’t have sex for a week.”
His eyes narrowed to tiny slits, but he appeared
far from angry. “Why do you care about my sex life?”
“I care about you, and I think abstinence will
help build character.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “You care? Very well, I
accept.” No time to celebrate. “With two caveats,” he added. “The week won’t
start until the painting is done.” He
smiled now, and it was a wicked one. “Also, I want the painting to be a nude.”
Her breath caught in her throat, only to exit on a
gust. “I…you…excuse me?”
“A nude. Meaning I won’t be wearing any clothing.
If you want to strip down, that’ll be okay too.”
This was punishment for daring to impede his sex
life, wasn’t it? “I’ve never actually painted or even drawn what you’re
suggesting, and I’m not sure I have the skill.” Or if she would survive.
“I have complete faith in your ability. And as an
artist, a professional, I’ll expect you to view me strictly
through objective eyes. You can do that, can’t you?”
“Of course,” she said. She could absolutely, one
hundred percent view him through objective eyes…if he wore a cloak of
invisibility. But even then it would be iffy. “Why do you want a nude?” she
demanded, hoping to shame him into retracting his request.
“Maybe I enjoy the thought of disrobing for you.” His
voice had gone low and husky, a caress of unfettered temptation, making her
shiver. “Maybe I like the thought of your eyes on my bare skin and your hands
forming the shapes of my body.”
She gulped. Having only ever dealt with boys,
never with men, she had no idea how to respond to so blatant a statement.
“Or,” he said, his voice returning to its normal
fun, flirty tone. “Maybe I’m narcissistic and want to immortalize every inch of
myself. How is one to know?”
How indeed. “When would you like to start?”
“Tonight.”
I’m going to
hate myself for reminding him of this, but…
“What about your date? I can’t—won’t—hurt Kimberly.”
“I think we both know she was about to cancel on
me. Which makes me wonder what the two of you were discussing.”
Shifting uncomfortably, she said, “I will never
betray a confidence.”
“I could change your mind, but I won’t. I admire
your mindset.” His gaze dropped to the pulse fluttering in her neck. “I’ll
arrive at seven, and I’ll bring dinner.”
“Yes. I’d like that.” A lot. And it wasn’t the
thought of food that made her heart race, but the thought of having him in her
space. Alone…naked. Within reach.
She sucked in a breath. Oh…crap. The worst had
happened, hadn’t it?
Kimberly had figured it out, but Harlow had done
her best to deny it until the truth practically vibrated in her bones. How had
she ever
fooled herself into thinking she could fall for West…when she’d already fallen
for Beck?
“What’s wrong, dove?” he asked gently. He came
around the desk and sat at the edge, turning her chair to trap her between his
legs. “You were twinkles one moment, sullen the next.”
He always read her so well, while she always
struggled to make sense of his moods. Life wasn’t fair. “It’s nothing I want to
discuss right now,” she said, refusing to lie to him. But she had
to talk to someone about this.
Who? She had no confidants, and any secrets she
revealed to others could be used as a weapon against her. A game of “humiliate
Harlow for sport.”
“What will it take to get you to trust me, hmm?”
Was he serious? “Beck, for the past three weeks
you’ve treated me like I’m a carrier of cholera. Why do you want my
trust?”
“You’re my friend.”
But I want to be more. “Yes,” she
said, and cleared her throat. “You’re right. I am.”
“So talk to me like a friend. Share your past with
me. Tell me what changed you in high school.”
Her mouth went dry. Always they circled back to
this. “Forget I agreed to be your friend. We’re enemies.”
“You’ll tell me what’s easy, but nothing that’s
hard.”
“I don’t like to think about what changed me. It
hurts.”
“Pain fades. Rip off the bandage and give the
wound a chance to heal.”
“No.” If she told him, she’d have to show him. If
she showed him, he’d never want her again. And right now he wanted her. He had
to. The way he was looking at her…
He leaned down until his nose almost brushed
against hers. “One day, Harlow, you’ll open up to me.”
“One day,” she whispered. “Maybe. But probably
not.”
He cupped her nape, the heat of him making her gasp.
“Definitely. And in more ways than one. I’ll make sure of it.”
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