INTERNATIONAL BEST SELLING AUTHOR
It had to be her. He won’t be satisfied until he claims her.
Kennedy Aldrich has perfected the art of dodging any romantic entanglement that will lead to marriage. That is until he sees Mackenzie Farrell at a BDSM gathering.
When they meet, he’s entranced by her intelligence and submission, not to mention her stunning good looks. For the first time, he has met a woman who captivates his interest on every level, someone he wants to share his life with.
Mackenzie is overwhelmed by Kennedy’s attentions. A failed marriage taught her to distrust men, and she’s vowed never to walk down the aisle again.
It takes all her resolve to resist the devilishly handsome Dominant. After all, the whole world knows of his legendary reputation with women. Every feminine instinct warns that this man will demand more than she can offer.
But she hasn’t counted on Kennedy’s determination to claim her and prove that love is worth any risk.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of anal play.
General Release Date: 28th November 2014
“Kinky as fuck?”
Kennedy Aldrich put down the bottle of whiskey he’d just picked up. Somewhat bemused, he looked at his best friend, Julien Bonds. “The rumors about my alleged sexual conduct reached the hallowed halls of Silicon Valley?” Kennedy asked. “I would have thought you were more insulated than that.”
“Oh, hell no. I subscribe to all the trashy gossip sites and I get alerts when your name shows up on the Internet. How else would I keep up with all the salacious details of your life? And since I myself am celibate…”
“A regular monk,” Kennedy scoffed.
“Chastity is good for the soul,” Julien said, steepling his hands together.
“So I’ve heard.” Kennedy again picked up the squat, square-shaped bottle of whiskey and used his thumbnail to break the elegant wax seal.
“Classy,” Julien observed.
“Only the best for you.”
“Brilliant marketing,” Julien countered.
And Julien would know. When the man had started his electronics company, he’d been an innovator in packaging. When it came to the high-end goods they invested in, they knew they were selling an experience as much as a product.
“I assume you’ve thought about accessories?” Julien asked.
“The premium bottles will come in leather cases. And these glasses will be on the market in time for holiday giving.” He nodded toward a nosing glass. The base was more pedestal than stem, masculine and tasteful, but it was elegant enough to appeal to their target female audience. The union of perfection—beauty and function. The bottom of the glass was blown into the shape of large teardrop. It narrowed a bit toward the top before shaping outward again.
“Never seen anything like them.”
“They have similar ones at distilleries in Ireland and Scotland. But these are unique in our market, etched with the logo and customizable, for a price. Which is why I wanted to buy the company.”
Julien tapped his index fingers together while Kennedy poured a dram into each glass.
“We’ll also have gift package available, two glasses and a bottle, shipped in a wooden storage box, with the brand stamped into it.”
Kennedy picked up the glasses and gave one to Julien.
They both swirled the amber-colored liquid. Kennedy knew that, per ounce, the stuff didn’t cost much less than gold.
Julien held the crystal near his nose, inhaled, then drew it closer. “Do I scent honey? And…” He took another sniff and frowned. “Peat?”
“Could be.”
“In an American batch?”
“I promised I would keep the distiller’s secrets.”
“Well done. They’ll make excellent corporate gifts.”
A photo of Julien sipping the whiskey would enable the company to sell hundreds of kegs of liquor, but Kennedy knew better than to ask.
“So, the kinky as fuck love affair,” Julien began. “Was it as good as Whatever-Her-Name-Is made it sound?”
“Chantelle Eloise,” he corrected. “There was no sex video. And no, I didn’t slice her clothes off with a knife and put her in a pair of stocks.”
“And the cattle prod?”
Kennedy raised his eyebrows.
“No cattle prod. How disappointing. But you were tempted, surely?”
“If I’d have known…”
“Her story was better than yours,” Julien said. “Much more entertaining. Next you’ll be telling me she didn’t throw the engagement ring back at you at an expensive hotel in Paris. Or that, because you’re a bastard, you flew back to the United States without her, leaving her heartbroken, sobbing and stranded with no way to pay the bill.”
“It was a good story,” Kennedy admitted. “But there was no proposal. I have no intention of shoving my head in the matrimonial noose. If I did, it wouldn’t be for Chantelle.” He sighed. “If the press had done their research, they’d have discovered I was in Boston at the time.”
“Her interview got over a hundred thousand hits.”
“You checked?”
“I did.”
“So what, you were fifty thousand of those views?”
“All that tragedy, with those streaks of mascara marring her gorgeous face. Who could resist?”
“Chantelle only cares about her acting career,” Kennedy said with little hostility. And he was sure the rumors had done wonders to help her along.
“Now that she’s ruined any hope of becoming the future Mrs. Aldrich, won’t she be bored? After all, there’s no place but down after you’ve been with a guy who’s kinky as fuck.”
“She’s already found solace in the arms of a movie producer.”
The scandal with Chantelle hadn’t hurt any of Kennedy’s businesses, though it had made his mother’s annual garden soiree on Martha’s Vineyard more entertaining than usual.
Jacqueline Aldrich had spent six months planning the gathering and refining the guest list. Since he’d turned thirty, she’d doubled her resolve to find him a bride. Not just any woman, but a pedigree one, preferably from a family who could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower—despite the fact that her side of the family could not.
To his mother’s relief, only a few people had canceled. At the gathering, several matrons had sent him scandalized sideways glances, but it hadn’t seemed to lessen his stock as potential son-in-law material. One woman had actually told him she hoped her daughter now had a better chance with him. A wealthy financier, a gentleman in his late eighties, had patted Kennedy on the back.
After clinking glasses, Kennedy and Julien relaxed and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Currently, they were on the eighth floor of the Old Bronwyn Building, a property acquired by Kennedy’s grandfather more than half a century before and renamed for his grandmother.
Even before the building’s most recent renovation, he’d liked this quiet nook. Now it was even better. A world-class steakhouse occupied most of the space, attracting business moguls, sports stars and lovers. Deals were made, lives were changed.
He and Julien were ensconced in one of the private rooms adjoining the elegant bar.
Kennedy had realized that women were as likely to be dealmakers as men, and he’d hired a firm to create a space that avoided the previous century’s tradition of bulky wood pieces and dark colors. Instead, it was neutral, clean, crisp.
No doubt illicit liaisons also happened here. Hell, even he’d been tempted. But the privacy allowed executives to make deals away from the hungry ears of competitors and members of the press. And for him, in a city where he was recognized, where the details of his life were examined under a microscopic lens of scrutiny, he appreciated places he could go and not be seen.
“Nice view,” Julien observed.
“It’s become one of my favorites,” Kennedy agreed.
Julien was right about the view. From here, they could see the State Street Plaza rising from the pavement, taking shape, forever altering the skyline. “I figured you’d want to see it for yourself,” he said to Julien.
“You’re right. Pictures, updates, videos… Nothing can make you feel it.”
He should have known Julien would understand. Pixels couldn’t capture the breathtaking awe created by something that dominated the landscape.
A decade ago, the State Street Plaza had been nothing more than an idea scratched on a piece of paper. It had taken his father seven years to put together the consortium to acquire the needed financing and break ground. Three years later, it was almost complete.
Despite numerous delays and legal wrangling, the crown jewel in the Aldrich Real Estate Holdings empire was only months away from completion. The spire of the architecturally breathtaking twisted glass building clawed its way into the thick, ominous October clouds.
When complete, it would go on record as the tallest structure in Boston and serve as the site of the corporate headquarters for Aldrich Enterprises. It would house a half a million square feet of exclusive shops, restaurants and clubs. In a stunning coup, one of Julien’s stores was going to anchor the retail space. When he debuted a new product, people would be able to line up inside, rather than braving the elements.
Most importantly, the Plaza would house more than two hundred luxury lofts, all bearing the city’s newest, most prestigious address.
Kennedy was ridiculously proud to be part of it. That he was so dedicated to the project shocked him on some level. As he’d grown up, he’d thought of little but escape. And run he had. He’d told his parents that he’d applied to the University of Texas for his undergraduate degree because the school was renowned for business but the truth was, he’d chosen it because Texas was about as culturally different from Boston as he could get while still remaining in the United States. Moving away for college was the biggest rebellion he’d been allowed to have.
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