Today we have the cover reveal of Breaking Grace by Rose Devereux! Check out the gorgeous cover and teasers, and grab your copy October 24th!
Two years ago, I murdered the love of Grace Garrett’s life. I had it all – a thriving company, money, women at my beck and call. Then I shot and killed James Winthrop. And got away with it. His beautiful fiancé is ruined, so damaged she’s destroying herself. And I’m the reason why. Nothing and nobody can save her. Except me. Only I know how to help her start again. By wiping the slate clean. Breaking her down until she’s brand new. And rewarding her obedience with the one thing she truly needs. Vengeance against me.
She walks into the courtroom and everyone stops breathing. Except for me. I breathe harder. Blood surges through my body like a dam just broke, flooding every distant vein. I flex my fists. The instinct to fuck on sight is so strong I can barely stay in my chair. It isn’t because she’s beautiful, though she is. Or dressed to kill, ditto. She’s wearing a cream silk blouse tucked into a skinny, ass-skimming skirt and high-heeled sandals that tie like a little suede rope around her ankles. If they’re supposed to make me think of all the things I could do to her, mission accomplished. Chin high, she strides past the first row of seats. Heads swivel. The chatter stops. Here she comes, the lovely grieving widow. Not exactly widow. Fiancé. And she’s practically a child, only twenty-three. When Dolly Parton wrote Jolene, she was imagining a girl like Grace Garrett. With flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green. The lyrics are like Grace’s own personal Missing poster. Along with a list of the things I jerk off to every night. There are a few descriptives Dolly didn’t think of, like a click-bait body and a stern, craggy-faced minister for a father. This chick was born for social media. The press loves her. She’s got a good-girl pedigree, and she looks amazing no matter what she’s doing. Sitting, walking, crying, or wishing me stone-cold dead. That’s the part everyone is here to see. The silent explosion when our eyes meet. The epic, David and Goliath battle between her and me. Evil on one side, good on the other. That’s what makes me hard. What can I say? I’ve always liked contrast. Grace doesn’t care if I’m taller, richer, stronger, smarter, and better-looking than anyone she’s ever met. She knows the world loves an underdog, and she’s going to take me down. She’s here to show everyone what a bastard I am. As if they don’t already know. My proclivities have been the stuff of gossip for years. I run with a crowd so wealthy and twisted, there are no limits. When the jury looks at me, they think they know me. They put rumor and wishful thinking together, and create the perfect monster. And they love it. Something makes a brutal sort of sense in their world, and that something is me. If only they knew what Grace knows, and I know. They’d discover that they’ve got the story backwards. I’m not the villain in this tragic drama. She is.