Tuesday, September 30, 2014

BT ~ Beneath this Mask by Meghan March


Happy Release Day to Meghan March and her new book BENEATH THIS MASK!!!



My name is Charlotte Agoston, and I’m a runner. Not the ‘let’s go for a jog and slap a 26.2 sticker on your bumper’ kind of runner; I’m the kind of runner who takes off when her father is staring down the barrel of a guilty verdict that carries a 175-year sentence for perpetrating the largest fraud in the history of the world. That’s right. Bernie Madoff was an amateur compared to Alistair Agoston. Faced with living under a cloud of suspicion and constant questioning by the FBI, I ran. I’m making a new life in New Orleans as Charlie Stone. I traded my future in New York high finance for tattoos, booze, a few friends who don’t ask questions, and one giant mutt named Huckleberry Finn. Everything is simple and uncomplicated until Simon Duchesne—former hotshot Navy fighter pilot, NOLA’s favorite son, city councilman, and rumored congressional hopeful—walks into my life. The flashing cameras he attracts threaten to expose everything I’m hiding, but I can’t seem to stay away. Why are the most dangerous ideas always the most seductive? In trying to get lost, I found myself. And then I found Simon. He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name. I’m going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it. This is our story. Will we be strong enough to face the consequences of revealing what’s beneath this mask?

I just finished Beneath This Mask and I really enjoyed it. What a great start for Miss March and I cannot wait to see what else she brings out! How would you feel if you were associated with the most unwanted man in America. He has stolen millions of dollars from innocent people and you are guilty by association due to being his daughter? I would feel humiliated beyond belief. Charlotte leaves right after her testimony, hiding in the world so no one will recognize her. Her transformation went from a good girl to a bad girl, tattoos and all to hide beneath so no one can find her. What she doesn't expect is to meet some loyal friends. Con, Yve, and Delilah. She also has a huge dog by her side named Huck. What more does she need? Here comes Simon. Mr Preppy is more than she can handle. He has his hands in a lot of pies, possibly getting into politics, she cant afford to let herself become lost in a relationship with him and then everyone would know. But she cannot help her attraction for him and he wants more than a one night stand. What is a girl to do? You will just have to read and see how their story unfolds.


I really enjoyed this story. It was a great plot to begin with. This has happened here in the real world, and you don't think of the innocent family when this is going on so for me it was refreshing to read something so original yet real. I thought Miss March did an amazing job with their voices, so much depth, I just honestly couldn't put it down. The banter between Simon and Charlie was hot and I couldn't help but root for Simon. Normally it is the girl so for me this was refreshing.

This is one author that you need to follow. Do not pass this up. You will regret it if you do!

Story 5
Sex 5
Overall 5






 




Excerpt 1

Backing me into a corner, he trapped me in the circle of his arms, much like he had earlier at the gate.

I reached up and laid my palms against his chest, tracing the compass inked on his pectoral muscle

with my index finger. Our skin didn’t touch anywhere else, but mine prickled with the need to feel him

against me. I leaned closer, but he grasped my shoulders, effectively holding me back.

I looked up questioningly.

 “You left me a message, then slammed a gate in my face, then you strip in front of me, and invite me to

go skinny dipping. I can’t keep up with you. I need to know what the hell is going on here before it goes

any further.”

I sagged back against the edge of the pool, letting the concrete lip dig into my spine. So much for my

hastily constructed plan. An experienced seductress I was not. He must have read the defeat in my

expression because he said, “I’m not saying I’m not interested. Hell, I’m buck ass naked, and I can’t

exactly hide that I want you. But I need to know ... why now? What changed?”

I stared down at the water, wishing fleetingly that the pool lights were on so I’d know for certain that

he still did, in fact, want me. But given the leap I’d taken by stripping naked in front of him, I suppose I

owed him at least some sort of an explanation.

“I decided that, for tonight, I didn’t care that you’re you and I’m me. I decided to take a risk and see

what happened.” My answer was vague and without substance, but I hoped it would be enough. Heat

pulsed between my legs and my nipples beaded almost painfully. I wanted him. Now.

But he didn’t relent. “It doesn’t matter who I am or who you are. Tonight or any other night. We’re just

people.”

I held in a snort. Barely. He wouldn’t be in this pool if he knew who I really was. I was poison to someone

like him. To everyone.

Simon tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “If I fuck you tonight, are you going to throw me

out on my ass as soon as we’re done and never call me again?”

I bit my lip. Damn. He should be a freaking interrogator instead of a politician. But I wasn’t going to lie to

him. At least not about this. “Probably.”

He released my chin and backed away. “Then, no.” He shook his head. “This isn’t happening. Not

tonight.” He turned and made his way to the stairs. I caught a flash of his pale, muscular ass as he

climbed out of the pool. I looked down at the water, hot humiliation filling me. What the hell am I

doing? I sank farther beneath the surface, up to my chin. I needed to be covered. I heard the rustle

of clothes and wondered how he was drying off without a towel. But I didn’t look up to assuage my

curiosity. I’d given in to curiosity once already tonight, and this was where it landed me. In a pool of my

own shame.

He cleared his throat, and I finally looked up. He was wearing his tux pants, and the shirt was partially

buttoned. He held his soaked white undershirt in his hand. One question answered.

His hazel eyes drilled into me. “You have my number. Call me when you want more than a quick fuck.”


And then he was gone.

 He reached a hand back and tugged his shirt over his head. I drank in his tanned skin and rippling

muscles. He truly was a beautiful man. He kicked off his shoes and knelt at my feet to pull off my Chucks

without untying the laces. It was a staggering realization to my champagne-soaked brain that he might

have noticed I never untied them. What other details about me had he noticed that no one else would?

I was crazy to think he’d never find out the truth. I never should’ve let it get this far. But how could I stop

myself? He was so ... perfectly imperfect, and I wanted all of him. For every second I could steal.

He reached for his belt and paused. “I’m staying tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

“Okay.” I reached for the hem of my shirt and started to drag it upward. He reached out, covering my

hand with his to stop me.

“But if you take that off, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from having you.”

“Good.” I yanked at his grip, trying to get the shirt off.

He squeezed my hand. “No. Not tonight. The first time we’re together, you’re going to be stone cold

sober, because I want you to remember every single thing I do to you.”

My insides turned hot and liquid. A pulse thrummed between my legs. “You already told me you’d put

out. No take backs. It’s not fair.”

He leaned down and brushed his five o’clock shadow against my cheek before saying into my ear,

“Tough shit.”

He pulled back, and I stuck out my lip and pouted. Simon caught it between his teeth and tugged before

releasing it. “So fucking tempting. You have no idea.” He spun and looked at my bureau. “Pajama pants?

And I know you own them. I distinctly recall a striptease that involved a pair.”

I huffed. “Second drawer from the bottom.” He opened the drawer, pulled out a silky pink pair, and

tossed them at me.

“I’ll be right back. You better not be naked.”

“You’re such a hardass prude, Mr. Duchesne.” He took a step toward the doorway and gripped the top

of the frame. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and his hazel eyes shifted from playful to serious.

“You’re worth the wait.”

He walked out of the room, and I heard the bathroom door shut.

I clutched the pajama pants in my fist as my heart tumbled further down the path of no return. A single

thought crystallized in my head: Fuck. I could fall in love with this man.


Excerpt 3

“I gotta go, babe.” His eyes skimmed over my nude body. “And that blows. I was hoping to stay in bed all

day with you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t remember inviting you to spend the day in my bed.”

“You would have.”

“So cocky.” I trailed a finger down my chest, between my breasts. “You’re lucky I think that’s hot.”

“You don’t play fair.”

My smile transformed into an outright grin as he watched my fingers continue down to my belly.

“Should I?” “Never.”

He crossed to the bed and leaned down to press a quick kiss to my lips.

“Wish I could stay, but I have to take care of something for work. A customer’s cargo is currently sitting

on the bottom of the Mississippi, and I need to clean up the mess.”

I flipped the sheet up and covered myself, suddenly embarrassed that I’d been trying to act the

seductress when he had real world problems to deal with. “It’s fine. Do what you need to do.”

He pulled the sheet away, leaving me naked again. “Like you better this way.” He sat on the bed and

cupped the side of my face in his big hand. “Dinner tonight?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

“Wear a dress. A short one.” My jaw dropped. He said what?

“Seriously? You did not just say that.” “Oh, but I did.” I huffed, tugging the sheet from his grip. “Have

you ever seen me wear a dress? Let alone a short one?” He leaned in and brushed his lips over the shell

of my ear. “I’m going to see it tonight.”

“Cocky bastard,” I said, shivering from the contact. “If it gets you into a dress, I’ll be whatever kind of

bastard you want me to be.” I won the sheet tug-of-war and tucked it around me before crossing my

arms over my chest. “Maybe. No promises.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Short dress. High heels. The same wild, just-been-fucked hair you’ve got going

on right now. That’s how I’m going to be picturing you all day while I sort this shit out.”

I bit my lip and shook my head at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Only about you.” His lips met mine for one more kiss. This one was long, slow, and full of promise of

what was to come. Finally, he pulled away. “See you later, babe.”

He left the room, and I heard the door to my apartment open and close. I uncrossed my arms and

pressed a palm against either side of my face and rubbed upward. I was in way too deep.


Meghan March is a Michigan native who has spent a good portion of her life buried in a book. Case in point: she read the entire romance section of her small town public library by age fourteen. Even after growing up (sort of) and getting a law degree, she never lost her passion for a great story, twisty plot, epic romance, and amazing characters. When she’s not writing, she’s probably reading, target shooting, drooling over fast cars, playing with her crazy mutt, or hanging with her very own sexy bad boy.






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