Could you handle his silence?
The next novel from bestselling author, Eden Summers,
is set to catch your breath. Inarticulate is a contemporary, standalone romance
novel and a read you won’t want to miss.
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Synopsis
At first sight, Savannah is drawn to the
harsh appeal of a man who refuses to talk to her. Keenan’s hard stare is
arrogant and unapologetic. The quirk of his sensuous lips is cocky and in
control.
But there’s more. There’s something deeper
he’s trying to hide behind those steely grey eyes––a slight hint of
vulnerability which captures her intrigue.
She’d been warned, told that his silence
hides a myriad of lies capable of affecting her career and relationships with
loved ones. Only she can't help herself. Testing Keenan's defenses is an
addiction she can't deny.
Falling in lust is easy. Learning his secrets
comes with a price. The cost? Her broken heart.
Excerpt
This is an excerpt
from Inarticulate (a standalone contemporary romance) when the two protagonists
first meet.
She
swung around to the house to hide her smile and bounced up the three stairs
toward the front door. Movement nudged her periphery and she slowed, taking in
the sight of a man standing in the shadows at the far end of the porch. His hip
was cocked against the bannister, his eyes hooded.
Her
concentration latched on to him, unmoving as the world around her dulled to a
faint hum in her mind. She wasn’t sure what intrigued her. It could be his
narrowed stare, the way he didn’t greet her with warmth or kindness. Only
sterile appraisal. Or maybe it was the package his arrogance came in—the tense
expression, stubbled jaw, and lush lips pressed in a tight line.
Her
tongue tingled. Mouth salivated. She would’ve liked to think it was due to the
heavenly aroma of her aunt’s cooking drifting in the air. Would’ve liked to…but
that was a load of bull.
“Hi.”
She gave him a friendly finger wave as Dominic came up behind her.
The
man continued to stare, his face still unwelcoming in the shadows.
“Keenan,
don’t be a prick.” Dominic tugged on her arm, stealing her attention. “Come on.
I’ll introduce you later.”
She
kept her focus on the stranger, their gazes entwined, hers soft and
inquisitive, his harsh and fierce, as her cousin dragged her inside, the door
slamming shut behind them. “Who was—”
“Oh,
my sweet Savannah!” Aunt Michelle hustled up the hall, wiping her hands on an
old apron tied around her waist. “It’s so good to see you.”
The
familiar face held more wrinkles than Savannah remembered, her aunt’s long
blonde hair now gray and thinning. But the beautiful blue eyes were still the
same—loving and gentle.
“It’s
good to see you, too.” She ignored the strangers poking their heads into the
hall from different doorways and fell into a comforting embrace. “Thank you for
the dinner invitation.”
“Oh,
please,” her aunt chastised. “You don’t need an invitation. Come around any
time.”
There
was a whirlwind of introductions. Her aunt took position on her right, gushing
with affection and compliments, while Dominic remained on her left, muttering
snide comments that threatened to make her laugh.
A
timer dinged from the kitchen, a welcome reprieve as her aunt excused herself
and left Savannah to take a breath. There had to be twenty people crammed into
the small house. All of them smiling and friendly, unlike the man outside who
still lingered in her thoughts.
“You
want a drink?” Dominic nudged her elbow.
Hell yes. “Please.”
She followed him to the back of the house, into the laundry, and toward a
fridge stocked full of beer, wine, and pre-mixed drinks.
“Help
yourself.”
He
held the door open while she grabbed a small bottle of something red and no
doubt comatosingly sweet. “Thanks.”
“I’m
gonna hit the bathroom.” He closed the fridge door and looked at her in
concern. “Can you survive for a few minutes without me?”
“I
guess I’ll have to. I’m not going to follow you to the toilet.”
“Obviously,”
he drawled. “You gave up that opportunity when we were eight.”
“Twelve.”
“Ten.”
He chuckled and walked from the room, leaving her alone with the hovering
threat of chatter from the other end of the house.
It
was time to go incognito. She didn’t have the energy to smile at strangers.
Alcohol would help, but for now, she needed cool fresh air…and maybe another
glimpse at the menacing eyes of the man she’d met on the porch.
She
shoved the bottle into her coat pocket and sauntered down the hall, measuring
her steps to lessen the clap of her heels. She reached the front door without
notice and pulled it open, slipping into the darkness of twilight without a
word.
The
man was still at the end of the porch, a beer bottle now visible in his hand as
he leaned over, resting his elbows on the bannister. He didn’t acknowledge her
presence. She supposed a man with arrogance ebbing off him in waves didn’t have
to. His dismissal gave her the opportunity to appreciate his ass stretched in
well-worn jeans and the perfection of how his black jacket rested at his hips
to give her an unhindered view.
“Hi,”
she offered for a second time.
He
didn’t move, didn’t even spare her a glance as she approached the bannister. He
continued staring straight ahead as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips and
took a long pull.
“It’s
a lovely night for a family dinner.” Was he a distant relative? God, she hoped
not, otherwise Dominic’s inbred tendencies were rubbing off on her.
He
replied with a jut of his chin. A jut of his God. Damn. Chin.
What
an asshole. And wasn’t she just the stupidest set of ovaries to walk the earth,
because it only made her itch to push his blatant need for solitude, to poke at
him with questions until he acknowledged her with the respect she deserved. The
respect any human deserved.
“So…
you like beer…” she drawled, glib as hell.
The
corner of his mouth twitched as he continued to focus on the street. But still,
no answer.
She
could smell him, could practically taste his delicious aftershave on her tongue
with each inhalation. He was a taunt to all her senses…well, except her ears
because the pretentious ass wouldn’t say a word.
He
took another swig from his bottle and straightened to face her. She could see
his eyes now, the steely silver, almost blue, that made her shiver with their
ferocity. He was tall, too. At least an inch above her even with her heels.
She
pulled the pre-mix bottle from her jacket pocket and twisted the lid to keep
her hands busy. She could see two outcomes eventuating. Either he would smile,
knocking her off her feet with the brilliance of his appeal. Or he was going to
pull a gun from the inside of his jacket and blow her brains out.
Player
or gangster. He could totally pull off both.
“I’m
usually a wine drinker myself.” She raised the bottle of bubbly red liquid in
her hand, slowly tilting it to her mouth. She took a sip, licked the alcohol
from her lips in a deliberately seductive provocation, then lowered the bottle
again.
Still,
he gave her nothing. Noth-ing. He was the most accomplished jerk she’d ever come
across, and yet she still couldn’t ditch the intrigue and walk away. Without a
word, he had her tied around his little finger, begging for attention.
“I
like your jeans.” She ogled his crotch, wanting to return the discomfort of how
humiliating this one-sided conversation was becoming. “They’re snug.”
His
lips quirked, giving her a glimpse of straight white teeth. Asshole. Asshole.
Ass-hole! He was gorgeous, the faintest hint of humor turning his dangerous
eyes playful. She lifted the bottle to her mouth again, this time ignoring any
pretense of seduction as she gulped at the liquid.
“Are
you always this charm—”
The
front door creaked open and she turned to find Dominic eying them both
skeptically. “What’s going on?”
She
smiled, the biggest, fakest smile she had in her arsenal. “I’m having an
in-depth conversation with this lovely gentleman.”
“Really?”
Dominic frowned, his brows pulling deeper with every passing second.
“Yep.”
There was gushing amounts of sarcasm in her tone. “First we conversed about our
drinking habits, then fashion. I was about to bring up the topic of politics
and world peace when you rudely interrupted.”
She
glanced at the man in the corner, an arrogant smirk now curving those sensuous
lips. He wasn’t the only one capable of being a jerk.
“Well,
that’s strange…” Dominic came closer. “Because Keenan doesn’t talk.”
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About the Author
Eden Summers is a true blue Aussie,
living in regional New South Wales with her two energetic young boys and a
quick witted husband.
In late 2010, Eden’s romance obsession could no longer be sated by reading alone, so she decided to give voice to the sexy men and sassy women in her mind.
Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.
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