Saturday, 5 March 2011

Sarah Morgan - Bought : Destitute Yet Defiant (2010)

He's scarred, sexy and unashamedly Sicilian.

Silvio Brianza dragged himself out of the slums, but his scars run deep..

She's defiant, desirable and utterly disobedient!

Jessie still scrapes her living, scrubbing floors by day and singing in seedy bars by night.. Silvio had turned his back on that world, but now that he's found Jessie he's going to make her his!

Jessie may be powerless to resist Silvio's raw sexuality but no amount of dresses and diamonds can change their history. He's her enemy, he's shunned his past - he'll never love the street girl she is.
Read Excerpt :
They’d come to kill her.
Two years of working on the seedier side of the city had honed her senses and taught her to keep herself sharp. She watched and she noticed—and she’d noticed them. A small group of men drinking too much, although she knew that would please Joe, who always hiked his prices when the punters were too drunk to notice. From her vantage point on the stage, she’d seen the notes changing hands, the bottles of whisky, the empty glasses and the glazed eyes but she’d just kept on singing, her voice pouring honey and whipped cream over anyone who bothered to listen. Ignoring the sick feeling in her gut that warned her that her time had finally run out, she sang about love and loss, knowing that the lonely men who frequented Joe’s Bar knew far more about the second than the first.
And so did she.
It was an existence far from anyone’s dreams but Jessie had stopped dreaming when she had been five years old.
‘Hey, doll!’ A man seated near the stage leered at her and waved a note. ‘I fancy a private performance. Come over here and sing that song on my lap.’
Without missing a beat, Jessica backed away from him, flung her head back and belted out the final verse of the song with her eyes closed. As long as she had her eyes shut tight she could pretend that she was somewhere else. She wasn’t singing to a crowd of leering men who had given up on life, she was singing to a packed stadium or opera house—to people who had paid the equivalent of a month’s rent just to hear her voice. In that same fantasy she didn’t have gnawing hunger pains in her stomach and she hadn’t mended her cheap gold dress a hundred times. But most of all, she wasn’t alone.

Someone out there was waiting for her.
Someone was going to pick her up from work and take her home somewhere warm, cosy and safe.
The song ended. She opened her eyes. And saw that someone was waiting for her.
Several men, but they weren’t from her dreams—they were from a dark, terrifying nightmare.
And she knew that they’d come for her. Fear had shadowed her every step for so long that she felt worn out with anxiety—tired of looking over her shoulder.
The last warning she’d received had been a physical one, leaving her with bruises that had kept her home for a week.
But this time they weren’t here to deliver a warning.
Feeling her mouth dry and her heart pound, Jessie reminded herself that she had a plan.
And a knife tucked in her suspender belt.



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