By Her Touch, the Publishers Weekly STARRED second book in the Blank Canvas Series is out tomorrow! Until then, here's a sneak peek of Clay and George's story!
Excerpt:
❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎
The
man who stood in her reception area didn’t look like he needed help. But then
he removed the glasses, baring eyelids marred by ink, and George squinted over
the desk at him. Taking off those lenses transformed him from a hard wall of
masculinity into something more appealing, if just as intimidating.
“The
eyelid tattoos?” she asked, moving around the desk.
“Yeah.
Others too.”
Up
close, she felt the difference in their sizes more keenly. He was huge. “Lean
down, please. Let me get a look.” Lord, what had the man done to himself?
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
The word emerged on a half laugh, as if she’d surprised it out of him.
“You
haven’t had this long, have you?”
He
shook his head, and George’s brain filled with questions—some appropriate, some
not. She went with the former.
“How
long?”
“Few
months.”
“Any
idea what was used?”
“Used?”
“What
kind of ink?”
“No.”
He cleared his throat before going on. “Tattoo ink, I guess.”
“They
protect your eyes while they did this?” she asked, and he snorted in response.
“Not
exactly.”
“Did
you consent to having your eyelids tattooed?” she asked, knowing this wasn’t
the sort of question you asked a man this big, this badass.
His
eyes shot open, and George fought not to step back.
Oh
dear God, his face.
“Have
we met before?” she asked, wondering where she’d seen those eyes; the high,
flat cheekbones; the perfectly shaped mouth outlined by dark stubble that made
her fingers itch disconcertingly.
“Don’t
think so, Doc. I’d remember if we had.”
George
blushed at what she thought might be a compliment even as she continued to
study him.
Those
wide cheekbones, a sharp nose, and an obstinate-looking jaw made her think this
wasn’t a man who’d easily ask for help. Layered over his striking features were
the ravages of life: those lids marred by black ink, a scar bisecting a cheek
and disappearing into short, dark hair.
But
most intimidating—and appealing—of all, were the darkest eyes she’d ever seen,
perfectly in keeping with those dark looks. They were wide and hard.
Just
like the rest of him, she thought, with a hiccup of something sharp and hot and
previously dormant in her abdomen.
“You
have others?” she asked, ignoring the unwanted twinge with a quick step back.
She
wouldn’t allow herself even a glance as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged
out of it. She saw
the
ink on his arms only peripherally, barely looked at how it contrasted so
dramatically with the bright-white cotton of his T-shirt.
He
reached to take that off too, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm, immediately
removed.
His
golden skin was covered in tattoos, starting at his hands and crawling over
solid shoulders to seep
through
his tee, dark enough to look like a design on the surface of the white cotton.
He was wide, his arms long and strong-looking.
She
didn’t say anything for a time, caught up in ink and muscles and the
crisp-looking hair of his forearms.
He
finally broke the silence. “You get it now?”
“I’m
sorry?”
He
fisted his hands, knuckles up. “Kinda urgent. Ma’am.”
Ma’am.
She hadn’t been called that in ages. It made her feel like she’d been bad,
chastened—the way
she’d
felt the one and only time she’d gotten pulled over for speeding.
“I
see.”
“Can
we get started today? I’m on a bit of a deadline.”
She
considered it, her feelings divided. On the one hand, she had the perfectly
normal urge to make
him
better, to help. But on the other hand was this overwhelming whoosh of something…uncomfortable, disconcerting.
Attraction?
Was that it? It had been so long since George had felt anything even remotely
physical toward a man that she wouldn’t recognize it if it came in and bopped her
on the head. Or punched her in the gut, more likely. She shouldn’t bring this
man into the back with her. Shouldn’t be able to picture him splayed across an
examination table, shouldn’t feel the need to get a closer look, inviting
intimacies with just the two of them here—all alone in the clinic with this
beast of a man.
Not
only that, but once most patients found out how much it cost to get their ink
removed, as opposed to put on, they got angry.
Would
this man get angry? She narrowed her eyes at him, trying hard to picture that.
“I
don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr.—”
“Blane.
Andrew Blane.”
“Mr.
Blane, I’m alone here as you can see and—”
“Look,
Ms.…”
“Doctor.
It’s Dr. Hadley.”
“Right.
Doctor. I’ll pay you. I’ll pay whatever it takes. I’ve just got to get these
taken off. The sooner
the
better.”
“I
understand it’s urgent, Mr. Blane, but tattoo removal is a long process. It’s
never instantaneous. And, even so, I can’t guarantee that you’ll—”
“Please.
Please, Doctor.” The words, even in that low, coffee-rich voice, reeked of
desperation.
And
George Hadley was a sucker for desperation.
Series: Blank Canvas
Author: Adriana Anders
Author: Adriana Anders
Pub Date: April 4, 2017
HE WILL ALWAYS BEAR THE SCARS
Undercover cop Clay Navarro left the Sultans biker gang a changed man. Its ringleaders may be awaiting trial, but he wears the memory of every brutal act he was forced to commit tattooed across his skin. He doesn't have space in his messed-up life for anything gentle—not now, maybe not ever.
Dr. Georgette Hadley is drawn to the damaged stranger's pain, intimidated but intrigued by the warmth that lies beneath Clay's frightening exterior. But when the Sultans return looking for revenge, she finds herself drawn into the dirty underbelly of a life forged in violence...that not even her touch may be able to heal.
Dr. Georgette Hadley is drawn to the damaged stranger's pain, intimidated but intrigued by the warmth that lies beneath Clay's frightening exterior. But when the Sultans return looking for revenge, she finds herself drawn into the dirty underbelly of a life forged in violence...that not even her touch may be able to heal.
ADRIANA ANDERS has acted and sung, slung cocktails and corrected copy. She’s worked for start-ups, multinationals and small nonprofits, but it wasn’t until she returned to her first love—writing romance—that she finally felt like she’d come home. Today, she resides with her tall French husband, two small children and fat French cat in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where she writes the dark, gritty, emotional love stories of her heart.
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