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Title: Invisible Masterpiece
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Invisible Masterpiece:
My name is Sage Cross.
I’ve got it all—the man, the money, the mastered dream.
I wasn’t supposed to fall for him. Jacob Storm—Manhattan’s well-known womanizer. It was worth it, though.
The world came at us. Against us.
But I’ve worked too hard to lose it all. To get to where I always wanted to be.
Would our love unite us? Or would our empire crumble to the ground—two broken people who know nothing about love succumbing to its perfect poison—darkness.
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I opened the door after hearing a knock and Jacob came in with a firm, angry look. His jaw was as tight as my little black dress, switchblades shooting from his light blue eyes.
Blue baby – My baby was blue tonight.
He kissed my cheek then skimmed his thumb over it as his gaze raked over my entire body from my head down to my toes. I put on my stilettos, holding onto him while I did so.
“Did you see?” Three little words. Spat with a high dose of venom.
“I heard. Lincoln called,” I told him honestly, hearing his jaw crack. He looked annoyed, so very annoyed, and yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off my dress.
My legs. My tits. My lips.
Clearly, he didn’t know what he wanted tonight. Fuck me? Spank me? I took out my long, black, wool coat from the closet and wrapped it around my body.
“You’re not helping,” I told him.
“I’m not helping what?”
I sighed. “I’m meeting some of your friends¾”
“Still. The news can wait. Ellie and Derrick invited us, and I want to have a good time with them.”
He grunted, hands in his pocket. “That’s because you haven’t seen what they say about you.” His look was murderous¾ready to put his hands around someone’s throat and squeeze tight. He wasn’t mad at me. He was angered for me.
And I loved him for it. But I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to take in this moment where he looked like the most fine-looking man on the face of this earth in his expensive black slacks, with a dark grey wool coat and scarf placed around his neck.
I pulled him against me, fingering his coat. “What do they say, hmm?” I checked him out, then my eyes searched his. “That I’m a whore¾a bitch?” I traced his lip with my fingers. His jaw flexed underneath my touch before his eyes darted away. I stroked a nerve it seemed. “Who cares?” I whispered, scanning his jaw, brazing it with one fingertip. “Let them say I’m a whore¾nobody in this room fuckin’ cares.”
A quiet, vibrating chuckle escaped him. But it wasn’t a happy, laughy laugh-laugh.
He was pissed. Off.
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About the Author:
M . H . B . graduated law from a Canadian University. She loves spending time with her partner and her dog. She has a passion for animals and loves the simple things in life: chocolate, music, books, sunny days, and overall wellness. When she is not writing, her mind is in another world with a book in hand.
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