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368 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published July 8, 2014
Amanda meets Chase. He's so charming. He comes by every day for a week. He sits in this specific spot and orders this meal. He's so friendly. The staff love him. Amanda finally agrees to date him. He's really charming, but surely must have a fatal flaw somewhere.
They began dating and the game changed. She dropped the attitude and focused on his company. That following Monday and Tuesday, she tagged along with Chase on some of his routine. She went with him to the gym, and won what she secretly named "the eye-candy sweepstakes".
But even he could tell there was more passion building up when they were together.
"Guys like [Chase] don't just want dinner"
Amanda
"Aren't people like you supposed to own a car for every day of the week?"
Amanda
"Amanda, I wish you wouldn't use my being famous as a strike against me. I swear to God, I'm a regular guy."
Chase
"Chase," [Amanda] began steadily, but her voice cracked as soon as she said his name, "you seemed like you really knew what you were doing there."
"I do," he stated, very matter of fact, seemingly engrossed in [his paper], but with the corners of his mouth starting to turn up.
"Like you've done that sort of thing before."
"I have." He grinned, turning the page and scanning it.
"And that if we keep seeing each other, it's something you'll want to do again?"
"I will." He nodded, still grinning.
His two-word, nonchalant answers and perceived lack of interest was starting to completely unnerve her. She hadn't even come out directly to say what she was talking about and he was behaving like they had entered into a pact that only he was privy to.
"What if I don't want you to?"
Chase finally looked up from his paper, his eyes spearing her from across the granite island. "Then you better not be naughty."
"My ego does not require I have a girlfriend half my size to make me a bigger man. I am already a monster. I do not want or need a woman I can bench-press. I prefer a woman of substance, with softness and curves. One I know is able to handle my passion, one that can nurture my babies."
“Please listen carefully, Amanda, because I intend to explain this only once. You take my breath away, as much right now as the first time I saw you. And now I’m seeing all of you, so you can imagine how hard it is for me breathe [sic; yes, the editor forgot about infinitives]. I am almost six and a half feet tall. On a good day, I’m pushing two hundred and sixty pounds. My ego does not require I have a girlfriend half my size to make me a bigger man. I am already a monster. I do not want or need a woman I can bench-press. I prefer a woman of substance, with softness and curves. One I know is able to handle my passion, one that can nurture my babies. I have no desire to bang into your bones when I take you, which I am most certainly going to do, and soon.”

She ambled across the kitchen floor … and made herself a trough of coffee.
“We’re going to fill this place with Amanda-sized things.”
He wrestled between wanting her frozen in time and begging for there to be light so he wouldn’t miss the small detail.
“And the second I look at you, you cross your legs and wiggle in your chair ever so slightly, as if you’re enjoying the fabric against your skin. But you and I both know it’s not the touch and feel of cotton either one of us is thinking about.”
It was a peppermint stick, like you’d hang on a Christmas tree. At the top of it, where it curved to make the hook, were big blue Sailor Moon eyes and a full black mane that flowed to the middle of the stick part. The tip was made to look like a pert little nose and there were full, pouty lips to match. It actually sort of looked like her.
“You know, in all of her life, there was only one time when I spanked Amanda. Funny, I can’t even remember what it was for. But I will never forget the look on her face when it was over, those big sad eyes so bewildered. I could tell that she wasn’t able to reconcile the love with the pain. … I have seen the footage,” Rupert concluded diplomatically. “And it doesn’t look like she was having too much trouble with reconciliation.”
“Yes, Gertie, he is [hot]. But he’s also incredibly sweet. I don’t think since I met him, he’s ever said an unkind word to me.”
His smile had been replaced with a scowl. His eyes were dull. Not vacant—there was still plenty of fire—but there was no joy. All the boyish sparkle was gone. What was left was scary to see. … He ran the bases, his expression never changing, and jogged his way back to the dugout. Before ducking in, he stared right into a camera, the coldest, iciest stare Amanda didn’t believe him capable of, and her gasp was audible.
It was like he knew she was there.
“That’s the man you’ve been telling me about?” Gertie asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
“Yeah,” she replied, feeling the most awful twist in the pit of her stomach.
“Honey, I think it’s about time you start hightailing it back to where you came from. You don’t want that boy coming to find you.”
Damn her. He was spending night after sleepless night with haunted visions and she was soaking up the sun somewhere. She looked downright healthy. The little bitch.
And if she was smart she’d be scared, but she was finished with her head leading, and there was only one place her heart wanted to run.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, violently shaking her, stopped only when her eyes grew wide and frightened. “And do you know why [I joked about the video on television]? Do you? Because I stayed here and looked everyone in the eye as they judged. I took the phone calls, I made the statements, laughed at the jokes, I tried to protect the person I loved.”
Then, with remarkable ease, he punched a hole in the wall, the plaster crumbling in response to the unleashed fury. He looked at the destruction and lowered his head, his hands on his hips, and she could tell by his heaving, he was trying to hold back the rest of his rage.
She should have been terrified. She should have run. But every word he spoke was the truth, and though the reasons were different, they both were to blame.
“A minute ago, you were at least brave enough to have run away on your own accord. I need someone I can trust, not someone who would take orders from the most immoral character I can think of instead of her future husband.”
Chase didn’t notice the black sedan accelerating and coming toward him until Jack and his partner started taking affirmative action and rushing in front of him. The car’s brakes squealed, a sound made louder by the echo created in the garage, and the car fishtailed, then spun halfway around before stopping a few yards away from the trio. Even with the half-empty garage, it was still a tight maneuver.
The men stared in stunned silence as Amanda jumped out of the backseat and rushed up to them, her hand secure in the pocket of her beige trench coat. She reached out with her hand firmly ensconced within the coat, the outline of her pointer finger and thumb protruding from the top and side of the coat’s pocket as if brandishing a revolver.
“Stay back and no one gets hurt,” she ordered, jerking the hand in her pocket towards the running car. “He’s coming with me.”
Upon recognizing her, the two security guards marginally stood down. Still with their hands on their own holstered weapons, they looked briefly at each other and then at their boss, who was smiling broadly.
