BUY A BOOK!
After moving to San Francisco to escape the aftermath of a violent attack, Sophie Schrader will learn from real estate tycoon William Peterson that she is safe, loved…and perfect.
Sophie Schrader came to San Francisco to start over. Fleeing a broken past, she never examined if she was living her passion—until now, when one shocking night in a downtown dance club introduces her to a man who is everything she never knew she wanted. Formidable, sexy, dominating…gentle. Yet no matter what he says, how can one damaged girl from Indiana ever be enough for a workaholic real estate tycoon?
…MAKE A WHOLE
For William Peterson, life’s greatest challenge was always which building to buy next. Now it’s Sophie. The sweet, polite Midwesterner is his perfect woman, but convincing her of that is almost impossible. Keeping her safe is a start, shielding her from both her past and his future, a job more difficult than any he’s attempted. Then William must show her they two can conquer any nightmare. Through the eyes of love, our scars make us who we are: imperfect and without flaw.
Sophie Schrader moves to San Francisco to be the head chef in the cafeteria of a large technology corporation, as well as escape memories of a violent attack, and she meets William Peterson, a billionaire workaholic, with a knack for real estate and control issues.
Sophie worries that she will lose herself following William’s complete control, but she deals with the ghosts of her past while trying to figure out what she wants for her future, and realizes that being a follower is okay, too, as long as she stands firm when she wants something. And she’s never wanted anything more than she wants William. William obsesses over Sophie’s safety, trying to control her whole life to ensure it. But he finally learns that he can’t control everything, and sometimes, losing control can feel really good, too. They are two imperfect people…who might just be perfect together.
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE:
I was easily the most uncomfortable human being on the planet. Most people mistook my sense of adventure for being a free-spirit. I was not. It’s true that I was an optimist and loved to travel, but I was more Mary Ann than Ginger. I was young and willing to take chances, but I hated crowds, loud noises, and public displays of affection.
At that moment, I was in my own personal hell: surrounded by hundreds of people, dry-humping to a bass beat that reverberated in my chest. Embarrassment became mortification when a man’s hand disappeared under the skirt of the woman gyrating against him. My cheeks burned, sweat trickled down my back, and my feet were killing me. I wanted to leave. Desperately. And I promised myself I would, as soon as I wished Tanner and Jason a happy anniversary.
The cute couple was dirty dancing in the middle of a crowd of friends. I moved toward them, swaying around drunken couples and avoiding errant groping hands, until I was in front of Tanner. I threw my arms around his neck and practically screamed into his ear so he’d hear me over the music, “I love you and I love Jason, but I’m going home now.”
Tanner hugged my waist, pulling me towards him. “Thank you, Sophie. We love you, too.”
He released me with a kiss on the cheek. I turned, more than ready to make good use of the closest exit, but a behemoth of a man blocked my escape. His hands gripped my hips, forcing me to sway to the electronic house music. Sway? Well, at least he wasn’t grinding on me.
My hands flew up to his shoulders and I attempted to push him away. I plastered on my fake smile and looked up to a ruggedly gorgeous face. Not pretty. Not traditionally handsome. But powerfully masculine, with long, thick lashes that lined expressive, brilliant green eyes.
I pushed harder against his shoulders to give myself a few inches of space. “Hi, handsome. I was just leaving, but thanks for the dance.” I tried again to disengage myself, but he wouldn’t let go.
“One dance. That’s all I want.” His deep voice rumbled straight through to my core and his grip tightened. I found myself pressed against his chest and not all that upset at the situation. He was the first man to make my heart race in a good way in a long time. Still, the pain in my feet reminded me why I’d been leaving.
“Hey,” I relaxed against him, the only movement his iron grip allowed. I tilted my head up, hoping he could hear me, and tried not to whine like a baby, “I appreciate the dance, really, but my feet are killing me and I hate it here and I just want to go home.”
He stopped swaying. His green eyes studied my face for a moment before he bent down and scooped me up. Holy hell! He carried me off the dance floor like a small child.
I didn’t even fight him. The relief that my feet were no longer being tortured overshadowed my fear. I put my arms around his shoulders as he made his way through the crowd. When he set me down, I slid out of my shoes.
“Ah,” I gave an appreciative sigh, “Thanks for that.” I leaned down, hooking my first two fingers into my shoes, and tilted my head back, way back, to find his eyes. Without my heels, he was a giant.
“Let me walk you to your car.” His voice resonated through my body again, melting me a little.
“Oh, that’s okay.” I looked back into the crowd, now pulsing and moving like a single-celled organism; it was almost mesmerizing. There was no way I could find Tanner in there now, and this man — this huge, strapping man — was crowding my space.
His arm slid around my shoulder and his lips dropped to my ear. “Babe, did you drive here?”
I closed my eyes and lowered my head. “Um, yeah. I’m good. Thanks.”
His fingers lifted my chin so he could see my eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”
Okay, so the big man could read me. “Well, I figured I’d just get a cab. I came with some friends, but I’m ready to leave and they’re not. It’s no big deal,” I said with a shrug.
He guided me toward the exit. “I can drive you home.”
I dug my heels in. “No. Thanks.” I was not letting some random guy drive me home. No way.
He scowled and rolled his eyes at me. Releasing me, he asked with a tilt of his head, “What’s your name?”
I lifted my eyebrows and took a step back. “Okay, so, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for, ya know, carrying me off the dance floor.”
He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. His touch was light, but the message, clear. His voice was softer the second time. “What’s your name?”
“Sophie.” He looked at me expectantly, so I elaborated, “Schrader.”
“That’s pretty.” He smiled and his emerald eyes sparkled.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t something stupid like Brock or Stone.
“Well, thank you for escorting me off the dance floor, William Peterson,” I said, extending my hand.
His eyes narrowed but he shook my hand. “I’ll get a cab.” He shrugged off my apprehension. “I’m not leaving you. It’s not safe to get a cab alone.”
My cheeks burned. Again. “It’s not like I’m taking the bus.”
He rolled his eyes. Again.
I bit my cheek to keep from laughing when I realized that he was serious. In addition to amazing green eyes, towering height, and shoulders that were probably a yard wide; he was sweet, even if it was in an overly protective, slightly creepy way. He made me feel petite, delicate even. His dark hair was a little unruly, nearly covering a small scar bisecting his right eyebrow. His prominent brow gave him an intimidating air, but I wasn’t intimidated by him. He raised his hand to ruffle his hair and I was fascinated by the dark hair that covered his arm. He was a man. Completely, and thoroughly, male. It was a little heady to be near him.
He tilted his head and leaned in. “Let me drive you home. Please.”