Spotlight & Giveaway: One Cursed Rose by Rebecca Zanetti

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Rebecca Zanetti’s new release: One Cursed Rose

New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti explores the forbidden and the taboo in this modern twist on Beauty and the Beast – the first in a seductive new dark romance series set in a world where information is power, and those who control the flow of information live like gods…

Alana. While my name means beauty, beneath that surface is a depth I allow very few to see. I’m sole heir to Aquarius Social, a media giant about to succumb to an unseen enemy. My father’s solution is to marry me off to the son of a competing family. My reaction? Not a chance. Now I have just a week before the wedding to change my fate.

Who knew the unforeseen twist would be an assassination attempt on me and an unwanted rescue by Thorn Beathach, the head of the rival social media empire driving Aquarius under? The richest, most ruthless of them all, the Beast protects his realm with an iron rule: no one sees his face. When he shows himself to me, I know he’ll never let me go.

Thorn may think he can lock me in his enchanted castle forever, but I’m not the docile Beauty he expects. If the Beast wants to tie me up, I’m going to take pleasure from every minute of it . . .and we’ll just see who ends up shackled.

“Sexy and utterly engrossing!” —J.T. Geissinger, bestselling author of The Queens and Monsters series

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from One Cursed Rose 

“Look at me, princess.”

I feverishly push against him, trying to retake my seat. His abs are rock hard and ripple beneath the T-shirt. His arm doesn’t tighten but I’m held immobile. The arm is solid steel. Where is that knife of his? I almost whimper, reliving the murder of the waiter. So I turn, my breath catching at the raw heat in Thorn’s eyes. Instinctively, I know that begging won’t work with a monster like him. “Let me go.”

“No.” His gaze drops to my lips, and they swell. Or at least, they feel like they swell. None of this makes sense. He continues in that raw and now dominant tone. “I hadn’t planned on establishing your rules until we arrive, but apparently I need to do so now.”

Rules? My head jerks and my legs shake. “Rules? Before you kill me?” He licks his bottom lip and lets out a soft hum. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Oh, God. My insides feel hollow, but I can’t ask the question— the one careening through my head. What are his plans? Instead, I focus on anything else. “Where are we going?” I ask, my butt feeling soft against his legs.

“My place.”

“You’re going to kill me at your house?” I lean in, studying his eyes. Clear pupils, no sign of being on drugs. Then I lose it,

so much fear in my head all I can do is babble. “You know

that’s a mistake, right?”

One of his dark eyebrows rises. “Do tell.”

My brain finally just explodes and my mouth takes over for my mind. “You know, DNA evidence—blood, saliva, tears, and all of that. If you’re going to murder somebody, you want to do it far away from your house. Also, leave the murder weapon.” Though, looking at him, I know he is the murder weapon.

He cocks his head and a glint of what I hope is humor flashes briefly in his eyes.

I take that as encouragement, my ears ringing. “Now that you know those facts, you should plan better. How about you let me off here, and I’ll meet you near the Golden Gate Bridge next Saturday night? That way, there’s nothing to connect us.” I know it’s stupid to hope he’s that crazy, but it’s all I have going for me right now.

“You promise you’ll be there?” he asks.

I brighten, a sliver of hope cutting through my fear. “Absolutely.”

His free hand settles across my throat, his long fingers wrapping all the way around to my nape. His massive paw is heavy and heated, and there is no doubt he can snap my neck in a second if he chooses.

I jolt, swallowing and then finding relief that I can swallow. But my breathing turns rapid and shallow, and I can’t draw in enough oxygen to relieve my lungs.

He leans in and slightly squeezes, and my palms start to sweat, even through the chills attacking me. “That makes two rules of mine you’ve broken within ten minutes, Alana Beaumont. You break another one before we get home, and I’m going to flip you over and spank that perfect ass until you’re screaming and the taste of honey is the only thing in my head.”

The threat, from another man, would infuriate me. But this one? His hard and possessive tone paralyzes me. More tears fill my eyes. I can’t move. He won’t let me. “What do you want from me?”

“At the moment? Obedience.” He glances at his buzzing phone.

“Bummer,” I blather.

His gaze returns to me. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a gene that creates a tendency to obey,” I say, my head spinning. He’s holding me too tightly for me to grasp the door handle again; I need to loosen his grip. “Researchers have

identified it on the Y chromosome, which I do not have.” I try to push away from him . . . but don’t move an inch. His strength petrifies me. “But the good news is that learning to live with disappointment builds character. So with more disappointments like this, you should be a decent guy in about a millennium. I’m grateful to have started you on this journey.”

His stare deepens and I want to blink but can’t look away. “You have a sense of humor. I had not expected that.”

I tremble. Somehow, I tear my gaze from his, looking down at his broad chest. “You have enough going on, Thorn. You don’t want to start a war with my father.” Is there a way to reasonwith him before he kills me? Or worse?

“I’m already in a war. Having another adversary doesn’t change the chess board much,” he counters.

I gulp. “Um, I don’t understand the honey reference. How would, um, well, spanking me fill you with honey?” My butt clenches as I say the words and for a second it’s a relief to concentrate on anything but that knife he must still have close. Perhaps if I understand his insanity, I can work with it.

“I have a form of Lexical-Gustatory Synesthesia,” he murmurs.

What in the world? I’ve read about synesthesia but have never met anyone who has it.

He clears his throat. “It’s a rare form of synesthesia where people’s voices trigger certain tastes in my mouth. You’re all honey, baby.” He describes the condition as if I’m not smart or educated enough to know what it is. Oh, I get it. He thinks he knows me.

I look up. “You follow me on Aquarius Social.”

He nods.

“And in real life.” I know I’ve seen his eyes in the darkness before.

“Yes. You’re an obsession.”

Adrenaline shoots through my veins. “That’s awfully honest.” In fact, telling me about the synesthesia shows a level of trust that doesn’t make sense.

“One of my rules,” he says quietly. “Number one, actually. There will be no lies between us. Ever.”

Between us? Just how long does he plan to keep me? So I violated his rule when I said I’d meet him at the bridge to die.

“What other rule did I break?” I have to believe there will be a chance to escape if he lets me live long enough to do so.

He loosens his hold on my neck and swipes a callused thumb along my jawline. “We’re traveling at a hundred miles an hour, and you tried to jump out of the vehicle. Rule number two is to out of danger. Period.”

“You’re all danger,” I say without thinking.

His grin is quick and so fleeting I’d wonder if I saw it if my chest didn’t heat quickly. “Smart girl.”

Obviously he doesn’t think that, which is good for me. Be – ing underestimated can only help. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

I narrow my gaze, trying to read him, but it’s like staring at a wall of slate. “I’m going to fight you.”

“Good.”

My vision tunnels in, darkening the interior of the shadowfilled vehicle. Then I waver, my head turning heavy. Shouldn’t terror shoot adrenaline through my system? Why is my body shutting down? Is it a defense mechanism? “Why are you taking me?”

“I want you.”

Simple words. Terrifying ones. I need to get my hands on that knife. “That’s too bad.”

“Is it?” He leans in, his lips brushing my neck.

My body performs a tremble head to toe. Confusion blankets me.

His hand rests on my bare thigh and heat flashes up to my core. “I’m thinking you like danger.” His hot breath singes my throat, and my nipples harden against my flimsy tanktop. His chuckle, right against my skin, rumbles through my body. “Want me to prove it to you?” That heated palm slides up my leg, his fingers curling around my thigh.

“No,” I squeak, partly because the driver is right there, and partly because I’m not sure what Thorn will find. My body is rioting.

He inhales deeply, his voice a dark whisper in my ear. “You’re wet. We both know it.” But his fingers don’t move.

I look down at his bruised and cut knuckles. He didn’t get those in the brief scuffle with the waiter. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fought on the streets earlier.”

Thorn Beathach fights on the streets? An odd hobby for a billionaire. “How many people have you killed tonight?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Tonight? Just five.”

Oh. God.

Then his damaged hand slides up, and one finger flicks across my clit. Shock spirals through me along with electricity. A dark need. Heat bursts into the apples of my cheeks, and I duck my head, hating my body as much as him.

His chuckle moves his muscled abs against my flank.

I clench my bare thighs together and barely bite back a moan.

“I would like to get off your lap now,” I say primly. How is this possibly intriguing? What’s wrong with me?

Thorn studies me. “Pity.” Then he releases his hold, lifts me, and settles me safely back in my seat.

Shock catches me for a minute. Is he trying to keep me off balance? My eyelids become heavy. Shockingly so. Coldness sweeps along me and I miss his heat as I yank my flimsy skirt down as far as possible, which isn’t very damn far. There’s only one reason he’s kidnapped me. He doesn’t need money, and he’s already at war. “My family will come after you with everything we have.”

His eyes actually burn through the darkness. “Let them come, as I love a good fight.” He lowers his chin. “Besides. Your family has absolutely no idea where you are. Nobody does.”

Excerpt. ©Rebecca Zanetti. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.
 
 

Giveaway: Two print ARCs of One Cursed Rose by Rebecca Zanetti

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Meet the Author:

New York Times, USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has published more than seventy novels, which have been translated into several languages, with millions of copies sold world-wide. Her books have received Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus starred reviews and have been featured in Entertainment Weekly, Woman’s World, and Women’s Day Magazines. Her novels have also been included in Amazon best books of the year and have been favorably reviewed in both the Washington Post and the New York Times Book Reviews. Rebecca has ridden in a locked Chevy trunk, has asked the unfortunate delivery guy to release her from a set of handcuffs, and has discovered the best silver mine shafts in which to bury a body…all in the name of research. Honest. Find Rebecca at: www.RebeccaZanetti.com

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