One week until the September 17th release of Behind the Green Curtain. If you missed the synopsis on my Writing page, here it is -
Behind the Green Curtain
When Caton’s sleazy boss offers her a position as his wife’s personal assistant, she accepts the job with reservations, certain Jack Halston has ulterior motives.
After meeting Jack’s wife Amelia, though, it’s Caton’s motivations that begin to unravel. As vicious as she is beautiful, Amelia threatens Caton’s position and her sense of decorum.
As the attraction between the two women spirals into a torrid affair, Caton is drawn deeper into Jack and Amelia’s world of privilege and prestige, where everything is at stake and nothing is what it seems.
And here’s an official excerpt (you know, “official” because I’m an authority on myself)
Stepping off the bottom stair in the foyer, the insults she didn’t get the chance to lob bounded so wildly in her head, Caton didn’t hear Amelia behind her until a vice tightened on her arm and she was yanked around like a rag doll. Amelia’s fingers on her almost violent, Caton could feel her heart pound against them.
“You think that’s all that I am,” Amelia harshly whispered, mask further slipping. “But you do not know me.”
In the thick of it, Caton didn’t have time to contemplate the fact that Amelia had followed her for the sole purpose of continuing to fight.
“I know how you treat people,” she returned, though it wasn’t true. If anything, it was selfish. She knew only how Amelia treated her, and she was tired of being made to feel like a commodity that could be put to use and then disregarded. “I know it has no effect on you. Nothing has any effect on you.”
“That is not true,” Amelia countered, blistering gaze forcing Caton to avert her eyes. “Just because I am not screaming at the top of my lungs or bursting into tears every five seconds doesn’t mean I don’t feel. I don’t… I am not…” She couldn’t seem to find the words, or to admit them.
“What?” Caton returned her gaze to Amelia’s. “Frigid? Dead inside?” The descriptions proved themselves on target when Amelia flinched in response. “Please. I have never met anyone so completely devoid of emotion,” she continued, not sure why it mattered so much. “You could hit a kid and drive over the body. I could walk around here naked and you wouldn’t even be embarrassed. You would probably just ask why I didn’t have a banker box in my hands.”
Her shock at the scenario silenced Amelia for only an instant. “Let’s see,” she uttered. “Take your clothes off.”
With a heartfelt scoff, Caton turned to leave, tired of the game and Amelia’s quiet malice, which always felt on the verge of becoming a real knife in her back. When Amelia’s touch softened, though, simultaneously pulling her back, Caton crashed against her, feeling the give of the fabric between them, instantly aware that Amelia’s body at least had contour, despite the sharp planes and lines of her perfectly-pressed apparel.
“Take your clothes off,” Amelia said again, the request little more than a breath against Caton’s cheek. Half-plea, half-demand, Caton couldn’t tell which part was more sincere.
Words shivering through her, she knew she could – that she should – leave, but, meeting Amelia’s eyes, she also knew she wouldn’t.