Kastil Eavenshade has dropped by to share with us a little about her latest book. She can't give too much away, but what she does will have you wanting to read more. Have no fear, the links are included in this post. Enjoy!A little note from Kastil herself before we begin:
I can't recall the exact date I decided to start the Beowulf Hollow series. Three things were planned—different fairy tales for each, the story would take place in sequential decades starting with the 1960s, and the two characters in the first book (Witches & Lycans) would be in the other books in some way whether small or big. Other than that, anything goes. Heat rating, the pairings … whatever my muse lays in my lap I'll use to the fullest potential. I love writing and I can't wait to see where Beowulf Hollow ends up.
Some want to find love at all costs. Some
believe there is a cost to find love.
When Mary Becken’s mother passes away, she
takes over her exclusive tailoring business. Not satisfied with the fabrics
available, she unearths her mother’s loom and creates a new textile by weaving
thin strands of gold. Soon her small mountain town of Beowulf Hollow is
swarming with new customers and invitations come pouring in for New York Press
Week.
Benjamin Elstiltzkin is downright ruthless
when it comes to his fashion business, and no small town upstart is going to
dethrone him as king of the fashion world. When he hatches a plan to force Miss
Becken to work for him exclusively, the one thing he doesn't expect is the temptation
she poses to his never-ending bachelorhood.
With a deadline looming to gather his
collection, Benjamin might have met his match in more ways than one.
Excerpt
Benjamin
leaned against the elevator. His grimace pleased her. He obviously hated her
choice of clothing.
"All
the clothes I have for you and this is what you go with?" He flailed his
fingers up and down her body.
"You'll
excuse me if I don't believe fuck-me pumps like Ginger there is sporting are
practical for being on your feet most of the day."
He
got closer to her. "You could always be on your back instead."
"Uh,
personal space?" She jabbed a finger into his stomach. Rock hard abs
greeted her unpolished nail.
He
backed off. "Of course." The elevator opened. "After you."
She
rolled her eyes, a vain attempt not to fall for his arrogant charms. Mary hated
men who were so forward. She’d been visually undressed by every man she came
across in New York, and now here she was again with the same thing happening.
Did it matter that he didn't follow through on his innuendos? Or that he turned
her legs to jelly when she locked onto his intense gray eyes?
They
rode down in silence. She secretly snuck candid looks at him. His hand was in
his pocket, making the jacket he wore ride up enough to reveal his taut
buttocks. She feigned pushing her hair behind her ears when he glanced back.
Ginger was her buffer. Without the woman riding along…
"Damn
it," she muttered. Benjamin should infuriate her yet the hum between her
thighs craved his attention.
"A
problem, Miss Becken?" Benjamin turned to her outburst.
She
cleared her throat. "Nothing. I just remembered my favorite scissors are
probably back at the shop."
"I'm
sure Miss Govern grabbed everything, per my direction." He moved to the
front of the elevator. "Welcome to your new workroom."
The
shiny metal doors parted and Mary had to contain her enthusiasm. While she
loved her small workroom, Benjamin's was ten times bigger than her whole shop.
In the corner, looking drab against the white walls and tables, stood her
favorite dress form. Her unfinished blue dress still adorned it.
"Miss
Govern, large coffee and an egg salad sandwich on rye." He snapped his
fingers and shooed her with a flick of his wrist.
"And
Miss Becken?"
"I'm
not hungry, but some herbal tea would be great." She picked through her
fabrics, trying to ignore Benjamin.
"On
your way, Miss Govern."
Ginger
paused, pursing her lips, before she hurried out of the room back to the
elevator.
Mary
snorted, not surprised by his crass behavior toward his employee. Maybe Ginger
did mean to give him some competition. She walked past his highness and sat
down in the corner area where the bulk of her materials were placed. On the
table lay a hefty stack of papers. Her contract.
Leafing
through the pages, she stifled a laugh. "You can't be serious. Fifty
pages?" She pushed it away.
"Well,
we could come to some other agreement." He sat on the edge of the table,
clasping his hands together.
"Yeah.
You could design your own collection and I could do mine and may the best
person win." She crossed her arms.
"If
your fashion sense is anything like how you've dressed today, you haven't a
prayer without my guidance."
"Well,
they're your designs, so obviously you don't know how to make a cohesive
collection." She plucked at the top. "Tacky."
"Have
it your way." He dug in his jacket and pulled out a check, placing in
front of her. "For the materials you handmade for my use and enough for a
ticket home."
"I
didn't make this for you." She ripped up the check, throwing the confetti
in his face. "I made it for me."
"Did
I mention a sizeable sum has already gone into your bank account back in
Bumfuck Hollow?" He shoved the contract her way. "I suggest you sit
that pretty little ass of yours down and get reading. You do know how to read,
right?"
"Fuck
you, you arrogant bastard."
He
rounded on her and grabbed her by the waist. Her bottom hit the table and he
positioned himself between her legs. "Is that what you want?"
"Wh-what?"
She gasped as he bent her back, his body pressed against her. His hardness
nestled between her legs and his hot breath teased her earlobe.
"I
am willing to change the contract, Miss Becken, if you wish to be paid in
another way." He pushed her closer to his hard on. "You keep saying
those words and that has me wondering something. What if I was to clip the
buttons of this blouse off with my teeth one by one? Would you stop me or beg
for me to continue?"
Beg.
Definitely beg. "I—I—"
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