I wasn’t any where near ready for this. Not even close.
I am just absolutely stunned and still vibrating from this amazing read. Sierra Simone has written a book that is moving, sensual, so damned sexy. I cannot believe how amazing this story is. This is one hot steamy tale that you don’t want to put down until the very last page – and even then? You want more. Much, much more.
Yes, this is a political story. This is Washington seen through the eyes of someone who suffered through the backstabbing, the dirty deals and insider sessions. Greer decided that she was done with that life. But one visit from Vice President Embry Moore would change her life forever. One visit that would be the catalyst of one the most intense, possessive and incredible love triangles that I have ever read. It didn’t matter the age difference between Greer and her President or that while she longed for him after their first meeting, he would find love with another. It didn’t matter that while she loved her President, she also loved his second in command and that she gave herself to him.
What mattered was that no matter how they all tried to deny it, Greer, Ash and Embry are made for each other. Their unconventional, and in some eyes, sinful relationship could cause a scandal and bring down a Presidency. They have all been warned. They know their actions can have consequences. That doesn’t matter. These three together are fire and passion. Theirs is an all consuming, uncompromising love with the President clearly at the head of the relationship. The King with his Queen and Prince entralled and adoring. It was awe inspiring to watch these characters grow and their story progress, evolve and grab me so by the throat that I was left speechless as I turned the last page.
Again, I am still so stunned. American Prince cannot get here fast enough. Sierra, you are simply amazing. This story clearly showcases your ever growing talent and that you love and know your classics very well. Highly recommend this book! VERY HIGHLY!
My name is Greer Galloway, and I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States.
This is the story of an American Queen.
The best man’s hand brushes up against my stocking-covered ankle and I gasp.
“What is it, princess?” Ash’s low voice comes over the phone line.
“Embry…I mean, Ash, I—” I can’t find the words just then, because Embry’s hand slides up my calf and everything stops. My thoughts, my feelings, my guilt—my world shrinks to Ash’s voice on the phone and the fingers moving past my knee and Embry’s face, so controlled. But lust and anger and determination are fissuring across that control, and I can see his wide pupils and the pulse pounding in his neck and the trembling of his lips.
What is happening? I think distantly to myself. What am I letting happen…and all while I’m on the phone with my soon-to-be husband?
And then the world slams back into motion, and I make a strangled noise, stumbling backwards, away from Embry. He starts to stand and come toward me, and I hold out one of my hands, moving backwards until my back is pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the skyline.
Embry looks down at my shaking hand and then back up to me, those fissures in his control now full-on fractures, and he says, “Greer…”
“Don’t test me,” I whisper, not sure if I’m whispering to the groom or the best man. “Don’t test me like this.”
This isn’t happening. I missed a connection somewhere, misunderstood something vital, because there is no way, no fucking way, that Ash is offering his best friend to me as some sort of wedding present. This is my wishful thinking turned toxic, this is my darkest fantasies turning into delusion—
“I want you to let Embry give you my gift,” Ash tells me. “While I listen. That’s what you’ll give me in exchange: every single moan, pant and cry will be for me.”
“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying,” I say.
“Oh, don’t worry, angel. I’ll get something out of this for me too.”
I hear the dark roughness in his voice and I realize I’m so very, very wet.
“Close your eyes,” Ash orders.
I do, my panting somehow louder in my head when I can’t see anything. The glass window against my back is cool and strong, just like Ash’s words in my ear.
“I know you’re wet. I know it like I know Embry is hard right now, just from the mere thought of touching you. You want it, don’t you? You want it so much that you’re shaking with the effort it’s taking to hold yourself back.”
“But I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s my final plea, my final argument, my final grasp at some semblance of sanity. My skirts are almost up at my waist now, and I know the moment Embry catches sight of my delicate, hand-embroidered French panties because he takes in a sharp breath, as if punched in the gut.
“It all hurts,” Ash says. “It hurts watching you two watching each other. It hurts watching him with other people. There’s no part about this that doesn’t hurt, but what’s the alternative? Living without the pain means living without each other.”
Sierra Simone is a USA Today Bestselling former librarian (who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk.) She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.
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