The
Wedding Vow
Save the
Date # 2: A Billionaire’s Demand
By: Cara Connelly
Releasing September 30th, 2014
Avon
Cara
Connelly's second Save the Date novel proves that opposites do attract...
The Playboy
Sexy billionaire Adam LeCroix has a mission: hunt down the sultry spitfire he blames for his troubles, demand her help, and exact revenge while he's at it. Maddie St. Clair will help him . . . or else.
The Prosecutor
Former prosecutor Maddie damn near nailed Adam for stealing, but the lucky bastard walked. Now, five years later, he's back, arrogant as ever, giving her an ultimatum—work for him to collect the insurance money, or she'll never work again.
The Problem
Maddie's all about right and wrong. Adam's shades of gray. So when he uncovers the hot body under her hard-ass veneer and she finds he's a thief with a heart, can the law-and-order lawyer and the fast-and-loose felon put their prickly past behind them?
The Playboy
Sexy billionaire Adam LeCroix has a mission: hunt down the sultry spitfire he blames for his troubles, demand her help, and exact revenge while he's at it. Maddie St. Clair will help him . . . or else.
The Prosecutor
Former prosecutor Maddie damn near nailed Adam for stealing, but the lucky bastard walked. Now, five years later, he's back, arrogant as ever, giving her an ultimatum—work for him to collect the insurance money, or she'll never work again.
The Problem
Maddie's all about right and wrong. Adam's shades of gray. So when he uncovers the hot body under her hard-ass veneer and she finds he's a thief with a heart, can the law-and-order lawyer and the fast-and-loose felon put their prickly past behind them?
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Swinging around to tell him
what she thought of that, she saw movement under the Honda and leapt onto the
sidewalk, expecting a rat to dart out. But nothing appeared.
Then she heard a faint whine and squatted for a look.
“Oh no!” A dog – more dead than alive – blinked at her once and then closed its
brown eyes.
Dropping to her knees, she stuck her shoulders under the bumper.
“What the hell—” Adam knelt beside her. Then, “Oh Christ.” He caught her arm as
she reached for the dog. “He’s hurt. He could bite.”
She shook off his hand, but he was right. She worked with rescue dogs, had seen
even the gentlest soul lash out when wounded. And this fella was in bad shape.
He’d crawled under the Honda to die.
Wriggling out, she sat back on her haunches and turned her outrage at the
situation squarely on Adam, who was getting to his feet. “We’re not leaving
him!”
“Of course not,” he said curtly. Stripping off his suit coat, he dropped it on
the Honda, popped out his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. To Fredo, “Get
the jack.” To Maddie, “Where’s the nearest vet?”
“Around the corner.” Her friend Parker’s place, where she helped out at the
shelter he operated next door to his office.
In no time, Fredo jacked up the Honda. Looking under, Maddie’s heart convulsed
at the cruelty.
A short-haired yellow dog that should’ve been sixty pounds but was probably
forty lay on his side in an oily puddle, ribs jutting, fur patchy, and a raw,
open wound circling his neck where his collar used to be.
Adam crouched beside her. “Hello, boy,” he said in a tone that soothed even
Maddie's raw nerves. “You look like you’ve missed a few meals. Let’s see what
we can do about that.”
The ropey tail twitched once, the brown eyes opened. Then closed again.
Adam reached for his suit jacket, shimmied under the car and wrapped it around
the bony body, then shimmied out again with the dog, its head lolling over his
arm.
“Take a right at the corner,” Maddie told Fredo as he dropped the Honda. “It’s
halfway down the block.” Then she swept the laptop aside and Adam followed her
into the limo, the dog on his lap as limp as a noodle.
She speed-dialed Parker. “I’ve got an emergency. A dog. No, I don’t think he’s
been hit. But he’s dying.” Her voice caught. The dog’s eyes hadn’t opened. His
neck wound was infected. He lay as if he hadn’t a bone in his body.
Parker met them at the door, held it open as Adam strode through. They cut
through the waiting room, past a kid with a squirming puppy, and an old man
with a Chihuahua in the crook of each arm, to an examining room at the end of a
hallway. Adam laid the dog, still wrapped in his jacket, on the stainless steel
table.
“I’ll take it from here,” Parker said, and shooed them out.
The receptionist waited with a clipboard. “Whose dog is it?”
Maddie opened her mouth to claim him, then bit her lip. Dogs weren’t allowed in
her building.
“Bill it to me,” Adam said.
Cara
Connelly is an award-winning author of contemporary romances. Her smart and
sexy stories have won high praise, earning Cara several awards including the
Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart, the Valley Forge Romance Writers’
Sheila, and the Music City Romance Writers’ Melody of Love. Cara, who lives in
rural upstate New York, works as appellate court attorney when she’s not
crafting steamy novels of love and romance.
Author Social Links
Website:
http://www.caraconnelly.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6921968.Cara_Connelly
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