Wednesday, July 21, 2021

Fallen Rose by Amelia Wilde

 




Title: Fallen Rose
Series: Beauty and the Beast Trilogy #3
Author: Amelia Wilde
Publisher: Dangerous Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 20, 2021


BLURB

Leo Morelli has lost everything.

His safety. His sanity. But worse than that, the woman he loves. He will destroy Bishop’s Landing to get her back, even if it means becoming the monster she fears.

The entire city will feel his wrath.

Haley Constantine loves her beast, but she can’t walk away from her family. They need her now more than ever. It will take more than violence to face these enemies. It will take sacrifice.

Can she give up the man she loves to save him?







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EXCERPT

“Leo.” Eva’s been at my side since she woke me up. She stood in the doorway to my closet and watched me yank a shirt over my head. All my muscles ache. I should be resting. That’s what Carina said, and what Eva repeated, and I will be damned if I’m going to rest with Haley gone. “You need to calm down. Take a breath. We can go to your office.”

“No,” I thunder at her. “Fuck no. I’m not going to calm the fuck down.”

My voice echoes in the room. Conversation comes to a startling halt. My temper is getting away from me. Just a little. Just enough to scare Eva. But I can’t shut it off any more than I can shut off the shrieking pain all down my spine.

Someone from the household staff steps to my side, silent, keeping his eyes off mine. He has a case in his hands, the top held open so I can see the knives inside. I choose one and slip it into the Kevlar sheath on my belt.

Eva watches this with her bottom lip between her teeth. She bites down so hard the flesh is white. Nervous. She’s nervous about what I’m going to do.

I take her face in my hands. It’s too gentle a motion, too careful, and it’s because we’re so close to that line. I would love so much to let the beast take over, and I can’t do it yet. So I take exquisite care with every fucking movement.

I kiss my sister on the forehead, then put both hands on her shoulders to move her aside.

And then I’m going. Striding out of the room. There are more people outside the dining room. More guards. One steps into my path. “Mr. Morelli, it’s not secure outside—”

I have his jacket in my fists before he’s ready. No one is ever ready for me when I’m like this, when I’m on the verge of chaos. He’s a strong man but I’m stronger. I am fucking furious.

It boils and burns, every muscle acidic with it. One step, two, and I have him slammed against the wall. The roar of rage is louder than his skull meeting plaster. My teeth grit together so hard they crack. “It’s not secure anywhere, you fucking fool. You let that bastard take her.”

The rage settles inside me, deeper, deeper, until there’s nothing left of me—of Leo Morelli. I’m the Beast of Bishop’s Landing now.

He struggles against the wall. “Everyone who was on shift at that time has been removed from the property. They’ll be sequestered until the investigation is over.”

“Explain it to me some more.” It’s a taunt.

He looks confused, torn between his duty and his fear. “Sir—”

They’re beginning to gather now. Closing in. I can see Gerard out of the corner of my eye.

“The only reason you remain alive is because I haven’t yet reached for the knife at my belt.” I keep my tone level, like we’re having a conversation at a dinner party, but the dead silence in the foyer means they can all hear me. Good. “When I let go of your jacket, you’ll have a choice. You can stay out of my way and live, or you can put your body in my path and die. It makes no difference to me.”

A single nod.






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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU






AUTHOR BIO

Amelia Wilde wrote her first story when she was six years old, a narrative strongly inspired by The Polar Express. When she was nine she wrote her first novel-length work, all in one paragraph.

Now, Amelia is all about that love. Her romances feature unique, independent heroines and alpha heroes who are strong of heart and body. Readers have described her work as “emotional,” “intense,” “phenomenal,” and “like a child scribbled with a crayon,” which she takes as the highest praise.


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