Book Feature – One Shade of Red by Scott Bury

Romance Promo Central is happy to welcome Scott Bury to the blog! He’s here to share some information about his new release, One Shade of Red. If this book sounds like something that you would be interested in reading, please find some buy links at the bottom of the post and pick up a copy or two!

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ShadeofRedSizedOne Shade of Red

 

Women want the perfect man, so they can change him. But when university student Damian Serr discovers a rich, beautiful woman who’s voracious about sex, he doesn’t try to improve on perfection. It’s all that he can do to hold on for the ride.

 

Damian has always followed the rules, always tried to please others. At 20, he still dates the girl next door because his parents like her parents. When Nick, his university roommate, asks Damian to take over his pool-cleaning business so he can take an internship in London, Damian can’t say no — especially to Nick’s first and only client, a rich widow.

 

But widow Alexis Rosse is far from helpless or lonely. This beautiful financial genius is busy turning the markets upside-down, and she revels in sex wherever, whenever and with whomever she wants.

 

Over the summer, Alexis gives Damian an intense education. Day after day, she pushes him to his sexual limits. The only question he has is: will she break them?

 

“So well-written that it flows easily, hooking the reader right from the beginning. I had real problems to stop reading it.” — Cinta Garcia de la Rosa, author of A Foreigner in London and reviewer of Indie Authors You Want to Read.

 

“How nice it is to see a dude lit-style book! And well-written at that!” Lisa Jey Davis, “Ms. Cheevious”

 

“So hot, you’ll want your own pool boy.” — Charity Parkerson, author of The Society of Sinners

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Scott2011Bio:

Scott Bury is a journalist, editor and novelist based in Ottawa, Canada. His articles have appeared in magazines in Canada, the US, the UK and Australia, including Macworld, the Financial Post, Applied Arts, the Globe and Mail and Graphic Arts Monthly.

One Shade of Red is his second novel to be published.

His first published novel is The Bones of the Earth, a fantasy set in the real time and place of eastern Europe of the sixth century. He has also published a short story, Sam, the Strawb Part (proceeds of which are donated to an autism charity), and a paranormal story, Dark Clouds. His work in progress is tentatively titled Walking from the Soviet Union, and tells the true story of a Canadian drafted into the Red Army during the Second World War, his escape from a German POW camp and his journey home.

Scott Bury lives in Ottawa with his lovely, supportive and long-suffering wife, two mighty sons and the orangest cat in history.

Scott can be found:

Website * Blog * Twitter * Facebook

One Shade of Red can be purchased:

Amazon * Smashwords

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Excerpt from:

Chapter 11: Dom and Sub

 

Time to look at the books. That’s what the text message had said. That, and a time: 5:00 SHARP.

I swung into Alexis’ driveway at 4:58 just as the garage door closed the last few centimetres. Proud of myself for not being late for once, I gathered the chequebook and other business statements from the passenger seat and knocked on the front door.

“It’s open,” Alexis said through the squawk box. I headed for the study.

Alexis wore what I had trouble reconciling as a business suit: a severe jacket with no lapels or pockets and a narrow skirt, but in purple. How could any Bay Street executive take her seriously when she’s wearing purple? She had on a single strand of bright white pearls and her wrist sparkled: a single band of diamonds that went all the way around.

She had the day’s Globe and Mail spread out on the cubist desk, so I put the PoolGeeks books on the side table. “I got your text message,” I said.

“Change of plan. I’ve had enough of business for the day. Go get some wine from the cooler, and two big glasses from the kitchen cabinet,” she ordered.

I hesitated, then shrugged. She was doing so much to help me, I couldn’t begrudge fetching her some wine. Especially since she told me to bring two glasses.

“Make it the Chablis, on the right side,” she called after me as I headed down the hall.

It took me a few minutes of searching wine labels to identify Chablis, especially since I didn’t expect it to be spelled “Chablis.” By the time I got back to the study, Alexis had taken off her shoes and was lounging on the sofa.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked as I struggled with the corkscrew. Why do the French still insist on corks?

“Don’t you read the newspaper?” she asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“Not much,” I admitted and handed her a glass. I started to pour another, for myself, but Alexis said: “Wait. That was a hint, dummy. Take a look at the newspaper.”

I craned my head to read the pages splayed out on the desk. Report on Business. I scanned down to a big, full-colour picture on the front of the section. “Hey! That’s you!”

Alexis nodded and drank her wine. I read the headline: Red Capital Completes Blaine Takeover. “What, you took over a company?”

“I did that a month ago. It just cleared regulatory approval.”

“Wow. I had no idea …”

“That I had a brain in my head?”

“No, I mean, yes. I mean, I know you’re smart and great at business, Alexis. You’ve done wonders for me! But, wow, front page of the Report on Business! Wow.”

Damian, you really sound like an idiot, said my brain.

“I’m not just a pretty face, Damian.” She reached behind her head and took out her hair clips. Her curls spilled out over her shoulders and she looked so much more relaxed.

“You’ve been working on this a long time? What’s ‘Red Capital’?”

“It was my late husband’s company. I own it now. I’ve transformed it from a passive hedge fund into a pretty aggressive capital acquisitions firm.”

I skimmed the article in the paper: there seemed to have been some controversy in the acquisition; the Blaine managers had resisted the takeover. “Impressive,” I said.

“They had no idea how to handle me,” Alexis said, rubbing one foot up and down the opposite calf. “Everyone thought I married Charles for his money and social status. And I admit, that was part of the attraction.

“But I really did love him. And I would have been a force on the Street with or without him. Having access to his money just brought me there a little sooner. This coup proves it. I’ve made a mark on the Street and the old boys aren’t going to forget it for a long time.” She drank the rest of the wine and held out the glass for a refill.

“Now, it’s time for me to reward myself. I’ve just made a hundred million dollars for my company, and several million in personal commissions for myself. And I’m going to spend it. But first, a different kind of treat for the Queen.” She stood and put her glass down on the table. “Undress me.”

“Sorry?”

“I want to feel free, and I don’t want to be bothered taking my own clothes off. So are you going to undress me, or do I have to order up a gigolo from CraigsList?”

I didn’t wait any longer. I stepped behind her and slid her jacket off her shoulders, pulling the sleeves down her arms so smoothly it almost didn’t even touch her.

Her sleeveless blouse had buttons in the back. I didn’t bother puzzling over that (is there anything stupider than buttons in the back of a shirt?) and pulled down the skirt zipper at her hip.

“Fold them nicely,” Alexis admonished. “I love my clothes.”

I folded everything and placed them in a neat stack on the sofa. Alexis held up her arms. “Bra,” she said.

I unhooked the lacy purple bra and gently pulled the straps off her arms, careful not to touch her skin. I wasn’t sure what she really wanted, but that seemed like a safe decision. I hooked my forefingers under the elastic strap of her lacy purple underwear and pulled it down her legs. It took a lot of willpower not to kiss the perfect roundness of her buttocks when it was right at face level.

Alexis stepped out of her underwear and I folded them and put them on top of the rest of her clothes. She stretched her arms up over her head and breathed deeply. “God, that feels better. It was all I could do to stay in my clothes in that boardroom. Those fucking assholes were so stupid and so mad, I just wanted to tear off my clothes and then scratch out their eyes! No, yank out their tongues. Assholes.” She drank down the rest of her wine. “Fill that up, then bring another bottle to the bedroom.” I watched her hips and ass sway out of the study.

I ran back to the kitchen and found another bottle of Chablis. I shoved the corkscrew into my pocket and carrying wine glasses in one hand, the open, one-third-full bottle in the other and the full bottle under my arm, I ran up the stairs to her bedroom.