He’s the most dangerous man she’s ever met…and she’s falling in love with him.
Madison Frost is desperate to escape her life. Daughter of a prominent businessman, she has everything a girl could ask for. Except for a family who’s present in her life, and anyone to talk to outside the four walls of the prison she calls home. Madison dreams of one day leaving her life behind. She never thought being kidnapped is how it would happen.
Now she’s being held captive by a man who’s as frightening as he is sinfully gorgeous. Enormous, muscular, and filled with secrets, the man they call Ghost is an enigmatic mercenary, and Madison is trapped with him. She doesn’t know who hired him or why, but the more time she spends at his mercy, the more she realizes he’s not what he seems. Beneath his rough exterior lies an unexpected gentleness and a heart as broken and battered as her own.
But as Madison lets down her walls, Ghost holds tight to his, hiding secrets that could destroy everything.
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Brighton Walsh spent nearly a decade as a professional photographer before deciding to take her storytelling in a different direction and reconnect with her first love: writing. When she’s not pounding away at the keyboard, she’s probably either reading or shopping—maybe even both at once. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children, and, yes, she considers forty degrees to be hoodie weather. Her home is the setting for frequent dance parties, Lego battles, and more laughter than she thought possible. Visit her online at brightonwalsh.com.
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Before I could move, before I could even take half a step back, he was there, his whole body eclipsing everything in my sight. He towered over me as he reached around me to the cabinet above my head, his arm grazing my breast as he did, and everything in me stilled. I froze, my breath caught in my throat, but I wasn’t scared. This wasn’t the same feeling I’d had the ﬁrst time he’d towered over me when he’d cut my bindings. No, this was something else entirely. Despite my brain ﬁring off warnings that I should be scared, should be terriﬁed by this man who’d less than twenty-four hours ago carried me back here against my will—again—my body reacted all on its own. Goose bumps erupted on my arms and my nipples hardened, and what the hell was that about?
Unaware of the war raging inside my head, he pulled the toaster out and set it on the counter. Then, as if he realized how close he was, his eyes darted to mine, then lower, and I felt utterly naked under his stare. When his eyes met mine again, his gaze was penetrating and heavy.
Almost as quickly as the entire thing happened, the moment was over. Ghost broke eye contact and stepped away from me, grab- bing his plate before settling in at the small dining table.
But I was still frozen, barely breathing, in the aftermath. It was nothing, really, nothing but an accidental brush of his fore- arm against my breast, but just as with lying in the bed together, it felt different. It felt like something more.
And that scared me almost more than anything.