Thursday, January 23, 2020

Sold to the King by Carmen Falcone - New Release and Giveaway

Sold to the King
by Carmen Falcone
Series: The Highest Bidder, #2
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Release Date: March 22, 2020

I’m less than a week away from being crowned king.

To celebrate my last days of freedom, I’m indulging in all kinds of hedonistic activities —including attending the coveted Virgin Auction.

When I see Izzy on stage, I forget where I am. She’s gorgeous. I must have her. At any cost.

Even if only for three weeks.

Even if it can only ever be temporary.

And especially because it’s the last time I can do something for myself and not what’s best for my country.

I’m bound by duty and honor, but for the next few weeks I get to have my American cake and eat her too… one decadent bite at a time.

“Are you ready?” Jackie, the blonde who’d been helping Izzy for the most part of that god-awful day, asked.

Isabela Lima scratched her head, hating the amount of spray the stylist had used to make her hair fuller. “Not yet.” She sighed, and her heart raced. How ready was she to get the money she needed to go to a country in Africa and avenge her stepmother’s death? Very.

How ready was she to sell her virginity in order to get said money?

Not at all.

Jackie nodded. The woman reminded her of a damn Tinker Bell, with her kind eyes and pixie hair. “How do you feel?”

Izzy glanced at her feet. The outrageously high heels made up for her five foot four height. She had to practice wearing them ever since Madame Alexa had suggested them, during their multiple interviews. “Like a new life is about to begin.”

“That’s a way to look at it,” Jackie said.

Izzy smoothed her hand over the golden empire dress they’d picked out for her. When she told them she was a high school history teacher, they picked a gown straight from the Game of Thrones dressing room. They’d braided her hair and sprayed some shit on her head, face and neck to make her sparkle. Sure, she was no supermodel but did she really need all this junk to pass for pretty?

“Madame Alexa would like a word,” Jackie said, before discreetly leaving the room.

A cold sweat slicked Izzy’s palms. Shit. What if Madame Alexa, the boss lady who founded and ran the controversial House of Alexa, Nevada’s infamous virgin auction, had discovered the real reason behind her becoming an auctionee?

To earn enough money to travel to the kingdom of Gwokon, in Africa, to find and avenge the people responsible for her stepmother’s murder. Mary Roberts had married Izzy’s adoptive father Harold, and even after his death, continued to be kind and supportive to her. She’d been more of a mother figure than her own birth mother, a crack addict who abandoned her in the orphanage in Rio de Janeiro at five, until Harold had adopted her at ten years old.

Anger thickened her throat, and she tried to swallow, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. For the past twelve months, she’d tried to get a second job, or a loan from the bank, but with no luck. Because of the money she’d spent hiring a detective to find her stepmother, all her resources were tapped out. And worse, the slimy investigator scammed her and never gave her a solid lead.

When Izzy heard about House of Alexa, she’d laughed. Of course she wouldn’t make it through the scrutiny of the selection process, let alone be picked for a weekly virgin able to make hundreds of thousands of dollars by selling her body for up to a month, the amount of time the buyer would have her at his disposal for. And, after that month, she’d be a rich woman with enough money to pursue her goal. Besides, a lot of buyers came from Gwokon. How lucky would she be to get a buyer from the very same place she aspired to visit? A rich man, no doubt, who could, unbeknownst to him, provide her insider information about the Gwokondenese monarchy.

Finally, she’d stop having nightmares of the terrible things Mary had to endure abroad. Mary Roberts had gone to Gwokon to meet a man she’d met online. Obasi Akenzua. After a few days in the country, she disappeared, and two weeks later, was found dead by the river with needles of heroin still injected into her. Obasi had conveniently vanished as well.

“Izzy?” said a deep female voice, one that belonged to the imposing woman who ran House of Alexa.

Izzy turned to see Alexa’s curvy figure, her bright blue eyes and sultry dark hair that framed her face and shoulders like luxurious dark drapes. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Carmen Falcone learned at an early age that fantasizing about fictional characters beats doing math homework any day. Brazilian by birth and traveler by nature, she moved to Central Texas after college and met her broody Swiss husband—living proof that opposites attract. She found in writing her deepest passion and the best excuse to avoid the healthy lifestyle everyone keeps talking about. When she’s not lost in the world of romance, she enjoys spending time with her two kids, being walked by her three crazy pugs, reading, catching up with friends, and chatting with random people in the checkout line.

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