::::SYDNEY JAMESSON PRESENTS STONE STRIPPED BARE: THE WORLD TOUR::::
We are absolutely thrilled to bring you Stone Stripped Bare: The World Tour for the special limited edition of Sydney Jamesson's TouchStone for play! TouchStone for play is a contemporary romance, hailed as a five star adult fairy-tale and is the first book in the bestselling Story of Us Trilogy.
::::SYNOPSIS::::
The Story of Us Trilogy Begins ...
Twenty seven year old English teacher Elizabeth Parker is waiting to be found. Like the secrets of her past, her beauty is hidden, concealed behind modest clothes and a gentle nature. Into her secluded world enter two powerful men.
Handsome playboy, Ayden Stone is flawless and as skilled in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom. He has a taste for rare and beautiful things, and he wants to taste her: he’ll do anything to make it happen. Uninitiated in the art of seduction, Beth embarks upon a voyage of sexual awakening, allowing Ayden to steer her towards deep and dangerous waters, unaware of their fateful connection.
From a distance, former boxer Dan Rizler, bides his time but never loses sight of the object of his desire: precious Miss Parker. His tormented soul reaches out to her with merciless hands: he must have her.
This is a modern fairy tale full of romantic moments, music and monstrous encounters. Elizabeth Parker is about to be found but will she be bound by her destiny or by her demon …
::::EXCERPT::::
I can see him, but he has no idea I’m here. I’ve entered by the side door and I really think, for once in my life, lady luck is on my side. I blend myself into the flock wallpaper and digest him from the shoelaces up. He seems taller than I remember and he isn’t wearing a suit but black, tailored trousers that must have been made to measure. He has a lean body, broad shoulders and there’s the suggestion of muscles, taut and firm in all the right places. His right hand is in his pocket and the front of his blazer pulls back slightly, drawing attention to his crisp white shirt and the firm package underneath and … is there a hint of chest hair on his collar bone? I can feel myself blushing and imagining what he must look like naked; I wish I’d brought a fan or something to waft away my carnal thoughts. I lick my lips lasciviously at the thought of his mouth on my skin kissing, licking, tasting ...
My God what am I thinking?
I manage to control my breathing, but the air leaving my body is so much hotter on the way out than on the way in. Forcing down a lump in my throat, I continue my visual exploration of Mr. Stone and here comes the best bit: his flawless face. The light in the foyer isn’t stark; it’s created by two stunning chandeliers hanging to his left and right. Hampered only by limited shadow, I’m able to focus on his eyes; framed by heavy brows, they’re darting from left to right, catching every speck of light like polished glass, shimmering with an incredible luminosity. Even from this distance they’re dazzling and hypnotic. How will I hold onto a rational thought when I’m being ensnared by them like a tiny, helpless creature? He’ll chew me up and spit me out and take no delight in the snack. Even his liquorish coloured hair serves to frame his staggering manliness; it’s carelessly dried and may still be wet, and I fantasize about how those black flicks will feel between my hot fingers.
I’m sighing … just look at him, he’s breathtakingly gorgeous.
But, I’m so out of practice. It’s been a year since I went on a date and even then it was arranged for me. Talk about diving in at the deep end ...
Purchase Links:
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/touchstone-for-play-1
iTunes: http://tinyurl.com/ppcfmu9
GooglePlay: https://t.co/cVHKzdbw7v
::::BONUS CHAPTER EXCERPTS::::
I position myself comfortably, taking in the jostling traffic and blurred shapes of Monday morning commuters. Thankfully I’m shielded from the mayhem, the fumes and the noise, yet I’m feeling an uncustomary twinge of something unfamiliar; a kind of prickling sensation signalling an approaching thunderstorm or an argument perhaps.
My phone lands on the seat beside me. How the fuck did I get roped into this? I launched the ‘Payback Programme’ years ago and here I am standing in for my right hand man. This won’t be happening again. I’ll turn up, turn on the charm and get the hell out of there. Job done.
Note to self: Get someone to explain to Jake Harrison how to organise his calendar.
It’s 8.10 a.m. When I raise my eyes, I catch sight of myself in the glass; my mouth curving up at one side in a self-satisfied smirk.
Looking sharp, Stone.
Bring out the welcoming committee ladies, Mr. Stone is about to make an entrance. I lean back into the leather seat, inhaling the calming fragrance of lavender on leather and check my emails.
SECOND EXCERPT:
“Stop! You know I want you to be happy, right? We’ve been through a lot together and when I say what I’m gonna say, you know it comes from a good place, right?”
“For fuck’s sake! Just say it, Jake.”
“Are you sure you’re right for each other? She’s a fucking school teacher and you’re a – for want of a better word – a player. What makes you think she’d be interested in you? Or you interested in her …”
His words ring true. I pause to think … All I wanted to do was get the visit over with and flirt a little and here I am a fucking wreck.
“If you’re serious about her being the one then you have to think it through. If you don’t she might run for the hills. And then what? If you think she might be the one ….”
His words snap me out of my reverie. “She is. She’s … I can’t explain it! I like her smile – a lot.”
He’s laughing. “Her smile! There has to be more to her than that!”
“There is …”
::::ABOUT SYDNEY JAMESSON::::
There are those moments in life when a person you respect says something to you that strikes a chord, we’ve all had them … that moment came one Parents’ Evening when I was 16. An inspirational teacher said; “Your daughter should consider a career in Journalism or as a writer, she has a vivid imagination and a flair for creative writing …” As a wide-eyed teenager, those words were music to my ears. How prophetic was it that I went on to do just that …
For as long as I can remember, I have lived with The Story of Us in my head. The fact that Elizabeth Parker is an English teacher should come as no surprise; as novelists we write, initially, about what we know … Yet, I should confess, she isn’t me but rather that young, sensitive and naïve woman we all were or still are. The difference being, she has been victimized and, because of it, remained hidden. But, unlike some characters who may have suffered at the hands of others, she is not damaged: wary yes, but not damaged. She still believes people are innately good and that is one of her many qualities. It is her propensity for compassion that allows her to invite Ayden Stone into her world when, on the face of it, he’s exactly what she doesn’t need.
So that’s me, furiously typing away until the early hours, unveiling the intricacies of a 21st century fairy-tale; creating an epic story that melds a heady mixture of romance, suspense and a touch of the miraculous.
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