Seize the Night. Tiffany ReiszЧитать онлайн книгу.
Seize the Night
INTERNATIONAL bestselling author
Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
MILLS & BOON
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To Mrs. Colvin, my freshman high school English teacher,
who introduced me to Romeo, Juliet, Paris, The Nurse
and (of course) the one and only Mercutio.
Shakespeare and I have been star-crossed lovers ever since…
TIFFANY REISZ is an award-winning and internationally
bestselling author of The Original Sinners series (Mills & Boon Spice).
When she’s not writing scandalous tales about naughty priests and
quirky dominatrices, she’s doing sordid things to Shakespeare plays.
She lives in Lexington, Kentucky, with her fiancé and two weird cats. Contact her at [email protected] if you dare.
I hope you enjoyed Misbehaving, my first Cosmopolitan Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon story. Now I’m back with Seize the Night, a new sexy Shakespeare retelling for your reading pleasure.
When Mills & Boon asked me for a second Cosmopolitan Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon story, I went for a long bike ride to think about what I should write. Since Misbehaving was a modern erotic update of the comedy Much Ado About Nothing, maybe I’d try my hand at retelling a tragedy. There’s no more famous romance in the history of English literature than the one between Romeo and Juliet. I live in Lexington, Kentucky, also known as the “Horse Capital of the World,” and as I rode, I saw horses everywhere. There’s lots of drama in horse racing, lots of money, beauty and romance, too. Could I update Romeo and Juliet to fit into this world? Of course I could! I took out the death, added a lot of sex, set it among two rival horse-racing families, threw in a happy ending and turned Mercutio’s infamous line “A plague on both your houses” into my Merrick’s “A plague on both your horses!”
What can I say? I was an English major. This is how I put my degree to use.
Friends, Romans, Mills & Boon readers, lend me your eyes. I give you the story of Remi O. Montgomery, manager of Arden Farms, and her star-crossed love affair with Julien Brite of Capital Hills Farms.
PS Fans of my Original Sinners series will catch a few inside jokes. Sorry Wesley couldn’t come to the party. He was busy up north with a certain green-eyed Damn Yankee of our acquaintance.
About the Author
The Winner’s Circle
The boy in blue started the fight but the boy in red finished it. Swearing turned to yelling, which led to shoving and punching within seconds. Remi fished her phone out of her messenger bag, called the security office, and two minutes later the fight was over. Both young men—college kids by the looks of them—were being escorted away. Too much alcohol and testosterone. Too little good sense.
Remi felt the needle prick of her conscience. She couldn’t judge them, tempting as it was. She’d been that age not too long ago, and she remembered being that stupid. Remembered it all too well.
Still, it made no sense to her. Two guys in opposing jerseys fighting at a football game would hardly have been a surprise. Or even a baseball or a basketball game. But this was Verona Downs. When did college boys start getting into fistfights over racehorses? Bizarre. Bizarre was the only word for it.
Bizarre was also the only word for the man who entered the grandstand and strode toward Remi’s seat. He wore all black, as usual. His slacks, his button-down shirt (untucked, of course), leather bracelets on both wrists, shoes, socks and underwear (if he did, in fact, wear underwear), and sunglasses were all black. Under the black sunglasses lurked intelligent blue eyes usually narrowed in suspicion or derision. Most of the women in the stands watched his progress. She didn’t blame them. He was in his mid-thirties, annoyingly handsome and wasn’t smiling. He had an “I can’t wait to rock your world in bed and then make you regret you ever met me” look about him. Women fell for that look often. She hadn’t. She had zero desire to sleep with him. He was Merrick Feingold. Unlike the women who were lusting at him at this moment, Remi had met him.
“Why, pray tell, am I sitting among the plebeians?” Merrick asked as he took his seat next to her. They must have made an odd pair—him in his mysterious all-black attire and she in faded jeans, a tailored plaid shirt and cowboy boots. He looked like a rock star while she tended toward stable girl.
“This is not ancient Rome, and these are not plebeians. These are people just like us,” Remi said as she made a notation in her leather journal. “And you’re sitting here because your boss wants your sunshiny self sitting right next to her.”
“We have that nice Arden Farms private box right over there,” Merrick said, pointing at the clubhouse balcony section where all the horse owners had private air-conditioned boxes. “This ‘man of the people’ routine of yours is infringing on my creature comforts.”
“This is not a ‘man of the people’ routine,” Remi said. “First of all, I