Welcome to the book tour for The Wedding Vow by Cara Connelly!
The Wedding Vow
Save the Date # 2: A Billionaire’s Demand
By: Cara Connelly
Releasing September 30th, 2014
Cara Connelly's second Save the Date novel proves that opposites do attract...
The Playboy Sexy billionaire Adam LeCroix has a mission: hunt down the sultry spitfire he blames for his troubles, demand her help, and exact revenge while he's at it. Maddie St. Clair will help him . . . or else.
The Prosecutor Former prosecutor Maddie damn near nailed Adam for stealing, but the lucky bastard walked. Now, five years later, he's back, arrogant as ever, giving her an ultimatum—work for him to collect the insurance money, or she'll never work again.
The Problem Maddie's all about right and wrong. Adam's shades of gray. So when he uncovers the hot body under her hard-ass veneer and she finds he's a thief with a heart, can the law-and-order lawyer and the fast-and-loose felon put their prickly past behind them?
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/09/the-wedding-vow-save-date-2_4.html
Cara Connelly is an award-winning author of contemporary romances. Her smart and sexy stories have won high praise, earning Cara several awards including the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart, the Valley Forge Romance Writers’ Sheila, and the Music City Romance Writers’ Melody of Love. Cara, who lives in rural upstate New York, works as appellate court attorney when she’s not crafting steamy novels of love and romance.
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Adam held back a laugh. Madeline St. Clair might be tiny enough to fit in his pocket, but she had the grit of a two-hundred-pound cage fighter.
When he’d last seen her five years ago, she was a bloodthirsty young prosecutor, spitting nails as her then-boss, the US Attorney for the Eastern District of New York – who had his eyes on higher office – shook Adam’s hand and apologized for letting the case against him go as far as it had.
Playing magnanimous, Adam had nodded gravely, said all the right things about public servants simply doing their jobs, and with a wave for the news cameras, disappeared into his limousine.
Where he’d cracked a $6,000 bottle of Dom Perignon and made a solitary toast to a narrow escape from the law.
It had been his own damned fault that he’d come so close to being caught, because he had gotten cocky. He’d made a rare mistake, a minute one, but Madeline had used it like a crowbar to pry into his life until she’d damn near nailed him for stealing the Lady in Red.
The newly discovered Renoir masterpiece had been sold at Sotheby’s to a Russian arms dealer, a glorified mobster who cynically expected a splashy show of good taste to purge the bloodstains from his billions. Adam couldn’t stomach it, so he’d lifted the painting. Not for gain; he had his own billions. But because great art was sacred, and using it as a dishrag to wipe blood off the hands of a man who sold death was sacrilege.
Adam had simply saved the masterpiece from its unholy purpose.
It wasn’t the first time, or the last, that he’d liberated great art from unclean hands. He told himself that it was his calling, but he couldn’t deny that it was also a hell of a lot of fun. Outsmarting the best security systems money could buy taxed his brain in ways that managing his companies simply couldn’t. Training for the physical demands kept him in Navy-SEAL condition. And the adrenaline rush, well, that couldn’t be duplicated. Not even by sex. No woman had ever thrilled him that intensely or challenged him so completely on every level.
But now the shoe was on the other foot. One of his own paintings – his favorite Monet – had been heisted clean off the wall of his Portofino villa.
Just the thought made his teeth grind.
Oh, he’d find it eventually; he had no doubt of that. He had the resources, both money and manpower. He was patient. He was relentless. And when he got his hands on the bastard who’d infiltrated his home – his sanctuary – he’d make him pay for his hubris.
But in the meantime, he had a more immediate concern. The insurance company, Hawthorne Mutual, was dragging its feet, balking at paying him the $44 million the Monet was insured for.
Forty-four million was a lot of money, even to a man like him. But it was the company’s excuse for holding it up that really pissed him off. They needed to investigate the theft, they claimed, because Adam had once been a “person of interest” in the theft of the Renoir.
In short, Hawthorne’s foot-dragging could be laid at Madeline's door. She’d damaged Adam’s reputation, impugned his integrity. Cast a shadow of doubt over one of the richest men in the world.
Never mind that she’d been right about him.
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