Love Lost is book one of the Love’s Improbable Possibility series:
You ever wonder what events led up to an individual’s inability to trust? Love Lost starts off by peeling back layers of a young girl who experienced the loss of essential, reliable and nurturing love.
Rayna Brimm, hailing from an inner-city in New Jersey, survives a series of betrayal and loss only to forge forward in self-preservation and obtain an education in North Carolina. After receiving her degree, vowing never return home, she finds herself in California where she tries to build a self-contained life. She made a personal declaration to get through life without further dependence on others in order to avoid yet another heartbreak. Only, fate said otherwise.
Enter Azmir Jacobs, a tall, dark, handsome and very wealthy man, who has street credibility and executive power in the corporate world. Azmir has money, power and beautiful women at his beck and call, BUT only one woman has caught his eye. The resilient Rayna Brimm, a woman whose dysfunctional upbringing contributes towards her tough skin, issues with trust and a deep-seated fear to love, turns out to be more than he bargained for when he discovered her in his boardroom presenting a leasing proposal.
Rayna isn’t the only one with a checkered past. Can Azmir conceal his convoluted life long enough to prove that he can provide Rayna the stable and reliable love that she clearly needs and deserves? Or will his lofty lifestyle and endless resources scare her away?
Just when you thought you’d begun the read of an urban novel, you turn the pages and find this is by no means an urban novel, but the journey of a classic love tale and a story of redemption instead. The Love’s Improbable Possibility series is a slow weaving journey of love. Be prepared to progress into the world of Rayna Brimm. A story of love’s redemption.
Peek into the book:
“He flashed a smile—the most disarming I’d ever encountered. His teeth weren’t chalk white, but they were damn near that and perfectly aligned. I blushed inwardly. He was right. I always avoid telling men where I live.
“Ummmm…you’re right. I live in Glendale. And you?” I asked sarcastically.
“That’s funny. I use to live next door in Pasadena. We were practically neighbors. How long have you been there?” I noticed right away that Azmir’s words were measured and his voice was controlled. He was deliberate in speech and delivery. His calculated tête-à-tête, though intimidating, kept me on my toes.
“For a couple of years now. How about you?” I asked, not missing how he still hadn’t shared where he resided.
“I bought the place about ten years or so ago. I was thinking about moving to Glendale, but now that you’re leaving, I’ve changed my mind.” He was flirting. That was a blatant flirt that caught me clear off guard. He didn’t even blink while speaking, his eyes settled on me with a searing gaze that a predator used to lure its prey. I glanced around to see who was looking or listening, but no one had been.
“Do you flirt with all of your associates like this? Or—don’t tell me—I’m a special exception, right?” My eyes squinted to caution his charm. I didn’t want him to know how magnetic it was, I couldn’t.
“Only the ones that I want to take out and get to know. Tell me, Ms. Brimm, are you dating someone?”
My breath hitched, I was so green and enraptured by his authoritative and enchanting mien, I didn’t know what to do. I’d been approached by a fair number of men in my life, but this man was different. He had this quality that was unlike anything I’d ever been up against.
Virile dominance radiated from his head that would occasionally cock to the side, bringing my attention to the way his tongue pressed back into his molars, telling of exercised patience. His broad shoulders caped in designer vesture, his long and coordinated fingers that flickered indiscriminately as if they communicated fleeting self-control or unspoken desire. The width of the space between his thighs as his extended legs supported his long commanding frame revealed his confident stance. And his buffed oxfords that told of a man on a cosmopolitan journey. I was instantly smitten by him.
“What are you asking? Let’s be clear here.” I gave a fixed matter of fact tone that did not include a smile. He smirked as if he was impressed...or well entertained.
“What are you doing Saturday night?”
“I have class on Saturday.” Something that didn’t typically occur and I suddenly regretted the inconvenience.
“How about Friday?” he tried again.
“I’m taking my girlfriend out for her birthday.”
He sighed so sexily with a hint of a smirk and I felt the coolness of his breath hitting my face making my belly clench.
“You’re killing me.” His tone was low and husky. My nipples hardened at his despair. It was so unintentionally seductive, beguiling.
“Here. Take this number and call. This is a realtor friend of mine.” Pulling a business card from his wallet his voice was authoritative, succinct. “He’s good. I’ll tell him to expect your call and to treat you like a friend…of mine, of course.” His eyes were fastened to mine, communicating something luminous. “You can give him a ring after you call me.” His voice was crisp and commanding, I felt slightly intimidated as he pulled a pen from his inner suit jacket pocket and wrote on a napkin. He pushed it over to
me with those long fingers.
“Thanks.” I took the napkin he’d scribbled the contact information on and began gathering my things. I was over my allotted time. “Now, I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll be on my way. Thanks for the contact, I’ll give…” I glanced at the business card. “…Mr. Scott a call, using you as a reference. But as far as your old-school cacography on a napkin, if you’re really interested—work for it.” I challenged him as I finished collecting my belongings to leave.
I noticed from my periphery that Azmir pulled out that gold pocket watch to assess the time and pointedly gazed at my scurry. The watch was only a tad less intimidating since the first time I’d seen it, but none-the-less entrancing.
As I got up from the table and turned to walk away, I heard him mutter, “8:10-5:15.”
Halting my stride, I turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“Your typical work hours. 8:10-5:15. Sometimes you stay until seven, but you never go past eight, at least not to date.”
I studied his features, amazed by his knowledge of my work hours, not knowing if I should be afraid or awed.
“Those types of hours make for a dull Ms. Brimm…” his head cocked to the side and a salacious smile formed across his face. “…but we’ll do something about that.” Azmir’s eyes flickered with promise.
There was a hum in his voice, a longing that made me smile and my belly flutter. For some reason, I didn’t think it was intended for my entertainment, but more of a challenge.
“I will see you Ms. Brimm,” Azmir yelled out in a more formal tone as I walked away.
Purchase book: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Lost-Loves-Improbable-Possibility-ebook/dp/B00CXUDS3G/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2
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