DEVIL IN THE DETAILS

by Aria Wyatt

Cover & Excerpt Reveal

Release Date: August 9, 2023

Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design
Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography
Model: Andrew Biernat

Synopsis

As a pleasure concierge at The River, New York City’s elite, water-themed adult club, I thought I’d seen it all. Until I find my new boss in my private lagoon, ready to submit.

Publishing mogul Elinora Iverson is an ice queen, and the billionaire divorcee rules her empire with an iron fist. No one dares to challenge her — until she offers me a temporary position with her company’s romance imprint, and we lock horns on my very first day.

I don’t know anything about meet cutes or falling in love. “Happy endings” and pleasure? Well, that’s a totally different story. One I’m more than qualified to edit since I moonlight at The River. With my experience bringing beautiful women to a boil, steamy books prove no match for me. Elinora, on the other hand . . .

Determined to prove myself, I work long hours at the office, hoping she’ll see me as a worthy employee. No matter how hard we try to avoid it, sparks fly whenever we’re in the same room. Mercury really rises when the club hosts a masquerade party, and my two worlds collide.

Elinora doesn’t know I’m the stranger behind the mask. Or that I’ve fantasized about her since the moment we met. The line between reality and fantasy blurs when she calls out my name in the darkness. As we melt into each other, she makes it clear she doesn’t want to share me.

There’s only one problem: I’m bound to another woman.

When you make a deal with the Devil herself, the Devil’s in the details.

Excerpt

Lincoln glances up as I approach his cubicle. “Good morning, Ms. Iverson.”

“Good morning.” I tap my watch. “You’re early.”

“I have goals to meet today.”

“Did you clock in?”

He shakes his head, his dark hair still damp from his shower. “You didn’t authorize overtime, so I’ll punch in at nine.”

I point to the time clock across the room. “Go clock in. You’re my employee—not my servant. I don’t expect you to work for free. Also, you’re not obligated to come in early or stay late.”

“I know,” he replies, rising. “But I wanted to.”

God, he’s tall. I’m five foot eight with heels and the man towers over me. He’s so broad and solid. Muscular, but not bulky. He skipped the suit today, instead opting to wear a teal dress shirt and patterned tie. The greenish hue makes his irises appear a deeper blue—like a lagoon or the depths of the ocean—and I fight the urge to remove his glasses so I can lose myself in his eyes.

I shake my head to focus. “Working extra is not necessary—”

“I want to make this more than a temporary position.” His gaze burns into me, laced with a desperate undercurrent that hits me in my stomach. “Understand that I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Position. All it takes is that one word to leave his plush lips, and I’m out of my mind with lust, imagining all the ways our bodies could come together. His eyes . . . they warm me in places that haven’t felt warmth in years. His stubbled jawline and dimples make my heart race. My mouth waters each time he moves those full, sculpted lips. His deep voice shouldn’t send tingles down my spine. My breath shouldn’t catch when he smiles, either. I shouldn’t want him. I’m a decade older—and oh yeah—his boss.

Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t be attracted to Lincoln Kennedy, we share an undeniable chemistry. It crackles in the air between us like a live wire. Its current pulses through my veins, fluttering in my chest, heating my insides. I know its voltage will destroy me, but my body aches for the shock. For the passion. I need to feel something besides emptiness. It’s a position I want Lincoln to fill.

Even though I shouldn’t.

“You’re off to a strong start,” I whisper, quickly retreating to my office. I close the door behind me and plop into my chair. Wrapping my arms around myself, I rub at the sudden chill that simultaneously feels like a hot flash.

What the hell has gotten into me?