E le sorprese di oggi non sono ancora finite!
Infatti, è disponibile l'ultimo libro della serie dark contemporanea Indebted della regina Pepper Winters :D Quanti di voi attendevano questo giorno con trepidazione?! Buona lettura ;)
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Titolo: Final Debt
Autore: Pepper Winters
Serie: Indebted #6
Genere: Dark Erotic Romance
Data di pubblicazione: 30 Novembre 2015
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The Last Book in the New York TImes Bestselling Dark Romance Series. Where love tries to triumph and darkness continues to reign...
“I’m in love with her, but it might not be enough to stop her from becoming the latest victim of the Debt Inheritance. I know who I am now. I know what I must do. We will be together—I just hope it’s on Earth rather than in heaven.”
It all comes down to this.
Love versus life.
Debts versus death.
Who will win?
SORPRESA! DISPONIBILE ANCHE L'EPILOGO A SOLI € 0.99
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Amazon US | Amazon UK | iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Google Play | Paperback
LEGGI GLI ESTRATTI
NILA WEAVER
“READY TO DIE, Nila?”
Cut’s voice physically hurt
me as he forced me to my knees. The ballroom splendour mocked me as I bowed
unwillingly at the feet of my executioner.
Velvet and hand-stitched
crewel on the walls glittered like the diamonds the Hawks smuggled—a direct
contrast to the roughly sawn wood and crude craftsmanship of the guillotine
dais. No finesse. No pride. Just a raised podium, framework cushioning a large
tarnished blade, and a rope dangling to the side.
“Don’t do this. Cut…think
about what you’ve become. You can stop this.” My voice mimicked a beg but I’d
vowed not to beg. I’d seen things, understood things, and suffered things I
never thought I would be able to endure. I refused to cry or grovel. I wouldn’t
give him that satisfaction.
“In five minutes, this will
all be over, Weaver.” Cut bent to the side and collected a wicker basket.
The wicker basket.
I didn’t want to think
about what its contents would be.
He placed it on the other
side of the wooden block.
My lungs demanded more oxygen.
My brain demanded more time. And my heart…it demanded more hope, more life,
more love.
I’m not ready.
Not like this.
“Cut—”
“No. No more talking. Not
after everything you’ve done.” Ripping a black hood from his pocket, he didn’t
hesitate. No fanfare. No second guesses.
I cried out as the scratchy
blackness engulfed my face, tightening by a cord around my throat.
The Weaver Wailer chilled
me. The diamond collar that’d seen what I’d seen and whispered with phantoms of
my slain family prepared to revoke its claim and detach from around my neck.
This was it.
The Final Debt.
Cut pushed my shoulders
forward.
A heavy yoke settled over
the top of my spine.
I closed my eyes.
I said goodbye.
…
I waited
to die.
***
One
Week Earlier
“NO!”
I
pushed back, gripping the handrails of the private jet, throwing my weight
against Daniel’s incessant pushing. “Stop!”
“Get
up the fucking stairs, Weaver.” Daniel jabbed his elbow into my spine.
I
stumbled, bashing my knee against the high tread. “You can’t do this!” How had
this happened? How had mere hours turned the entire universe against me? Again.
I
wanted to smash every clock. Tear out the cog from every watch.
Time
had once again stolen my life.
Jethro!
Daniel
cackled. “I think you’ll find we can.” He shoved me higher.
My
heart hurt—as if every mile between us and Hawksridge was a blade slicing me
further from Jethro’s protection—a disharmony in an already discorded symphony.
One
moment, I’d been love-bruised and adored, tiptoeing back into the Hall; the
next, I was trapped, forced to dress in jeans and a hoodie, and obey Daniel as
he lurked in my doorway, barking orders to pack a few meagre belongings.
He
hadn’t left me alone.
His
eyes followed my every move. I couldn’t grab the gun I’d hidden thanks to
Jasmine. I couldn’t text Jethro to tell him I’d been caught. All I could do was
run around my room with my lover’s release still damp on my inner thighs and
submit to my nemesis.
The
only saving grace was beneath Daniel’s hateful stare, I’d managed to pack the
clothing I’d altered a few weeks ago. The cuffs full of needles and hems
armoured with tools of my seamstress trade. Those garments were my only hope.
There was no loophole. No way to refuse.
I had
to trust Jasmine would get word to Jethro. That he would come for me…
Before
it’s too late.
The
desolation I’d suffered when Daniel first caught me faded to indignant anger.
I’d been so close to being free. I’d been in Jethro’s arms. I’d been away from
his psychotic family. My heart hardened a little toward Jethro for making me go
back.
Why?
Why did you send me back?
I
didn’t know if I’d have the courage to forgive him.
You
know why. And you will. Of course, you will.
I
couldn’t hate him because I wasn’t selfish. He’d sent me back to protect all of
us. Those precious few who’d accepted him and he’d accepted in return. Love was
the worst enemy, winding its commitment, ensuring no freedom when it came to
clearheaded thinking of adversity.
Jethro
loved too much. Felt too much. Suffered too much. And his siblings would be our
downfall. Kestrel and Jasmine relied on him—just like I did. The responsibility
of settling his family’s wrongs was a terrible burden to bear.
But
he’s not alone.
I
might’ve been stolen. Jethro’s plans to save me might be ruined. But I was
still alive. Still breathing. I wasn’t the naïve girl who’d first arrived at
Hawksridge. I was a woman in love with a Hawk. A Weaver who would draw Hawk
blood.
It’s
not over…
Pain
exploded in my spine as Daniel stabbed me with his fist. “Get in the fucking
airplane.”
“No!”
I threw myself backward, looking frantically at the private hangar. We weren’t
at Heathrow, but a small, private airfield called Turweston. “I won’t!”
No strangers
I could call for help.
No
police or air marshals.
When
Daniel had stalked me from my room and shoved me outside, Cut had been waiting.
With a victorious smile, he’d stuffed me in the back of a limousine.
With a
purring engine, we’d pulled away from Hawksridge, tyres crunching on gravel as
we followed the long driveway off the estate.
My
eyes had scoured the trees, their silhouettes growing stronger as the sun
tinted the sky with pink blushes. Daniel and Cut sat opposite me, toasting each
other with a chilled bottle of champagne. However, I hadn’t been alone on my
side of the limo—I had a guard.
Marquise,
Bonnie’s damn henchman, sat beside me; a mountain of muscle, unyielding and
impenetrable.
“Come
along.” A strange voice raised my gaze.
A man
in a captain’s uniform smiled from the top of the aircraft steps. The private
plane’s fuselage glinted in graphite grey. Sparkling diamonds, inlaid in the
shape of a windswept ribbon, decorated the tail.
“I
don’t want to leave England.”
Daniel
laughed behind me. “Like you have a choice.”
“I
always have a choice, Buzzard.” I glowered over my shoulder. “Just like this
choice of yours will not end well for you.”
If I
don’t kill you, Jethro will.
As far
as Daniel knew, his slain brother was supposedly rotting in some unmarked
grave. Jethro was right. The element of surprise trumped any of Cut and
Daniel’s grand delusions.
He
snarled, “Watch it, bitch. Everything you say to me here will be paid in full
when we’re there.”
“Now,
now. No need for threats.” The captain climbed down a rung, holding out his
hand. “She’ll get on board. Won’t you, my dear? No need to be afraid of flying.
I have an exemplary record.” White hair tufted from either side of his pristine
flying cap. In his mid-fifties, he looked fit and toned and impatient to take
off.
“I
can’t leave.”
I
can’t be so far from Jethro.
The
captain smiled, waving at his vessel. “Of course, you can. Plus, I bet you’ve
never travelled in such style.”
“It’s
nothing against your mode of transport. It’s the destination I disagree to. I’m
staying here.” I dug my heels into the metal grate, fighting against Daniel’s
perpetual pushing. “I don’t have my passport, visa… I can’t travel across
borders, so you might as well let me return home.”
Home.
Had
Hawksridge Hall become my home?
No,
don’t be absurd.
But
Jethro had. It didn’t matter where we ended up. What we did for work. How our
lives panned out. As long as I was alive with Jethro by my side…I would be
home.
“Don’t
fuss about that.” The captain waved his hand in invitation. “Travel is good for
the soul.”
Not my
soul.
Travel
meant my soul would become untethered from my body, thanks to Cut and the Final
Debt.
The
sun barely peeked over the horizon, hidden by soupy fog and reluctant night.
The world refused to warm, unable to shed the morning frost or dislodge the
claws of winter. England didn’t want to say goodbye as much as I did, its
reluctant dawn wanting me to stay.
“If
you don’t get on the motherfucking plane in two seconds, Weaver, you’ll live to
regret it,” Daniel growled.
I
glared at the youngest Hawk. “Haven’t you learned by now your threats don’t
scare me?”
Forcing
myself to stand taller, I hid the quaking in my bones, the quivering in
muscles, the rampant terror scurrying in my blood. “I know where you want to
take me, and I refuse.”
Daniel
pinched the bridge of his nose. A second later, he cuffed me on the back of the
head. “Behave!”
I
gritted my teeth against the wash of agony.
“Almasi
Kipanga is a fucking treat for the likes of you, Weaver. Get on your knees and
show some goddamn appreciation. Otherwise, I’ll rip out your fucking tongue and
ensure peace for the rest of the trip.”
“Ah,
as I said, there’s no need for violence.” The captain took another step, prying
my hand off the railing and tugging me upward. “Come along, my dear. Let’s get
you inside. And don’t you worry about visas and things. Leave it to me. Airport
control won’t be an issue.”
Vertigo
cast the world in monochromatic greys as I swayed toward the captain. “But—”
Cut
barrelled past Daniel—reaching the end of his patience. Grabbing my arse, he
shoved me upward, forcing me like unwilling livestock up the final steps. “I
have your passport, Nila. Get on the plane.” His breath skated over the back of
my neck. “And don’t think about refusing again. Got it?”
Gripping
the fuselage, I looked over my shoulder. “My passport? How did you—”
He waved
a black binder in my face. “Everything is in here. You have no more excuses, and
I won’t ask again. Get on the fucking plane or I’ll knock you out and you can
wake up when we get there.”
CONOSCI L'AUTRICE
Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends. She's also honoured to wear the IndieReader Badge for being a Top 10 Indie Bestsellers, best BDSM series voted by the SmutClub, and recently signed a two book deal with Grand Central. Her books are currently being translated into numerous languages and will be in bookstores in the near future.
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