Title: Selective/Memory (The Depth of Emotion, #2)
Author: D.D. Lorenzo
Release Date: April 3, 2014
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Artist: Regina Wamba, http://www.maeidesign.com/
Hosted by: Love Between the Sheets Promotions
Reception or retrieval of only some of
the events in an experience.
An Agenda of Evil…
Join Declan Sinclair and Aria Cole in “Selective/Memory”, Book Two in “The Depth of Emotion” series and witness the conclusion of their story. They will attempt to restructure their individual worlds, but fate continues to intervene by bringing them into the atmosphere of each other. Are they willing to bear love again? Will their emotions sustain the depths that their relationship exposed? Will their feelings for each other be strong enough to sustain a love that will last a lifetime?
Only Fate can Decide…
About The Author:DD Lorenzo is a modern-day storyteller. Her novels reach deep into the heart of readers and engage them through the emotions of her characters.
DD resides in Maryland, The Land of Pleasant Living. She met the love of her life in high school and decided to look no further. Together, they have an eclectic and amazing family. When she isn't writing stories of the impassioned lives of her characters, she is rooting for the Baltimore Ravens or the Baltimore Orioles. Her favorite pastimes include spending time with the wonderful people in her life and riding in her husband's classic Mustang to the Eastern Shore.
"Selective/Memory” is Book 2 in The "Depth of Emotion" Series. It is the conclusion to the cliffhanger “Positive/Negativity” (she promises!). There are five books planned for the series. Book 3, “Here/Now” will be centered on character Carter Sinclair, a fan favorite. “Here/Now” is planned for release Fall, 2014.
The furnishings had arrived earlier in the week. She didn’t inconvenience herself for their arrival—there were people who handled that sort of thing—and she hated mingling with those that didn’t matter. Money took care of them and what they did to suit her.
As she walked from room to room, she took in some of the mediocre choices she had made—all for his taste—so she could achieve her ultimate goal—him.
How did that beach bitch ever stand the look of this shit? she thought as she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the overstuffed sofa and chairs in the living room. It was a bit more elegant a display than was in Declan’s home. Of course it would be—she was Marisol Franzi! Her taste was much better than Declan’s or his former plaything. That was evident to even the most mundane decorator.
Walking through the kitchen, she snickered at the coffeemaker, thinking it almost blasé.
Did he never think of cappuccino, espresso? Did the man even remember he had been all over the world?
The kitchen looked adequate enough, but no matter, she wouldn’t be there long enough to think about it—and she certainly didn’t cook! The idea was appalling.
As her stiletto heels made a clicking sound on the shiny hardwood stairs, Marisol ascended as a queen in a kingdom. The master bedroom suite at the top of the stairs held a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean, its iniquitous waters as black as the void in her soul. The dark night sky held not a single star, to spare her a flicker of hope in her malevolent beauty. An imposing full moon cast a sinister light into the room. It beckoned her to walk up to the large window, which could be seen from the massive bed, the wood expertly carved in the four posters.
♪ “Oh…the things you will see me do, Mr. Moon…” she said suggestively as she reached up, first one arm, then the other, behind her to unzip her dress.
Letting it fall to the floor, Marisol made her way to the bed and crawled like a cat into the middle of its grand size as a contemptible shadow followed her from the window.
Lying there, she stared out at the moon, reveling in the knowledge that she could hear nothing but the objectionable ocean, and that no one would be able to hear the screams and moans that would come from this house. The thoughts that crossed her mind gave her the most delicious sensation running through her veins. She closed her eyes to savor the mental pictures. She had been tolerant, compliant, and even passive until she felt she would scream, but for this, she had planned every small detail. She shivered with the intensity of joy that flooded her, knowing that her efforts would not be in vain, and the time was coming soon. She’d finally get what she had planned and waited for. Nothing—and no one—could stop her. No one ever could.
When she had come to this country, and she, Marisol—THE supermodel—was created, they told her she’d never want for anything again—and they didn’t know how right they were.
She was invincible.
She had conquered everything.
She was a vencedor—a winner!