Pamela Yaye - Games of the Heart

Desire hovered over the living room, smothering them with its thick, intoxicating perfume. The wine, the music and the gentle breeze gliding through the balcony doors heightened their growing passion.

Marshall swept her hair off her shoulders. His mouth was sweet, soft, pleasing. He pressed his lips against the slope of her neck and she moaned with pleasure. Sage had a strong sense of her own feminine power and sensuality, but Marshall’s kisses turned her inside out. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, she pitched her head back, words spilling from her lips between jagged breaths. Tracing his fingers along her back in a loose zigzag pattern, he teased her earlobe with his tongue. “You like that?”

“Love it.”

“Want more?”

has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband and adorable daughter.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To the entire Kimani team: I want to thank everyone who

was involved in bringing this story to life. A big thanks to

the editorial assistants who answer all of my questions; the

marketing team for another gorgeous cover and intriguing

blurb; and all the people working behind the scenes. Keep

doing what you do. You’re doing an amazing job!

Dear Reader,

I’m not a risk taker. Never have been, never will be. I don’t speed, I don’t do extreme sports and you’ll never catch me on one of those bug-eating reality shows (I don’t care how much they pay me!). So imagine my surprise when ballsy, gutsy Sage Collins barged into my thoughts, plunked herself down and insisted I write her story. A story about a fiercely driven celebrity manager who’ll stop at nothing to advance her career.

The vivacious city chick never imagined a handsome guy with old-fashioned family values would get in her way, but from the moment Sage meets Marshall Grant, she knows her plan is in trouble. Their connection is instantaneous, powerful, consuming. Sage is a strong-minded woman, but beneath the Gucci business suit is a wounded heart that only one man can mend. One fine, supertall man who knows a thing or two about seduction!

I can’t wait to “hear” what you think, so post your thoughts and opinions about Sage and Marshall’s story at www.pamelayaye.com.

With love,

Pamela Yaye

Jean-Claude and Aysiah Yaye:

I love you more and more each day. I feel incredibly blessed that I get to share my life with both of you. May the next seven years of our lives be even happier than the first.

Mom and Dad:

You are the picture of happiness and love. I know what a “good” marriage looks like because I saw it growing up each and every day. I haven’t forgotten my promise. One day I’ll take you guys on that dream vacation. Hawaii, here we come!

Bettey Odidison:

Sister, you are such a blessing. I love you, I’m incredibly proud of you and I miss you! I can’t wait to see you again, so hurry up and find Mr. Right so I can help plan the wedding (hee, hee) !

Kenny Odidison:

I have a big brother who looks out for me and who’ll hook me up when I need it. What a blessing! Thanks for always having my back, Ken. You have turned out to be a truly wonderful man.

Sha-Shana Crichton(my supercool agent and friend):

Because of you, I’m living one of my dreams. You’ve played a significant role in my career and I feel fortunate to have you. You’re a great listener who also gives quality advice. Know that everything you say and do on my behalf is appreciated.

Kelli Martin:

When I see your name in my in-box, I’m so excited I practically jump out of my seat! I look forward to reading your editorial notes and am amazed at how much attention you give each line, each page and each chapter. Thanks for all of your hard work and for taking the time to get to know me better. (But I knew we’d click the second you said you liked Jagged Edge!)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

“Come on, you stupid thing,” Sage Collins grumbled, huffing vigorously. “I gave you my change, now give me my damn Kit Kat candy bar!” Forgetting that she was at Indianapolis’s illustrious Westchester Academy, and that impressionable young children were milling about, she smacked the vending machine glass powerfully with her right palm. “I want my chocolate bar and I want it now, you good for nothing piece of—”

“What’s going on here?” demanded a voice behind her.

Sage didn’t bother to turn around. Her eyes were fixed on the chocolate bar, held captive between a jumbo bag of Cheetos cheese puffs and a can of roasted peanuts.

“Do I need to get security?”

Now the man had her attention. Sage tossed a look over her shoulder and quickly regarded the taller-than-average brother. He was a giant of a man. Built like an NFL linebacker, but without the jiggly beer belly and menacing stare, he had extrawide shoulders, ripped forearms and a pair of strong, sturdy legs. Staggered by his height, but not the least bit intimidated by his brisk tone, she expelled a breath. “This machine sucks,” she told him, sweeping her bangs off her forehead. “If I had matches, I’d torch it.”

“Ever stop to think that maybe it’s the customer and not the product?”

“No, because it robbed a six-year-old of his allowance five minutes ago.”

His furious scowl matched the heat in his eyes. “You’re acting like a deranged psycho, and I’m supposed to believe you? Are you on medication or something?”

Sage was a mature, cultured, twenty-eight-year-old woman, but she felt like smacking the man hard upside the head. Hot with anger, she scrutinized the burly stranger with the aggressive wide-legged stance. His plaid shirt should be in a box on its way to Goodwill charity donations and his faded jeans had obviously seen better days. In Las Vegas, a brother would never be caught dead wearing scuffed shoes, she thought. They dressed to the nines or not at all. But up here in Indianapolis, dressing casual took on a whole new meaning. The man needed a new pair of Birkenstock shoes, and most importantly, a new attitude.

“Are you from around here?”

“No, and I don’t have a name or phone number, either.”