Her Knight in Black Leather is on sale for 2 weeks! 99 cents from July 21-31. So, I thought I’d share a scene that was cut from the original version of the book that I wrote…way back when.
Her Knight in Black Leather went through a few revisions before it became the book that’s now published. The hero, Michael Brant, originally began his life as Logan James, the brother of Dillon James, from The Playboy’s Baby. I got all the way to the end of this book and something still felt off. Something was missing. I tweaked, I tried fully fleshing out the story, but it still didn't feel right. So, on a whim, I decided to try changing his name. Low and behold, Michael’s story opened up.
So, in this scene, you’ll notice the hero’s name is still Logan. I’m leaving it as is. This is the version I originally sent to my agent. I originally aimed this one at Harlequin. I got a revision request, but it ultimately got turned down.
“You haven’t been answering my calls, Cat.”
Standing beside her car in front of the bookshop, fishing her keys out of her purse, the sound of the all too familiar voice had a stone of dread dropping in Cat’s stomach. The one person she hoped never to see again. Nick. He hadn’t stopped calling her since those last two pictures of her and
Logan had hit the paper a week ago. Along with her prank caller, it was yet another annoying phone call she was trying to avoid.
“Take a hint, Nick.” As the sound of his footsteps moved closer, she didn’t bother turning around. She concentrated instead on pulling out her keys and unlocking her car door, hoping to get inside before he reached her. From the way he slurred his words, he’d been drinking, and Nick always became very confrontational when he’d been drinking.
Just as she shoved her key into the lock, his body pressed against her back, his hands coming to rest on the car on either side of her. His head moved down beside her ear. “How is it you’d rather be his whore than my wife?”
His breath reeked of alcohol, turning her stomach, and the low, menacing tone of his voice sent chills skittering down her spine.
With her heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest, she darted a glance around. Being at night, the street was empty save a few cars parked in front of the club, and the only people awake were in it.
She glanced over her shoulder, jabbing her elbow back into his ribs, hoping it would push him off her enough that she should yank her car door open. “Get off of me, Nick.”
Being twice her size and not one to take no for an answer, he only laughed. He leaned his body weight into her, his arousal clear as he pressed her up against the car. “It really turns me on when you’re feisty, Cat.”
This time his lips skimmed the side of her neck, and shivers of disgust raced down her spine. God what had she ever seen in him?
Fear and the beginnings of panic now starting to settle into the pit of her stomach, she shoved back against him, pushing as hard as she could against the car in an effort to free herself.
“I said get off of me!” She jabbed her elbow back again, this time connecting with his side, and he grunted. His hold on her slackened enough that she managed to squeeze out from beneath him, but she only managed to get a two steps away. His hand closing painfully around her arm, he yanked her back and turned her to face him.
Remembering the self defense her mother had taught her when she was little—one of the few good things her mother had ever done for her—she drew her knee up hard, connecting with his groin. Rather than dropping to the ground as she’d expected, Nick merely grunted again. His eyes went hot with fury and he snatched her wrist, twisting it in a painful direction, forcing her to drop her keys. Then snatching both wrists, he folded her arms up against her chest and slammed her back against the car door. The vehicle rocked against the force and the air rushed from her lungs.
“You’ll give it out to a complete stranger, but somehow you have a problem with me?” He growled the words, half sneering at her, his free hand sliding down her thigh, slowly inching her skirt up above her knees. “Maybe I should just take it from you. You always did like it a little rough.”
Cat closed her eyes and swallowed hard, tears pricking behind her eyelids as full on panic grabbed her by the throat. For a single pounding heartbeat, she could only concentrate on dragging air into suddenly oxygen starved lungs.
Her mother’s words rang in her head, the day she’d taught her to fight back. Focus, Cat! It’s you or him. Nobody’s going to save you. If someone attacks you, you’re going to have to save yourself.
Nick leaned in closer, flicked his tongue over her jaw, his hand settling on her inner thigh.
Ignoring the sudden urge to retch, she drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for the fight when Nick’s body abruptly left hers. She opened her eyes in time to see
Logan slam him back into the car beside her, sending it rocking again. Holding Nick by the front of his shirt, Logan leaned his body weight into him, his brow furrowed in anger.
“Try something like that again, Cambridge,”
Logan said, his voice low but oddly cool and detached, “and you’ll find yourself in the hospital next time.”