Alessandra Torre is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author of twelve novels. Her books focus on romance and suspense, all with a strong undercurrent of sexuality. Torre has been featured in such publications as Elle and Elle UK, Dirty Sexy Funny with Jenny McCarthy, as well as guest blogged for the Huffington Post and RT Book Reviews. She is also the Bedroom Blogger for Cosmopolitan.com.
When writing a book, a lot of scenes don't make the cut. Want to know a secret? As hard as it is to write a scene, it's ten times harder to delete that scene. It feels like because I put the effort into words, and I like some of those words, that I have to keep all of them. Even if they distract the reader from the plot. Even if they don't add to the story. OR, even worse, if they detract from the story.
Here's another secret. I've got one of those deleted scenes. It's from my latest release, LOVE CHLOE. And it's spoiler-free! Want to read it?
Check it out:
I hated Vic’s parents. They were snobby. Entitled. They had five homes, a century of wealth behind them and preset notions on who their son should date and what she should be like. They wanted a wife, someone polished and perfect, someone who would dote on their son and overlook his faults. I fell short. Especially to his mother. His father… well. I forget, dear blog, that you don’t know all of my secrets. You don’t know what I was so afraid would hit the press after my photos with Joey Plazen emerged. The scandal of that summer in the Hamptons. Before my parents’ poor choices overshadowed everything and drowned out my drama in a shitstorm of their own making.
Vic’s father is a bigger version of Vic. He swaggers. He dominates. He commands. He thinks that he owns people because he controls their financial livelihoods. He pushes people’s buttons to watch them jump and toys with lives for the pure entertainment of it all. And he doesn’t care if there is collateral damage along the way. Even if it affects him. Even if it affects his son.
It wasn’t that I was scared of him. I was just intimidated. And Vic didn’t help. For the first time ever, he’d been nervous and on-edge. He wanted his father’s approval so badly; he wanted me to pass the test. His father seemed larger than life when he’d strode into that three-story greatroom, the Atlantic Ocean sparkling through the windows behind me, everything about the room perfectly set for his grand entrance, for the impact that Victor Worth made when he met someone. It felt like the ground shook when he walked. It felt like I physically shrank when he came closer. He extended a hand and smiled, and I felt the pull…the same as I had with Vic… and helplessly put out my own hand.
“Beautiful.” His eyes dragged over me, his mouth curving into a smile, white teeth glinting at me like fangs, his hand strong in its squeeze. “You are absolutely beautiful Chloe.”
I was nineteen. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to watch out for. When Vic ran out to the car and his father pulled me closer, against his body, his hand cupping the back of my head, I didn’t know what not to do. I was in love and out of my element and I didn’t have the strength to know that I had a voice and a mind and I could use both in whatever way I wanted. I should have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. He kissed me like I didn’t have a choice, like I was his to sample and I stood there and let it happen.
I wish I could say I was the reason we stopped. But I didn’t even do that. Claudia Jennison, a Hampton socialite with a mouth as big as her breasts, she walked in and he pushed me away, a laugh in his smirk, his eyes playfully on me. And when I turned away, Claudia’s eyes were on me. And everyone in the Hamptons knew about it by nightfall, and the story had grown, everyone convinced that I was screwing both Victor Worths.
I was stupid. And it blew up on me. But it also taught me, made me stronger. It made me the person I am today - one who can stand up for herself and push back.
“Ready?” Carter asked, the taxi coming to a stop, his hand reaching over and gripping mine.
Was I ready? To meet Carter's parents?
After Vic’s, this would be a piece of cake.
And of course I was wrong.
Up for Grabs:You know girls like me. You hate girls like me. The privileged blonde who skips her Ivy League classes when she's had too many Soho martinis. The one draped on the asshole's arm because he drives a Bugati and screws like a champ.I was that girl. I loved being that girl.Then, my door was broken in. Literally.And in that moment? Everything changed.WARNING: This sexy standalone has jaw-dropping moments, crazy sexual chemistry, and will make your cheeks hurt from smiling. Read at your own risk.
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