Elite – Elite Doms of Washington Book 1 by Elizabeth SaFleur

Elite
Elite Doms of Washington Book 1
By
Elizabeth SaFleur

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blurb-fall-cornucopia

Everyone knows Jonathan Brond
as the playboy congressman.
They don’t know he’s hiding a second life–
one he only shares with select women.

Christiana is tired of trying to stay afloat at work, at home, and with her socialite best friend. She’s desperate for something new, something different.

But she and Jonathan shouldn’t be together. They shouldn’t have ever met.

He’d be crazy to give in to his desire for her. She’d be crazy to accept his indecent offer–a proposition her best friend would kill for.

They are one step away from a scandal that could bring both their worlds down, but some temptations are too great to refuse.

Stand-alone and part of an interconnected series. Not a cliff-hanger. This book was formerly titled Lovely..

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Christiana works hard, waitressing at the Oak brings excellent tips and every once in a while she delivers room service. Her best friend Ashley, on the other hand is part of all the drama and fund-raising that goes on in Washington, often recruiting Christiana to attend with her to fight off boredom.

When Christiana literally runs into Congressman Jonathan Brond at one such event, she doesn’t realize until later that his is the voice she heard while delivering room service. A voice that had her wanting the domination the woman in that room was getting.

Unfortunately she restrains from pursuing any action on this because Ashley has set her sights on him. Ashley is a far more suitable companion for him, she has the money and the upbringing that would be required of a Congressman’s companion or wife.

Jonathan on the other hand, only has eyes for Chris at least until he discovers her age. As a thirty year old congressman he really shouldn’t be dallying with a nineteen year old.

This is a favorite scene.

Christiana’s moment of swagger dissolved three steps later, and she slowed, entering the main reception room. She realized the low to which the night’s potential had plummeted. Well, hell

Her focus snapped to a point just behind her back. She sensed him.

Christiana turned to face Congressman Brond. No more than a foot separated them. His eyes showed his self-assurance hadn’t wavered in the two minutes they were apart. Neither had her sense of being out of her element diminished. She didn’t know where to look—his radiant green eyes smiling down at her, his hair catching the light, or his broad shoulders.

He took her elbow before she had a chance to choose.

“Shall we?” He pulled her toward the whirling mass of color on the dance floor.

When her foot hit the parquet, the up-tempo music changed. People melted into one another, stilling to a slower beat. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him with an unyielding strength. She’d been unmistakably seized.

They started off slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.

The band played a bluesy number. It wasn’t an easy rhythm, but he had no trouble finding it. He turned sharply, and her pearl necklace swung out.

“You can dance,” he said.

She swallowed. “My father taught me.”

“Ah, yes. The gregarious Peter Snow.”

“You know my Dad?”

“Only by reputation.” His face held practiced neutrality. Not good.

The congressman twirled her through the swaying crowd. On tiptoes, she tried to stay loose for his lead. Her father could have taken lessons from this man. The congressman had woven them through the crowded floor to an almost deserted corner in seconds. His grace sent her heartbeat into a strange cadence.

“So, you are friends with the Churchills,” he said.

“Yes. Avery is my best friend.”

“I see.” He sounded pleased.

Of course. He wanted more information about Avery. But he mustn’t know Avery very well. Holding Christiana this close would only bring out her legendary temper. Of course, if she could extricate herself, Avery could move in.

“I’m sure Avery would love to dance with you,” Christiana said.

“I’d rather talk about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How about a little bit of everything? At least for now.”

Christiana couldn’t help but smile. “What would be after everything, then?”

“Oh, that’s good.” He twirled her in a tight circle. “So, you’re a model,” he said, definitively.

“No, I’m in school.” She was a little thrilled he would think such a thing after the long day she’d had.

“Well, you’re quite lovely, Christiana.”

She flushed more at the stunning richness of his voice than the compliment. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” He swung her in a big arc, and her skirt swirled out. His warm breath ran through her hair.

Christiana inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. It reminded her of an exclusive men’s store, with hints of linen, wool and a trace of leather.

“How do you find the event?” His voice broke her trance.

“Oh, good, I guess. It’s an important event.” There. That’s something Avery would say.

“The cause, yes. But the party seems a little over-the-top, don’t you think?” He winked.

Her shoulders dropped a little under his warmth. He honestly seemed interested. Well, he is a politician. Yet despite his obvious charm, he seemed so normal—but not ordinary.

She exhaled heavily. “To be honest, I never understood why they spend so much money just to raise money. Why not just funnel it all to the charity?”

He laughed. “You should run for office.”

Christiana dipped her eyes to his lapel. She hoped the scar on her forehead wasn’t at his eye level. She tried to concentrate on the music, but the vibrations between her legs threatened to pull her off rhythm. As if reading her mind, he pulled her closer. Her nipples hardened as the bodice of her dress grazed his suit jacket. She should say something, make polite conversation. She could have used the distraction herself.

“Christiana.”

She peeked up at him under her lashes.

His face held a resolve, like a man used to wielding power. “Are you here alone?”

“Sort of.”

He smiled. “Have someone on standby?”

“No, sir. Nothing like that.”

“A date, then?”

She shook her head.

“Then I’m glad you agreed to dance with me, Christiana.”

Had she agreed? It didn’t matter. Christiana followed his steps . . . and his scent. Her arm lay heavy against his chest as his height allowed only her hand to reach his shoulder. Underneath his tuxedo, his muscles felt tight and hard. His strong thighs brushed hers. God, what he must look like under that suit.

He twirled her in a double spin that made her gasp. He smiled down at her, bemused. The music had changed to a Frank Sinatra song. He didn’t let her go. Don’t let me go. Not yet.

A steady craving warred with her nerves—and her good sense. One more dance, she told herself. Then you’ll leave.

His hand moved farther down her back, and a strange desire spiked, winning winning the battle. She wanted him to drop his hand lower, cup the curve of her bottom and draw her closer. Without thinking, she leaned into his body.

He loosened his hold as if he’d heard her inappropriate thoughts and meant to rectify the situation.
SaFleur, Elizabeth. Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1) (pp. 24-28). Elizabeth SaFleur LLC. Kindle Edition.

A very interesting relationship develops behind the scenes of the normal Washington kerfuffle. Secrets and half truths, become a daily part of Chris’ life.

Unexpected twists, kindle melting heat and a very interesting outcome.

5 Contented Purrs for Elizabeth!

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  Elizabeth SaFleur

Writing romance that dares to “go there” is the most fun I’ve ever had. (Well, except for the research.)

I write, tweet and post under my pseudonym, Elizabeth SaFleur, since my clients might be (WOULD BE) a little shocked at how their counselor spends her free time (the delicate flowers). Then again, perhaps they fear they provide inspiration. (I’ll never tell.)

Today, I share a beautiful view of the Blue Ridge Mountains with my husband and furry child, a Westie – who is the real Dom in the family. We do what he says.

In my free time, you can find me dancing as part of a burlesque and aerial arts dance troupe and visiting wineries and hiking trails with friends. If our house ever caught fire, I’d grab my dog, laptop and five foot-long, regulation, Sally Rand-inspired, ostrich feather fans — in that order. (Hubby knows the way out.) Word to the wise: It’s never too late to start playing with feather boas and fans.

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