A special COVER REVEAL is coming your way!
Title: Playing House by Christa Simpson
Publisher: Black Widow Publishing
Expected Release: March 4, 2017
Genre: Dark Erotic Thriller (18+)
If I can’t be happy, no one can.
My name is Clarisse Blackwell. With nothing left to lose, I’m a dangerous woman. There’s a reason they call me the Black Widow. My boyfriend died trying to kill me, and my husband died trying to save my life.
Destroyed by grief, and consumed by an urge to bring revenge so passionately, darkness devours my soul. A master of persuasion, I trick and tease, reducing a grown man to trembling knees to make him see what it’s like to be me. He’ll learn the hard way, as you will, that my sweet revenge only feeds the dark thrill of causing others pain.
Lying. Cheating. Stealing. It’s what I do. You think you know me? You don’t, and neither does the man whose life mustn’t be worth living anymore. Our relationship is like an explosion set to detonate on my command. He thinks he knows me. His mistake. He thinks he’s different. He doesn’t believe I’m cursed. I’ll make him believe.
Lives will end, minds will be blown, and one thing is for certain:
the Black Widow will strike again.
Chapter One:
Ignorance truly is bliss. My car pulls away from the curb, my tousled hair dancing in the wind as if our autumn is unseasonably warm. You can’t believe everything you see. In all honesty, it’s not that warm. I have a chill running through my body that I can’t escape. I probably would have closed up my car window a long time ago, if I could have, but it’s stuck halfway down. I’m just lucky the raincloud over there is keeping its distance. Lucky. Hah! I’m lucky like that man up ahead.
Look at his tidy pile of leaves. He probably spent his entire morning raking those things into a heap next to the curb and is proud of himself for beating the rain. I smirk at the rotund, older man in his front yard. He hasn’t even had enough time to put away his rake. Instead, he stands there proudly, leaning against the handle and scratching his overfed belly. I can’t resist. Someone has handed this opportunity to me, and I simply can’t pass it up.
My foot presses deeper into the accelerator, thrusting my small car forward. I glare at the old man from beneath dark lashes. His eyes immediately connect with mine, begging me to rethink what I’m about to do. That only encourages me further. I veer toward the pile, blasting through the leaves and cheering with a crazed depth to my voice.
“Woooooo!”
Christa Simpson 