Read with: Kindle Paperwhite
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Hero: Blake MacLeod
Heroine: Eleanor Lang
Date of Publication: August 29, 2006
Started On: May 19, 2021
Finished On: May 24, 2021
Mistress for a Weekend by Susan Napier is one of those few books that I have left over from the author’s backlist of books which I have not read previously. Ms. Napier is a dying breed when it comes to romance authors. Even with books that did not turn out to be high in terms of rating, I have enjoyed the journey the main protagonists take towards their happily ever after, and I feel sad knowing that Ms. Napier stopped writing a couple of years ago for whichever reasons.
25 year old Eleanor Lang (Nora) is on the hunt for the most dangerous man in the room that she can find. Betrayed by the man that she has been with for the past five years, having been labeled as a bore, someone who lacks initiative in the bed and out of it, Nora is determined to forget all of that and move on as she sets eyes on 33 year old Blake MacLeod.
Blake is a business tycoon, who normally prefers sophisticated women that might challenge him in bed, but never out of it. That is how he prefers it, and it shocks him when his body reacts in a most primitive fashion when it comes to the woman who makes eye contact with him in a way that speaks volumes.
Needless to say, the one night stand is more than either Nora or Blake bargained for, a night that ends in a misunderstanding which makes Blake weary of all that is Nora and what she presents. Keeping Nora at his side until she gives up the information that he cannot possibly risk being leaked out, tests his self-control to its very limits, given how much he desires to possess Nora at all levels.
Blake was a delicious hero who unleashes his sexual magnetism in a way that leaves, not just Nora, wanting. I loved Blake and all that he was in the story. One might think that he would be a typical brooding alpha, but he is charming and also ruthless on a level that just adds to his appeal. Finding out his roots and where he comes from just adds to his appeal.
With Ms. Napier’s books, you never know what you will get. That is one of the main reasons why I remain a steadfast fan of her books even now. What may start out as a conventional romance is never just that. Ms. Napier always manages to advocate for equal rights, shedding light on the sexism of the workplace and more, without sounding preachy about it. That is where a lot of authors fail today – as if the author is up on a podium preaching to the lesser intellects on what is right and wrong.
Recommended for those who love a good category romance. Ms. Napier’s books is a wonderful place to indulge in!
Final Verdict: Susan Napier always manages to surprise readers with delicious twists and turns in her stories and Mistress for a Weekend is no exception to that rule!
Instead of impatiently snapping at her to pull herself together, as Ryan had done whenever she had revealed her weakness, he firmed his grip, his voice quiet, slow and forceful. ‘Yes, you can. Focus on me. Concentrate. Breathe deeply and think of something else, something you want more than anything—’
‘Like what?’ she choked despairingly, her slender body beginning to ripple with chills, the blood draining from her extremities to warm her icy core.
His eyes fell to her mouth and blazed with a fierce determination. ‘Like this…’
He bent his head, blotting out the world, his mouth crushing down on her cold lips, sealing in her ragged breath, invading her with his masculine heat and iron will sheathed in a wet velvet tongue.
She squirmed to get closer, her chills turned to a raging fever, burning away her inhibitions, her awareness of time and place. She groaned as she felt him subtly pull back from the kiss, but it was only to allow her to free her arms. Her evening bag plopped unnoticed on top of her umbrella as her hands slid eagerly up under the back of his jacket, fingers clawing at the soft cotton of his shirt, her short-trimmed nails biting into his hot skin through the thin fabric.
His muscles tensed and he growled a warning deep in his throat, the sound of a hungry male predator staking claim over his captive prey.
His expression was a dark mask of lustful intent, the skin drawn tight across his bones emphasising the intimidating harshness of his face. His eyes burned in their deep sockets, the coal-black shadow on his pugnacious jaw making him look uncompromisingly tough, his slashing widow’s peak adding a faintly satanic air to his smouldering regard. He looked primed and ready to take her, body and soul.
Nora took an uncertain step back. His nostrils flared as if he scented her sudden doubt, and then he was reaching for her, gathering her up and driving her back until her legs bumped against the side of the desk. In the same forceful motion his mouth was swooping down on hers, drinking in her shocked gasp as she threw up her hands and they came into contact with the hot skin of his chest, her fingers automatically curling into the soft thicket of dark hair, hanging on for dear life as he deepened his plundering kiss.
‘Wait—’ she panted, jerking violently as she felt the brush of his fingers against the thin fabric which hid the creamy heart of her desire, almost fainting at the gush of pleasure released by the brief contact.
‘I can’t—’ His prickly jaw rasped across her skin, creating a stinging trail of sweet pain as he ate his way down to her throbbing nipple. He suckled hotly, pushing up his knee until she was astride his leg. ‘I need this too much…and so do you,’ he growled roughly. She felt his arm tighten around her waist, dragging her weight down against his contracting muscles, setting up a friction that turned the delicious pressure between her legs into an electrifying thrill. ‘Come on, baby—ride me,’ he invited hoarsely, rocking her against his powerful thigh until she adopted his urgent rhythm.
She smiled weakly. Even if she had gained his sympathy, his trust was obviously not so easily obtained.
‘Not that I can think of. I just thought—well—you might feel that I’d insulted your manhood…uh, the frail male ego and all that—’
He stood, towering over her. ‘My ego is very healthy, thank you…particularly after last night. There’s nothing more flattering for a man than to watch a woman come helplessly apart in his arms,’ he mused in that dark and dangerous drawl. ‘So violently aroused that she melts all over his fingers like sweet hot honey, and moans his name like a sexy mantra as she shudders to her first climax….’
Nora’s lips parted, but not a breath of sound trickled out of her shocked mouth, a wave of heat chasing away her pallor.
‘Yes, Nora?’ He leaned over her again, his mouth hot on the straining cords of her neck, the sharp prickle of his dark-blooming beard an exciting contrast to his warm wet tongue, his playful humour evaporating as his blind touch worked up under the band of elastic at the top of her thigh to slide against her creamy velvet centre. ‘Oh, yes, you want me quite badly, don’t you, Sparrow?’
She gave an incoherent choked cry that mingled with his hoarse sound of pleasure as he felt the slickness of her desire coat his fingers and explored the hot swollen folds of her womanhood where they curled protectively over the hidden kernel that had ripened into secret prominence.
He gave a clotted moan of pleasure as her fingers fluttered curiously down to find the lightly lubricated tip, trapped against his thigh by the cut of his jeans, measuring his full length as more than the span of her hand. His grip on her wrist tightened involuntarily, his hips thrusting to increase the friction of her palm, and he groaned.
‘That’s right, Sparrow…Now take me out,’ he begged roughly, and it was Blake, the expert, who was fumbling as he guided her to free his swollen flesh from the prison of denim and sheath him in the snug new covering.