Title: His Dark Canvas
Author: Alexandrea Weis
Genre: Dark Erotic Paranormal Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's PR
Blurb: Ella Winston is a talented chef with a problem--the slightest touch can reveal anyoneâs darkest secrets.
Hired to cook for the artist, Ren Plancharde, she struggles to keep her ability under wraps.
After accidently uncovering Renâs underground activities, the eccentric painter offers Ella a glimpse into his world of pleasure and pain. Intrigued, he decides to make Ella a part of his sinister Corde Noire Society, but his chef isnât quite ready to commit.
Absolute submission isnât all Ren wants from the stubborn woman. He has big plans for her gift, too. The only question is â¦ will Ella be willing to give in to his desires when the time comes?
The darkness within can hide a lifetime of secrets.
From New Orleans, Alexandrea Weis was raised in the motion picture industry and began writing stories at the age of eight. In college she studied nursing and went on to teach at a local university. After several years in the medical field, she decided to pick up the pen once again and began her first novel, To My Senses. Since that time she has published many novels. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning books, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable.
Alexandrea Weis is also a certified/permitted wildlife rehabber with the La. Wildlife and Fisheries. When she is not writing, she rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She is married; they live in New Orleans.
Author Links: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoralexandreaweis/Webpage: http://www.alexandreaweis.com/Twitter: https://twitter.com/alexandreaweisAmazon: http://amzn.to/21jfcqOGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1211671.Alexandrea_WeisFan Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/216096988549209/?fref=nf Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexandreaweis/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/apwrncs/
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Through the haze of her apple martinis, Ella spotted someone across the wide dining room. He was different from the other patrons there to celebrate the restaurantâs two-year anniversary. With an arrogant walk, he strutted across the stone floor. Lean, muscular, and blessed with one of those bodies women would always notice, he had dark blond hair and disquieting dark green eyes. He was the kind of guy who knew he was good-looking and let everyone else know it, too. She wasnât usually attracted to that type, but this manâhis confidence intrigued her.
âYouâre Ella, Ella Winston,â he said in a voice like dark chocolate fondue: deep, and wickedly sexy.
âYeah.â She almost dropped her drink. âIâm the sous chef.â
âI know. Marcus told me.â
As his smile sank to the depths of her belly, he extended his hand, but Ella ignored it.
Donât touch him. You know what happens when you touch them.
âSo, how do you know Marcus?â Ella quickly asked, hoping to make up for her rudeness.
He laughed, looking her over. Above the din in the room, she could sense something different about his laugh. Unlike the insincere chortle of others, this manâs laugh got to her.
She was having an unusual physical reaction, something that never happened to her. When most men laughed, Ella usually ran away.
âMarcus and I share the same friends.â
âWhat friends are those?â she asked, craving another martini.
âThe wealthy kind, who like to support the arts.â He raised a green bottle of sparkling water in his hand. âIâm a painter. Marcus and I know a lot of people who like to pretend theyâre patrons and keep us gainfully employed.â
âPainter?â Ella shrugged, finding it hard to believe Marcus knew any painters. âWhat do you paint?â
âPortraits of women. Usually with very little clothing.â
Oh yeah, I need another drink. âIs that lucrative?â
âFor me it is.â
Her eyes wandered around the dining room, desperate to find a rescue. Ella needed to get away from this man before she said or did something really stupid.
âDo you like art?â he pressed.
âSome art. I think it would depend on the passion I see in a painting.â
âThe passion in a painting?â That laugh again. Her toes tingled. Not good. âYou sound like a painter, Ms. Winston.â
The martini glass in her hand suddenly weighed a ton. âIsnât painting a passion for an artist, like cooking is a passion for a chef? Having a passion is a healthy thing. It reminds us that we have a soul.â
He nodded, seemingly approving of her drunken ramblings. âThatâs very profound and also very true. I think you have a lot of talents yet to be discovered, Ella. May I call you Ella?â
âAh, sure. Ella is fine.â Her mouth went dry. âWhat makes you think I have any talents outside of cooking?â
âI have a sense for these things.â
She tensed. Can he tell? The same thought always haunted her when she met new people. Ella fought so hard to keep her secret under control. Time to make a run for it.
âDonât let Marcus know I have other talents. Heâll probably fire me.â
She was about to depart when he stopped her. He leaned in, and she could just make out the small cleft in his pointy chin. âI promise, if you ever need a job, Iâll hire you.â
His mouth was so close she could have kissed his perfect, thin lips. Frightened by the notion, Ella backed away. âIâll hold you to that.â
âI hope you do, Ella.â
She should have done a million different things: asked his name, gotten his phone number, or stayed to flirt with him some more. Instead, Ella walked away. She figured it was one of those moments in life she would live to regret. Fortunately, Ella found the bar and drowned her disappointment in another apple martini.
Ella reasoned that was the way of it. You meet people and move on, and one day, if youâre lucky, you meet the interesting ones again.