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    At His Mercy
    At His Mercy
    At His Mercy
    Ebook61 pages49 minutes

    At His Mercy

    By Alison Kent

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    About this ebook

    When car trouble sends Lise Kimball into the sweaty, sultry Mississippi south, she wants nothing more than a new tire and a place to spend the night before continuing her trip to New Orleans.

    What she doesn’t want is to find herself stranded in the company of Donovan True, a man as controlling as the one who drove her from Atlanta.

    Except Donovan takes charge in ways Lise has never known. Being at his mercy might be exactly what she’s been looking for.



    "I give AT HIS MERCY my highest recommendation." - Laurie's Laudanum

    "AT HIS MERCY is a steamy arousing read..." - Joyfully Reviewed

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Publishing
    Release dateFeb 10, 2020
    ISBN9781094402970
    Author

    Alison Kent

    Alison Kent was a born reader, but it wasn't until she reached 30 that she knew she wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Five years later, she made her first sale. Two years after that, she accepted an offer issued by the senior editor of Harlequin Temptation live on the 'Isn't It Romantic?' episode of CBS's 48 Hours. The resulting book, Call Me, was a Romantic Times finalist for Best First Series Book.

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    • 3/5
      I'm only writing this review in response to the lady below me. Ma'am, you're reading a smut novel and you're upset about taking the lords name in vain? LOL.

      22 people found this helpful

    • 1/5
      No need for such language!!!!!
      It was just starting to get good then you put the Lord's name in vain. ....
      ....

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    Book preview

    At His Mercy - Alison Kent

    I give AT HIS MERCY my highest recommendation.

    ~Laurie’s Laudanum

    AT HIS MERCY is a steamy arousing read...

    ~Joyfully Reviewed

    AT HIS MERCY

    Copyright © 2011 by Alison Kent

    All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

    Interior designed and formatted by

    www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

    No matter how many times Lise Kimball told herself the dread in her stomach was nothing, the pressure increased exponentially with every mile she drove. Her life was packed, tossed, and squeezed into her SUV, and there was no way around it.

    Her right rear tire was going flat.

    For the last half hour, her steering wheel had been pulling and the loud thumping noise whirring louder. Finally, she’d accepted the inevitable and put on her flashers, hoping to avoid a rear-end collision while creeping along the break-down lane.

    She knew the mechanics of changing a tire, but since this would be her first time and she was going to have to unload a lot of boxes to get to her spare, she had her fingers crossed the tire would hold until she reached the highway exit ahead.

    The fact that the night was dark as burned oil and the oasis ahead well-lighted had her encouraging the steel belted radial to hang in there. And while she was at it, she promised any greater power listening that she would never again trust her vehicle’s maintenance—or any part of her life—to someone who twisted that trust to suit his needs.

    Wouldn’t her soon-to-be-ex enjoy seeing her battling a car jack and a tire iron?

    She wondered how Mark had reacted when the divorce papers had been served at his law office this morning. And then she laughed, the sound tinged with the hysteria she’d been trying to keep at bay.

    She didn’t need to wonder. She knew, and pictured him so clearly her stomach clutched harder, nearly making her sick.

    The tic in his jaw as he ground it. The strain around his mouth as he pressed his lips tight. The set of his shoulders as he held himself in check. Save for the shows of emotion presented to the juries deciding his clients’ fates, Mark Kimball’s public persona was ice.

    No, he’d strike out later. At the racquetball court. On the freeway between his firm’s downtown Atlanta location and their suburban home. At her. Never with his fists, of course, but with words.

    And he was so, so good with words. As good as he was with silences. As good as he was with his body which he shared only when in his best interest to do so.

    Yeah. She’d had enough. Or rather, she hadn’t had enough.

    It had been weeks, months since the man who’d sworn ten years ago to cherish her until death did them part had visited her bed. Last she’d looked, cherishing went a lot further than seeing to her material needs and whims as he pleased.

    A master manipulator, Mark Kimball.

    But that was all behind her. In front of her stretched the rest of her life and, hallelujah, the beautiful highway exit ramp. She limped down its length, following the blacktop to the stop sign and the beacon of lights which had beckoned her.

    The lights turned out to be big square halogens mounted on tall pines ringing the parking lot of a restaurant and bar. Across the intersection, the exit ramp

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