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An Excerpt from Knight's Emerald

Con artists should be shot and Varis Montgomery deserved a bullet.

 Swearing out loud, Astrid Radcliffe released her pent-up anger. A deep chuckle caught her off guard. Looking for the source, her gaze scanned the jagged rocks reaching like a long finger dipping into the sea.  

Balancing a jean-clad knee against a rock face, Montgomery raised his camera and pointed the lens toward her.

 She resisted the urge to flip off her grandmother’s protégé.

 A successful commercial photographer, Montgomery strived to be a painter. And thanks to her grandmother’s patronage, his work was beginning to cause a stir in the San Francisco art community.

 But the man was nothing more than a slick thief. How much money had he conned from her failing grandmother?

 Despite her weak heart Morga Lynfield Radcliffe had a sharp mind and she’d seen beyond the handsome masks of men with velvet tongues pursuing Astrid for her trust fund or those seeking a portion of the dwindling Radcliffe fortune for myriad inventions, investments and charities. So why hadn’t her grandmother looked beyond Montgomery’s chiseled face and green eyes? As Morga had often commented during their conversations, the man should have been in front of the camera not behind it.

 Tonight, Astrid would finally learn the extent of the financial damage.

Turning her back to Montgomery and the sea, Astrid looked at the L-shaped three-story house built over a hundred years ago by her enterprising ancestor. Modeled after a seventeenth-century manor house, the foundation was stone, the façade a soft gray, the lines more solid than graceful. Maintaining the place was a constant burden, but Astrid loved her home with every fiber of her being. She’d grown up playing in the central courtyard and never tired of the stunning ocean views. Her gaze focused on the dormer windows poking out of the high-pitched roof. Recently her grandmother had renovated the unused servants quarters into an apartment, the entire third floor all for Montgomery.

 Rejecting her grandmother’s attempts at matchmaking, Astrid had not only refused to date the photographer, she’d deliberately avoided him. But avoiding Montgomery didn’t prevent her from thinking about him, dreaming about him, imagining him naked and pondering the size his cock. The thought of him steel hard and deliciously long, the tip silken and burning hot came easily. Mentally, she dropped to her knees.

 “Miss Radcliffe.”

 Astrid started and turned. Her pulse leaped. Oh crap!

 Camera hanging around his neck, Montgomery stood just a few feet away.

 “Sorry.” A slight smile curved his lips. “I didn’t mean disturb your thoughts.”

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