Title: Fragments of Ash
(Inspired by “Cinderella”)
Collection: A Modern Fairytale
Author: Katy Regnery
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 1, 2018
Blurb
From New York Times bestselling author Katy
Regnery comes a dark and twisted retelling of the beloved fairytale,
Cinderella!
My name
is Ashley Ellis…
I was
thirteen years old when my mother – retired supermodel, Tig – married Mosier
Răumann, who was twice her age and the head of the Răumann crime family.
When I
turned eighteen, my mother mysteriously died. Only then did I discover the dark
plans my stepfather had in store for me all along; the debauched “work” he
expected me to do.
With the
help of my godfather, Gus, I have escaped from Mosier’s clutches, but his twin
sons and henchmen have been tasked with hunting me down. And they will stop at
nothing to return my virgin body to their father
…dead or
alive.
**
Contemporary Romance. Due to profanity and very strong sexual content, this
book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.**♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥Fragments of Ash is part of the ~a modern fairytale~ collection:
contemporary, standalone romances inspired by beloved fairy tales.
The Vixen
and the Vet (Beauty & the Beast) – available now
Never Let
You Go (Hansel & Gretel) – available now
Ginger’s
Heart (Little Red Riding Hood) – available now
Dark Sexy
Knight (Camelot) – available now
Don’t Speak
(The Little Mermaid) – available now
Sheer
Heaven (Rapunzel) – available now
Fragments
of Ash (Cinderella) – available now
Swan Song
(The Ugly Duckling) – coming soon
Purchase Links
Excerpt
All rights reserved. Used with permission.
Instead of going inside, I walk around the house, to the backyard, to see if I can help bring in any dirty dishes, but the picnic table is empty. All traces of our dinner party have already been cleaned up by the Ducharmes siblings.
I look up at the midnight sky, at the dozens and dozens of stars, and I wonder if Gus is right. What he says feels right, but I feel very young and very small as I stare up at the universe. It’s not wrong to give yourself over to loving if the chance arises.
“We get amazing night skies up here.”
I look over my shoulder and find Julian, tall, barefoot, and beautiful, walking toward me.
“Yes, you do,” I answer, giving him a shy and tentative smile before I turn my attention back upward.
My skin prickles with awareness. My lips tingle, remembering the insistent pressure of his. And elsewhere in my body, I clench hard, willing those deep-set tremors not to start up again right now. I want to believe what Gus has told me—that liking and wanting a man isn’t wrong—but it’s new to me, and I need a little time to reconcile my desire and conscience together.
“When I lived in DC, it was what I missed the most, besides Noelle. More than the cheese. More than the beer. More than the skiing.” He stops, standing beside me, staring up at the firmament. “I missed Vermont’s night skies. And the millions of stars.”
“I can see why,” I say. “When I lived in LA, I never saw stars.” I giggle. “I mean, I saw the people kind, but not the sky kind.”
“Who’s the most famous person you ever met?”
“Hmm. Maybe . . . Gigi Hadid . . . or Bella? Hmm . . . Or Cara Delevingne? Kate Moss mentored my m—Tig for a while, um, and she knew Gisele, of course. Also—”
“Wait a second! Gisele? Did you ever meet Tom Brady?” he asks, his voice eager.
“Let me guess.” I glance at his face. “Patriots fan?”
“The biggest.”
“Tig went to their wedding, but I never met him. Sorry,” I say, giggling as he lays a hand over his heart and pretends to cry. “Speaking of the rich and famous, Noelle tells me you met the vice president while you worked in Washington.”
“She did?” His teasing expression disappears quickly as he straightens, dropping his hand. “Uh, yeah. Long time ago.”
“Not so long,” I say.
“Yeah, well . . . I guess it just feels like a while ago.” I wait for him to say more, hoping to learn why he left Washington so abruptly, but he stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “I’m tired. You must be exhausted.”
“At school I was on the dining hall rotation, which meant cooking for one hundred souls regularly. Tonight was a breeze.”
“Your soup was amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“The steak too.”
“Thank you again.”
“And the tart.”
“That was your sister. Let her know you thought so.”
“And the kiss.”
“Thank—” I’m grinning at him, but my eyes widen at his unexpected compliment, and I immediately look back up at the sky. It’s dark out so he can’t see my blush.
His chuckle is soft and low beside
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