When her dissolute husband dies after being shot in another woman’s bed, Catherine Corvedale, Countess of Bewleton, discovers that she stands to lose everything that matters to her, including her young son. She throws herself on the mercy of the one man who can save her.
The Marquess of Huntley agrees to help her, but for a price. Believing that Catherine betrayed him years ago, he will cancel her debts entirely if she will spend seven days and nights with him, willingly doing as he asks of her.
For one week, he will be her master and own her, body and soul. At the end of the week, both will go their separate ways. But first they'll have to make it through seven sensuous days...and nights...
"In this fast-moving historical erotica piece, the author delivers a spicy read. The BDSM elements incorporated into the storyline were well detailed, going beyond the typical spankings and delving into more unusual pursuits. The revelation of a secret from Catherine's past provides an excellent story arc... I found this to be the start of a sizzling new series that I look forward to reading." -- Official Review, RomanceReviews.com
"A hot and intense read which paired a hero bent on revenge with a heroine who hadn’t ever betrayed him... Seven Days is my first book by Ariel Atwell, but not my last." -- Jennifer Porter, Romance Novel News
“An addicting, sexy read…” -- Elizabeth SaFleur, author of "Lovely"
“Highly sensuous and deeply romantic. A terrific debut from an exciting new voice in historical romance.” -- Leslie McClain, Founding Editor, The Romance Reader
“Great concept. Careful Research. Super hot sex. It's a fun book to read.” -- Bestselling romance author, Treva Harte
“The pomp of Downton Abbey, the erotic adventure of Fifty Shades of Grey and the dark romantic undertones of Wuthering Heights. The next best thing to download on your Kindle.” -- Lori Marshall, co-author of "My Happy Days in Hollywood" and "Wake Me When It's Funny"
“What exactly is it that you need from me, Catherine?” His voice lingered over the syllables of her name, the deep tone striking a chord that made her tremble inside.
“Do you know why I am here?” she asked.
“Yes, I do, actually,” he said.
“Will you help me?” she asked steadily. By the look in his eye, she knew that he understood it all. Every bit of it. And that whatever happened next, it would cost her. He would have his pound of flesh.
“I will help you,” he said, his cool tone giving no evidence of the burning tension that snaked between them. If he had reached out to touch her, she knew she would have shattered into pieces. “I will help you,” he repeated. “But there will be a price. You know that, don’t you?”
“What is it that you want, then?” She feared his answer.
He paused. “You.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My terms are you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, but her question was a lie. She knew. She had known from the start how it might go. From the moment the solicitor had informed her she had just thirty days following her husband’s blood-soaked death to repay the staggering debts he had left behind. And then revealed the name of her creditor.
“Seven days,” he said.
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