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.

Approximately 12,000 words

“Alison Kent is an artist when it comes to putting words on paper and she never fails to engage her readers. I give AT HIS MERCY my highest recommendation.” ~ Laurie Damron, Laurie’s Laudanum

“At His Mercy is a steamy arousing read that will leave you searching for your own Donovan True. Lise and Donovan have explosive chemistry that sets the pages on fire! Donovan arrives at exactly the right time for Lise. Her ex has left her feeling a bit less than sexy and Donovan shows her exactly how irresistible she is. My only complaint with At His Mercy is that there wasn’t enough! I want more of Alison Kent’s fabulous characters and her sinfully sexy writing! You will be ready to be At His Mercy by the end of this sizzling romance.” ~ Miranda, Joyfully Reviewed

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Excerpt …

His eyes glittered darkly. His hand on her backside burned. His desire rose to surround her, a column of palpable lust and heat, consuming. She didn’t know him. She didn’t care.

Tomorrow she’d be gone.

Tonight, in this moment, only one thing existed. “Stay.”

He lowered his hand, cupped her, his fingers close to the crevice separating her cheeks. “You draw the line. I’ll step back.”

Her heart in her throat, she nodded and once again begged him near, swaying, the music soft but urgent. Donovan. Nova. He smelled of a day’s work, the skin of his neck damp, and salty when she tasted him, not a kiss but with the touch of her tongue.

A sound throttled low in his chest. She felt it, heard it. Beneath her silk tank, her nipples tightened, and the sound came again, involuntarily, making them painfully taut.

He wanted her, and in that most basic of ways. No manipulation. No games. His body. Her body. Oh, how she’d missed this honesty. Sex for pleasure, not offered as a reward, or withheld as punishment.

She slipped her leg between his, pressed her hip to his groin and felt the thickness of him.

He said nothing, but nuzzled his face to hers, his jaw hard, the stubble of his beard a scraping reminder of their differences and shooting sparks from her nape to the base of her spine.

She sighed.

“A good sound, I hope?” His voice rumbled, intense and deep.

She thought she might come from no more than this. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do,” he said, the press of his erection to her hip reminding her.

“Yeah.” Her skin was on fire. “It’s that kind of good.”

“It can get a whole lot better.”

She wanted better. She wanted more. She wanted everything. He was in her head already, tempting her, teasing her, and her panties were damp with the wait.