Blurb

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****being revised****


~*~ blurb ~*~

After spending 5 years in self-imposed exile, the last thing Hazel George was expecting was finding herself thrown head-over-heels into the life she left behind; and all for the sake of the people she was supposed to be proud to call family.

After dedicating his life to his career at Steel Industries, the last thing Van goth Steel was expecting was finding himself in a marriage of convenience; and all for the sake of protecting the shares he had already worked so hard for.

Hazel is her own woman, an artist and a recluse with severe complex towards anything concerning 'humans'. Van goth is a businessman, with a social life a mile wide. Hazel and Van goth share no common ground; except, maybe, controlling fathers. They are thrown together in an arranged marriage with little less than instant hate. But when sparks of attraction fly, they find themselves anchored together by the evidence of a night filled with longing.


*~**~* exert *~**~*


Van cleared his throat from the corner of the room, bringing everyone's attention to him in a snap. Her eyes widen in the slightest fraction as she stared at a man fit for a magazine shoot. Even if she was successfully celibate for five years, she was still a woman and she felt like any other woman would in the direct attention of possibly the hottest male she'd ever laid eyes on.

"This, my dear is Van Steel, your husband-to-be."

So he's the one, huh, Hazel thought to herself. She quickly gave him an impassive once over, forming a stereotypical opinion of him. He was hot, simply put, and by the way the way he had the first two buttons of his white dress shirt causally popped open at the top, with the sleeves rolled up, and how perfectly the black dress pants fit his long legs, and the evidence of him running his hands through his neatly trimmed black hair, she knew that he knew that he was hot. His piercing dark eyes gobbled her up with reluctant admiration even as he gave her an icy glare that she knew rivaled the one she had aimed at him.

Hazel looked away, not because she was intimidated but because she was dismissing his presence. He, like her, was a toy in their fathers' game. And though he was being used just as she was, Hazel felt no affinity for him. If anything, she resented him more for being so spineless; like her.

Van felt his blood boil. Her message was loud and clear; she thought he was of no importance. As he had rightly guessed, she was a spoiled brat. A beautiful spoilt brat.

And she was very beautiful indeed. Even more so than the pictures he had seen. Her face was curved sweetly and her red hair, even though tied up above her head, was still framing her face in little frizzy curls that had escaped her control. The image she presented was contrasting and made his head spin in the most wonderful way.


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