White Knight an all-new romantic standalone from New York Times bestselling author CD Reiss is available NOW!
Catherine’s long-lost love is found.
Catherine Barrington is a rich girl. Chris Cartwright is a poor boy.
He left her to make something of himself. A man she could be proud of. A man she could bring home to her parents. A man she could marry.
On the trading floor he became the man he knew he could be. Now, it’s time to return.
She didn’t care about his money, but he didn’t believe her. Soon after he left, all the money was gone.
Her life is hell.
Now he’s back, and he’s different. Pristine. Gorgeous. Rich.
Money was never the barrier, until now.
White Knight is a standalone in the same world as King of Code, with its own beginning, middle, and end. You don’t need to read anything else to read White Knight.
I crossed the train tracks, looking both ways as if the freight ran on a thoroughfare. It was a few steps to the rows of mobile homes that defined that side of Barrington.
The playground was in a little clearing just west of the center of the trailers. My fingertips were cold, but the rest of my body thrummed and pulsed so hard that I made my own heat. I told myself I didn’t know what to expect from this meeting, but if I didn’t know what to expect, I knew what to hope, and they were pretty much the same thing.
“Catherine!” Chris wasn’t loud, but the excitement in his voice made him sound as if he were shouting.
“Chris?” I spun around, looking for him in the darkness.
And on a three-quarter turn, he crashed into me, all lips and hands, digging his fingertips into the muscles of my back as he pulled me close. I tasted the minty toothpaste in his mouth and thought he brushed his teeth for me. He kissed me as if he would never kiss me again. He kissed me as if this was the last kiss he would ever have in his life. As if he wanted to eat me alive. I’d given over my freedom and my choice to this thing with him, to this moment, to this stupid set of choices that would ruin me forever. As surely as the sun would rise, I was the designer of my own destruction.
I wanted to be destroyed by that kiss.
When Chris took my hand, I imagined I could feel the blood pulsing through the veins, the cells in his skin. I imagined that when my nerve endings vibrated at his touch, they connected to his somehow.
Everything felt new. I was discovering that my body had routes between one place and another that I never knew existed. I never knew that when a man touched my hand or kissed my nipples, I could feel it between my legs.
There was a click behind the tree line, and he stopped kissing me with a jerk. We froze long enough for him to smile.
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I found myself rooting for Catherine and Chris from even before I started reading the book. This is the 3rd book in the series, but can definitely be read as a standalone. In fact, it might be better to have not read the other books, as she seemed to veer a little off track, in my mind, we the time line and the other characters. This is the story of Catherine and Chris reconnecting 13 years after he left to make something of himself to be worthy of her.
I loved that they came back to each, but not without obstacles. I hate when things are too neat and convenient. This was not an easy get back together. I really liked the angst of them working through their issues together. There were a few twists and turns that kept the book interesting.
It was a very short book and it felt like it. She could have added some additional scenes with the towns folk and maybe even more with Chris and his boss, Brian. I typically really like her books, but this felt a little rushed to me.
About the Author
CD Reiss is a New York Times bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up she’s at the well hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere but it did give her a big enough ego to write novels.
She’s frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn’t ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.
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