Subject X by Emma G Hunter
Published: February 16, 2016
Published by: Emma Hunter
Recent Harvard graduate Charlotte Kane tends to be the most practical person in the room. A self-proclaimed nerd and former tomboy, Charlotte still isn't used to the world's reaction to her since she traded in her sweatpants and hoodies for skinny jeans and sundresses. And she's just begun to settle into her new job as a research assistant at a prestigious biotech powerhouse, Philadelphia's Genesis Life Systems, when Owen Becker walks into the subject waiting room.
Owen Becker is pure, distilled masculinity. He's also been the subject of a shadowy Genesis research study for twenty-seven years—a classified one now run solely by Charlotte's prickly and secretive boss. With just one glance at Charlotte Kane, Owen knows he has to have her. But he fears that the secret behind his study might be too much for the new researcher to understand—and far too dangerous for her or anyone else to know about.
When a chance accident on their second date reveals something unbelievable about Owen Becker, Charlotte's world is turned entirely upside-down. As she struggles to reconcile what she's learned about her irresistible new boyfriend with everything she knows to be true about science and the world she lives in, her lingering dislike of her new boss shifts into something more like suspicion. Determining that he's up to something dark—and that Owen is at the center of that something—Charlotte is forced to test the limits of what she's willing to do for love and lust.
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1rgagGp
It’s 2:57 p.m., and I have eight subjects left—one every fifteen minutes until five o’clock, at which point I’ll need to spend an hour or so picking up and filing. Three more hours; I can handle that. I look at the calendar—Jennifer Champlain should be here in the next few minutes. If I can get her out by 3:06, I tell myself, I’m going to use the extra nine minutes to run downstairs and treat myself to a latte. I hear the door to the reception room open and look up from the computer. That is not Jennifer Champlain.
Walking toward me is pure, distilled masculinity.
My breath hitches in my throat as my eyes drift over the figure in front of me. A crisp navy suit, cut close and impeccably tailored, drapes elegantly over broad shoulders and hangs from slim hips. The unbuttoned neck of a white dress shirt exposes just a bit of collarbone, two strong slashes across what I can tell is an exquisitely muscled chest. My eyes snag on that little divot between them at the base of his neck, and something small and frantic flutters inside me as a fleeting image of my own tongue dipping into that dent flickers through my mind. I’m near shocked at the direction of my thoughts—all of this and I haven’t even made my way to his face, so mesmerized am I by his all-but-tangible virility.
I almost wince as I allow my eyes up to his face. He is absolutely devastating. I’m a sucker for bone structure, and his is like none I’ve ever seen. High cheekbones are just a touch wider than his heavy jaw, both so strong I wouldn’t be surprised if they were reinforced with steel. He doesn’t quite have dimples, just a bit of hollowness to his cheeks that only serves to emphasize the flawless wide line of his mouth. His nose is ruler straight but not too narrow or sharp; just a trace of cleft mars the tip.
Everything about his face is strong and purposeful—he’s been drawn with a Sharpie and everyone else with a pencil. My heart beats in my ears.
But it’s when his ice-blue gaze fixes on mine that the rest of my field of vision darkens and blurs, like I’ve dialed the brightness on my laptop all the way down in full sunlight. For a second there’s something distant, maybe even sad in his deep-set, almost aqua eyes. Then he blinks, and when his eyes reopen, something is different. They’re somehow softer, the glimpse of melancholy suddenly evaporated. And though he hasn’t moved, I swear the space between us is shrinking. With my feet planted firmly on the ground, I’m still floating toward him, unable to keep a comfortable distance between us.
I’m not usually one to get tongue-tied around good-looking men; I think an entire childhood playing ball and riding bikes with the boys has left me pretty unintimidated by the opposite sex. But as this man stares me down across the desk, the thought does cross my mind that I may not be able to speak at all. I use every ounce of willpower in my being to tear my eyes from his and look down at the computer in a vain attempt to distract myself. I check the next slot in the calendar, thinking maybe he’s just early, but it’s another woman due at 3:15. I look back up.
“Warm one out there today, huh?” he says to me, his voice low and resonant with just a hint of roughness. It’s the kind of voice that could make a mediocre-looking man hot, and on this specimen, it’s nearly ridiculous and hits me like a fist to the gut.
Meet Emma Hunter~
Emma Hunter lives with her family in Philadelphia. With a career in finance and a degree in mechanical engineering, she has taken the only logical next step and begun writing novels. Outside of reading and writing, Emma’s main hobbies revolve around food—she’s been known to spend hours at a clip in the kitchen, will drive many miles out of her way for an exceptional meal, and rarely shows up to a holiday gathering without way too many desserts. Subject X is her first novel.
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