Home | Site
National Bestselling Author Beth Kery
Books What's Next? About Beth Blog Guestbook Contact
Erotic Romance Sensual Romance Silhouette Special Edition
Week 1: Available 9-16-14 Week 2: Available 9-23-14 Week 3: Available 9-30-14 Week 4: Available 10-7-14 Week 5: Available 10-14-14 Week 6: Available 10-21-14 Week 7: Available 10-28-14 Week 8: Available 11-4-14

The Affair - Complete Edition

The Affair
The Complete Novel

Available for the first time as a complete novel—the serial from the New York Times bestselling author that explores the dynamics of power and sex between two people who set the rules of desire…only to shatter them.

When unconventional hospice nurse Emma Shore secured a new position at The Breakers, the sprawling mansion of enigmatic and dangerously handsome racecar billionaire Michael Montand, she had no idea how soon she’d be drawn into his darker sexual games—or that it would be her own fantasies that would hold her captive.

Michael knew he shouldn’t have engaged such an innocent woman to share in his desires. But strong sexual appetites and selfishness run in his blood.

From Michael’s luxurious lakeside home to the sun-drenched, sensual shores of the French Riviera, Emma submits again and again to his intoxicating power. But she knows there is only one way to protect her heart.

The affair will continue but only on her conditions: only she can end it, and when it’s over, they’ll part and never speak again of the things they dared to do behind locked doors.

An RT Book Review Top Pick!

The Affair UK Cover

Read an Excerpt

“Oh my God, you startled me,” Emma said to Mrs.Shaw, who stood in the entryway to the suite, unmoving.

“I’ve come to get you. Mr. Montand would like a word,” she said unsmilingly.

Her mouth fell open. “With . . . with me? Mr. Montand? Why?”

“He didn’t tell me his reasons, but I assume it’s about your work here. He’s very particular in regard to his stepmother’s care,” Mrs. S haw said with a tiny smug smile.

“I see,” Emma said, even though she didn’t. To her knowledge, Montand had never spoken to any of the nursing staff individually. His expectations had been discussed with Dr. Claridge, who was the hospice doctor, and Monica Ring, the nurse supervisor. A flicker of anxiety went through her. What if this request was somehow associated with the armoire incident? Was she about to be called out or accused? Her heart started to beat uncomfortably in her chest.
There was only one way to find out.

“Okay. I’m ready,” she said briskly, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder.

She followed a silent Mrs. Shaw down the hushed staircase, past the lavish workout facility and indoor pool, her heartbeat pounding louder in her ears with every step. Mrs. Shaw left the staircase behind on the next level. She led Emma into the luxurious living room she’d seen last night, the lush ivory carpeting hushing their footsteps. Emma could almost feel the housekeeper’s disapproval and dislike emanating from her thin, stiff figure.

Mrs. Shaw paused before a door and swung it open.“Ms. Shore is here,” she said to someone in the room. She stepped aside and gave Emma a glance of loathing before nodding significantly toward the interior.

Her heart now lodged at the base of her throat, Emma stepped past Mrs. Shaw into the interior of the room. She had a brief, but vivid impression of a stunning dining room consisting almost entirely of black, white, and crystal. A huge white modernist china cabinet and wet bar structure dominated the wall closest to her. The long, grand dining room table was made of African blackwood and was surrounded by more than a dozen handsome blackwood and white-upholstered chairs. Two large crystal chandeliers hung above the table. The far wall consisted of warm brick in beige and reddish tones, offsetting the cool luxury and sleek lines of the room. On the brick wall hung a large painting that she recognized in a dazed sort of way was a modernist depiction of an engine.

She heard the door shut and glanced over her shoulder. Mrs. Shaw was gone.Emma turned back to the single inhabitant of the room.

He sat at the head of the table turned toward the glass wall that faced Lake Michigan. For a few seconds, she just stood there, speechless. He matched the room in almost every way. He wore a black tuxedo with careless elegance. His brown hair was not cut short, necessarily, but it wasn’t long, either. A woman could easily fill a hand with the glory of it. It was thick and wavy and had been combed back from his face. A dark, very short goatee seemed to highlight a sensual mouth. He was all precision lines and bold masculinity: an angular jaw, broad shoulders, handsome Grecian nose. The only way he didn’t match the immaculate, stunning room was the way his tie was loosened and the top collar of his white dress shirt unbuttoned at his throat.

He was even better looking than the actors hired to drive cars and drink champagne for his company commercials. Impossible.

“Well don’t just stand there,” he said, just a hint of impatience in his tone. He set down the fork he’d been holding on to a plate. Emma blinked. It hadn’t even registered immediately that he’d been eating, she’d been so captivated by the image of him.

“Come here,” he prompted when she remained frozen.

She stepped forward, a surreal feeling pervading her. As she drew nearer, she realized that his eyes were the same color of the lake on a sunny day—a startling blue-green. The lake would serve to soften and warm the cool, sharp lines of the beautiful, austere dining room during the day. This man’s eyes, however, would soften nothing. They seemed to lance straight through her.
His firm, sensual mouth quirked slightly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded quietly.

“Am I looking at you a certain way?” Emma asked, surprised and set off balance by his question. “I hadn’t realized,” she fumbled. She yanked her gaze off his compelling visage and glanced around the room, wide-eyed. “I’ve never seen a room like this. It was a little like walking into a photo from a magazine or something.” Especially with you sitting at the end of that grand table in that tux.

She looked at him when he laughed mirthlessly. “Cold and uncomfortable, you mean. I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to my architect and interior designer.”

She matched his stare. “That’s not what I meant.”

He frowned slightly but didn’t respond. Nor did he look away. “You’re Michael Montand?” she prodded in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

He nodded once and glanced at the chair nearest to him. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

“Would you mind telling me why you asked me here first?”

His eyebrows arched in mild surprise. They were a shade darker than the hair on his head and created a striking contrast to his light eyes. Clearly, she was just supposed to follow his command without comment.

“You’re taking care of my stepmother. Surely you don’t think it odd that a family member would want to speak with you about your work,” he said.

“You haven’t called anyone else from the nursing staff down here.”

“Nobody else has directly disobeyed my orders.”

She swallowed thickly at the ringing authority in his tone. Her heartbeat began to roar so loudly in her ears, she wouldn’t be surprised at all if he heard the guilty tattoo. What could she say that wouldn’t betray what she’d accidentally seen last night? Had that man—Vanni—told Montand something?

Was he Vanni? she wondered wildly. No, Vanni wasn’t a nick- name for Michael. Plus, the man she’d partially seen last night had long hair and it had been lighter, with gold streaks in it. She opened her mouth to utter some feeble excuse—she had no idea what—but he cut her off.

“It may seem random to you that I asked for the drapes to remain closed in my stepmother’s suite, but I can assure you that I did so with a reason.”

“I can explain . . . What?” she halted her pressured confession. He gave her a nonplussed glance.

“The drapes,” he repeated.

Relief swept through her. He’d meant the drape incident, not the armoire one.

“What did you think I was going to say?” he asked, eyes nar- rowing on her.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” she lied. “Of course I’ll respect your wishes about the drapes.”

“I’d appreciate if you respected my wishes in regard to everything I have specified with your supervisor.”

She held her breath for a split second. Had he emphasized the word everything, or was that her panicked brain jumping to conclusions?

“Of course,” she managed.

He nodded once and then picked up his fork. Emma had the distinct impression that she’d been dismissed. She wavered on her feet.

“It’s just that the sunshine . . . it might do Cristina some good.” He regarded her with glacial incredulity. Emma felt herself withering from the sheer chill.

“It’s such a beautiful view. I see no reason to deprive her of it,” Emma rallied despite his intimidating stare.

He set down his fork, the clanging sound of heavy silver against fine china startling her. He sat back in his chair. He possessed a lean, muscular . . . phenomenal frame, from what she could see of it. Clearly, he hadn’t built that elaborate workout facility for show. Emma wasn’t sure what to do with herself in the strained, billowing silence that followed.

“It may be beautiful to you,” he said finally.

“It’s not to you?” she asked, bewildered. “Why did you have this house built then? The view dominates every room.” At least when you’re not in it, it does.

One look at his frozen features and she knew she’d gone too far. His gaze dipped suddenly, skimming her body. If another man had done it, she would have been offended. In Michael Montand’s case, it was like a mild electrical current passed through her. Her nipples tightened and something seemed to prickle in her belly, like a hook of sensation pulling at her navel. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, her wisp of confidence evaporating.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t beautiful to me,” he said. He glanced away and Emma knew she’d imagined that flash of heat in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate. “How is she doing?”


He nodded once and picked up a roll from a basket. Emma noticed he possessed strong-looking hands with long, blunt-tipped fingers. “She’s in a great deal of pain. It’s getting worse. I’ve asked the doctor to increase her pain medications.”

He looked up sharply.

“It’s not uncommon, as the cancer spreads,” Emma said, reading his glance of unease.

“Won’t increasing her pain medication make her more confused?”

“Possibly. But it’s better than forcing her to suffer. She’s living the last days of her life. We’re not talking about a headache here. This is severe, mind-numbing pain. When she’s in the midst of it, she’s not very cognitively sharp anyway. None of us would be,” Emma said pointedly.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Again his gaze dropped over her, so fleeting it might have been her imagination.

“Why do you dress that way for work?” he asked, returning to the task of buttering a roll.

Her mouth fell open. “I like to be comfortable. My hospice doesn’t have an issue with it. Do you?”

He began slicing a filet of beef, his gaze averted from her. When he didn’t reply for a moment, her anxiety ratcheted up, but it was accompanied by a spike of defiance. “Is it not formal enough for you?” she asked, as if determined to dig her own grave. He looked up, and she glanced down significantly over his tuxedo-clad form.

He gave a small, unexpected smile, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. Her heart paused.

“You’re wondering if I put on a tuxedo to dine alone near midnight as a custom?” He raised his fork to his mouth and took a swift bite of beef, watching her as he chewed. Emma became highly aware of the movement of his lean, angular jaw and then the convulsion of his strong-looking throat framed by the stark white, open collar as he swallowed. He reached for a crystal goblet of red wine. “That would be pretty pitiful on my part if I did, wouldn’t it?” he asked before taking a swallow of wine. Emma heard the thread of humor in his voice and didn’t know how to reply.

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant. And no, I’m not a formality hound. I just came from a public relations event in the city sponsored by my company. I didn’t get hungry until now. I always lose my appetite at those things. All those cameras. All those vampires,” he added distractedly. He took another bite of beef, and for a moment, Emma wondered if he’d forgotten she was there. “I didn’t mean that I object to your clothing,” he said quietly after a pause. “I just asked because I noticed it was different than the other nurses’.”

His words seemed to hang in the air. I noticed. There was only one way he could have noticed since he never visited Cristina’s suite. He’d taken notice of her on the surveillance camera. Maybe his thoughts went in a similar direction, because his expression suddenly grew sharp and then went carefully blank.

“I thought it might relate to your age,” he said, picking up his knife. “You seem much younger than the others.”

“You thought my dressing habits related to my age? Or my difficulty in not following your instructions did?”


Her back stiffened at that. “I’m twenty-three.”

His succinct nod seemed to say, well it all makes sense then. Irritation shot through her.

“You’re not that much older,” she said impulsively. The cool glance he gave her revealed she was mistaken; it made her feel about twelve years old. What she’d said was technically true. He didn’t look much older than his early thirties or so, but he seemed decades older. Maybe her blurting out those words was her desperate attempt to even the playing field.

He took another bite of meat. “I’m thirty,” he said with infuriating calmness after a pause. “And years are one thing. Experience another.”

“I have a master’s degree in palliative and hospice nursing. I’m very well qualified to take care of your stepmother. And I have plenty of experience,” she defended.

That small smile quirked his lips again. “How did you manage all that in twenty-three years?”

She hesitated, frowning. She realized she was being defensive, but his aloof contempt annoyed her. “I have a late birthday. Plus I did my bachelor’s degree in three years,” she mumbled, already regretting her outburst. Despite her flash of annoyance at his small, patronizing grin, the thought struck her that he had a very sexy mouth. He gave a small shrug.

“Even if you weren’t as experienced as you are I wouldn’t complain. You’re very good with my stepmother. She likes you.” He shot her a hard—or was it bitter?—glance. “And that’s rare. Please just follow my instructions from now on,” he said after a moment, picking up his water glass.

“I will,” Emma said shakily. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, to respond so defensively with a patient’s family member. She normally let criticisms or suspicions in regard to her youthful appearance slide right off her. Her work always ended up being a testament to her worth.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” she said under her breath.

Despite the fact that he’d been looking at his plate when he dis- missed her, the prickly sensation on her back gave her the distinct impression his gaze was on her as she left the room.

THE AFFAIR, available September 1, 2015 in print and ebook!

Read the Reviews

A ginormous book of sizzling hot romance . . . the build-up is incredible between these well-thought out characters who journey together to uncharted lands, in and out of the bedroom.
4 1/2 Stars – RT Book Reviews

“The Affair is unique and rare. It’s a heartfelt, incredibly erotic and moving love story that will leave you hungering for more from this author.”
Recommended Read – The USA Today Happy Ever After Blog

“An erotic romance that is full of depth and stands out from the rest.”
Fresh Fiction

“A terrific and heartwarming romance . . . a gorgeous passionate overtone which was sweet and sexy.”
Grade B Bookpushers

One of my favorite romances of 2014 list…Seriously hot romance
5 Stars Reading in Pajamas

An affair that’s beautiful, yet haunting. Captivating…mysterious. Beth Kery’s words flow effortlessly through the pages
Book Crush

Vanni and Emma are two of the most original and refreshing characters I’ve read in this genre in a very long time… indisputably one of my favorite couples of 2014
5 (I need to read this again) stars! The Book Enthusiast

… Deep and real…everything I look for in a good romance.
Ramblings from this Chick Blogspot

When I'm With You www.BethKery.com Go back to the top