ARC Review: Nightingale by Jocelyn Adams

Title: Nightingale

Author: Jocelyn Adams

Release Date: November 27, 2017 (ARC)

Publisher: Entangled ~ Amara

Category: Contemporary Romance

Type: Digital/Paperback

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Jocelyn Adams Website

Blurb:

Stuck writing for the dull society pages, journalist Darcy Delacorte sets her sights on getting an interview with reclusive millionaire Micah Laine. While she expects the broody tycoon to be a challenge, she isn’t prepared for his dark charm or his price for the sordid details of his past—a price that begins with her spending a week alone with him.

Micah may be a loner, but he’s not a monk, and there’s something about Darcy... He decides that if Darcy wants him to reveal his secrets, she’s going to have to reveal a little of herself. The bigger the revelation he offers up, the bigger the cost he’ll demand from her—a secret of her own, her wildest fantasies, a kiss. And that’s only for starters...

But when Darcy reveals a vulnerability Micah never expected, he knows he should get away fast, or be in danger of losing his heart.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

Favorite Line(s):

“And have you taken a wee look in the mirror lately? You can be pot. I’ll be kettle— it’s cuter.”  ~  Darcy

“You sound surprised an asshole can be wise.”  ~  Micah

“As for the kiss, admit it. It was so good, it should have a damage scale associated with it.”  ~  Micah

Excerpt:

Maggie moved farther into the room, fussing with the buttons on her blue blazer—an odd move for a woman who had few nervous habits. “Now, I need your word you’ll hear me out before saying no.”

Groaning, he turned and gathered his fingers together on his desk. “You’re not making a good case for yourself.” Why was he acting like such an insufferable dick? It wasn’t Mag’s fault his life was taking the long road to hell. “Fine, I’m listening.”

“There’s a woman I want you to speak to.” She tilted her head forward, peering at him over the top of her glasses in obvious challenge.

His lips twitched. “A woman. That doesn’t sound so bad. Now, stop fidgeting and get to the part I’m going to say no to.”

“She’s an aspiring journalist, and don’t point that glare at me, Micah Laine. You gave your word to hear me out, and I’ll thank you to keep it.”

He marched to the window and thrust his finger toward the reporter now sitting on one of the cars parked on the street below. “They pop up everywhere, flashing cameras in my face. It’s like I’m in prison all over again. If they’re not in person, they’re emailing and calling, and that woman who came to ‘volunteer’ last week ended up naked on my desk, offering a night with her in exchange for the details of what happened in Colombia.”

If the pretty vulture hadn’t turned ashen at the sight of his facial scars when he’d pulled his hair back to scare her off, he might have considered a roll in the hay with her. He missed the soft press of a female body against his, the sexual ache growing worse by the day.

“Are you finished?” Her grandmotherly glower knocked him down a notch.

Nodding, he crossed his arms. “For now.”

“This woman isn’t like the ones down there, with no scruples. She’s a blogger I’ve been following for some time, who has old-fashioned values. She wants to write a piece about the foundation for the Toronto Today newspaper, and I want you to let her.”

Jesus, really? “If you believe that’s what she really wants, someone’s going to sell you a bridge one of these days.”

Micah had begun the Coming Home Foundation shortly after his return from Colombia. There were too many families that had nowhere to go for help recovering loved ones from foreign kidnapping and wrongful imprisonment cases. They’d had several successes, but he doubted the blogger gave a royal red shit about any of them.

Maggie sighed and gripped the hips of her skirt suit. “Cooperation for a brighter future. It takes not a village, but an entire nation to right the wrongs of those who commit crimes against humanity, to save those who cannot save themselves. You said that. I came to Canada to thank you for bringing my grandson home to me last year. I stayed because I believe in you and what you’re doing.

“This journalist is a relative unknown, but she’s genuine, fighting for a cause that’s not so different from yours. You know this would be good publicity and possibly add a few much-needed coins to the coffers, not to mention it might break open the mystery of how you freed everyone from that camp, a point of fascination the public loves to chatter on about.”

If this woman had swayed Maggie, she must have been a pro. “Who is she?”

“Darcy Delacorte, as pretty as she is unusual, and I trust her interest in the foundation.”

“Pretty, huh?” His smile grew into mischief, his left cheek pulling strangely around the scar that zigzagged from his left temple, nearly missing his eye, and passing over the corner of his mouth, ending halfway down his neck.

“I don’t like that devilish look about you,” Mags said. “Don’t slam this door before you know what’s behind it. I think the two of you can help each other for the betterment of everyone. You have a lovely philosophy, but it doesn’t mean much if you don’t practice it.”

Damn, it was a bitch to have a voice of conscience barging into his moods. “How do you expect me to trust a journalist?”

“You don’t have to trust her, only me.” Returning to the door, her skirt swishing around her knees, she said, “You’ve become a good man, and it’s time everyone saw him. My grandson survived because of you, and so did five others. Remember that.”

Micah’s lip curled up along with his fists. “Did he survive, Mags? Did any of us?” At her gasp, his gaze fell over her hand covering her mouth, the sight twisting his stomach. Her grandson had tried to kill himself twice since they’d survived.

He rose and rushed to her, bending down to kiss her wrinkled forehead. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

A sad smile graced her lips as she straightened the collar of his shirt, the kind of mothering he’d missed since losing his parents at the tender age of fourteen. “You don’t have to tell her everything,” she said. “David told me about the terrible choice you had to make that day. It’s a choice nobody should have to face, not even God himself.”

In the grips of a shudder, Micah said, “Don’t.”

“Just be civil, listen to what she has to say, and have an open mind.” Mags patted his chest, handed him a business card, and smiled up at him before heading out the door. “Her blog address is on there if you’re interested. She’ll be here in half an hour.”

“Wait, here? I don’t like anyone in my space, Mags, and certainly not a reporter.”

“You won’t see a therapist, and you don’t trust the media with your secrets. So tell Darcy enough of your story to free you from the hounding of the press without crucifying you in the process. Plus, Cynthia’s getting worn out, which you’ve obviously noticed, because you sent her to your cottage for the weekend. She’s good at fundraising, but she’s not you, and you’ve been out of commission since those camera-wielding twits showed up at the museum gala months ago. We need you back out there. All of the prisoners of conscience and kidnapping victims we could help need you out there.”

Goddammit. Maggie had found her mark with precision, and his gut filled with nails. As much as he wanted to shrug her off, Micah had no good arguments. The foundation needed him as much as he needed the foundation. He had money, but not enough to keep the foundation doing the kind of good work it needed to be doing long term, all around the world at a moment’s notice. He needed donors. And donors didn’t like scandals. Not to mention that families in need might question his motives and effectiveness in bringing their loved ones home. Failure wasn’t an option, which meant he needed to find his way back to the public eye.

Maggie smiled at the surrender that must have shown on his face. “Did I tell you she has a wonderful huskiness to her voice, like Kathleen Turner? She has energy to spare, that one. If only we were all so lucky.”

After Maggie left, he stood there, staring at his closed door. There’d be no saving him from what he’d done. No going back to the life he had, as depraved as it had been. The Micah Laine he’d been had died in that stinking jungle camp, and he’d been reduced to a miserable soul stuck in purgatory, left with all of the unfinished business he should have been concerned with when life had been easy. When all his energy had gone into padding his bank account instead of putting his considerable resources toward helping others. Now, post-Colombia, there could be nothing else.

God, why did Mags have to invite the reporter here? Even if Mags insisted Darcy was a new breed of journalist, she’d look into him deeper than he wanted anyone seeing. Maybe it would be a good idea to dig up some dirt on the woman.

Back at his desk, he called up the blog address on the business card Mags had given him. A picture of a young woman graced the top right-hand column amidst a tasteful color scheme of blue and white, and below that, links to charitable causes, including his own.

The layers of her medium brown hair curled out at the ends in a modern, sassy style. She had fair skin, with a hint of healthy pink on her cheeks, long lashes laid across them. An angel’s face on a new kind of devil.

She was a natural beauty instead of the plastic women he used to date. Striking powder blue eyes that needed no makeup stared at something over the photographer’s shoulder. They’d caught her mid-laugh, her glossed lips parted, the force of it causing the corner of those beautiful eyes to crinkle. She probably used her cuteness to win people over, but he was immune to feminine wiles.

He wouldn’t forget who she was and what she wanted—his raw and angry demons.

Beneath her name on the blog, she’d printed her mission statement. Facts without prejudice, truth without spectacle, and delivered with compassion.

“Give me a fucking break.” He closed his laptop and shoved at his hair again. She’d be here in half an hour, and those blue eyes would see everything, because she was a consumer of people. Not like he used to be, for pleasure and business, but to manipulate them into spilling their guts.

He pulled his latest case file from the rack on the corner of his desk and opened it. A small girl with large brown eyes stared up at him from the picture her grandmother had provided, begging Micah to save her from the asshole who’d abducted her. Her own father. Intel suggested he’d taken her to Sierra Leone. Maneuvering around the corruption in West Africa wasn’t going to come cheap.

Micah slumped back in his chair. Of course Mags was right. Wasn’t she always? He hated it, but he had to talk to the reporter, even if it meant reopening his wounds. His temper would be a problem. He’d have to keep a cool head and give Miss Delacorte nothing she’d twist and use against him.

And she would.

They always did.

Dialogue Highlight:

Forcing her attention to the pictures, she studied the composition, the lighting, the incredible eye the photographer had for angles and architecture and people. “These are fantastic, so artistic and well arranged. Are these all the places you’ve traveled?” She pulled at her T-shirt. “What’s with your thermostat? It’s tropical in here.”

He stepped in beside her. “Actually, it’s on the frosty side. Never higher than sixty-eight.” A hint of amused interest had taken the place of his earlier irritation. Playing with her before throwing her out? “And yes, I took these photos myself. That one’s from Thailand, this one’s from Prague, and that one over there is from a vacation I took in Crete.”

“You took them?” Somewhere in her, a knot unknotted, and her synapses fired double-time at the shock of that news. There was far more to this man than she’d imagined. “You can see.”

“What?”

She waved him off. “Something someone said to me once. Instead of just grabbing a quick Instagram shot without paying much attention to your surroundings, you went into the heart of these places.”

“There’s passion in that statement. Why would you care what anyone else sees?”

Still fixed on the images, her mouth ran away before she thought about what spilled out of it. “Because in a blink, those moms and dads and kids and lovers could be gone, and they may never see what’s really important.”

He edged closer. “And what’s that?”

Cursing under her breath, she shrugged, realizing how many tangled emotions she’d laid bare in the words. “People who need our help.” One of her biggest challenges in becoming a journalist was stopping herself from getting emotionally involved in the stories she researched and wrote about. She couldn’t afford to do that, not this time.

The picture closest to her wasn’t quite straight, so she nudged it with her knuckle.

Not avoiding his gaze.

Nope.

She needed his attention on something else for a second so she could breathe. “Do you know what the most shocking thing about these pictures is? I just can’t get over the fact that at least one of your hands wasn’t in some woman’s panties long enough to work the camera.”

She couldn’t help but join in with the infectious sound of his dark, quiet laughter.

“Who are you?” He stretched one long, lean arm toward the wall and propped his palm against it.

“Darcy Delacorte. Let me know when it sinks in.” Flashing a genuine grin, she clapped her hands together. “So, are we going to get down to business, or what? I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

Micah watched her as he returned to his desk and remained standing behind it, all amusement gone. Suspicion stared back at her now, deep and cold. “I haven’t agreed to anything with you, Miss Delacorte, despite whatever promises my assistant made to you.”

“Let’s stick with Darcy.” She took a moment to assess his body language before meeting those wintery eyes again, feeling bolder than she had since making the decision to take Sol up on his challenge. “And you’re wrong; you have agreed.”

His brow furrowed, and he tipped his head forward, causing all of that blond hair to whisper forward, shadowing his face even more. Every pose favored his undamaged side. His hair had become his wall against the gawkers. “Please, enlighten me as to my own line of thinking, then.” His tone held a warning edge.

Flopping down on the chair in front of his desk, she smiled. “Well, you haven’t thrown me out yet despite your apparent grumpy mood. Your arms are relaxed, one in your pocket and the other loose at your side, not crossed or tense like they’d be if you were about to throw me out.” She spun her chair around to break her insane need to smooth his hair back from his face so she could see him better. “Besides, I need you, and I think you need me, and if not consciously, then subconsciously, you know it.”

He laughed again, but it held disbelief and anger more than humor, and he sat down in his chair across the desk from her. “Are you always this arrogant?” His hands worried over his computer mouse, the motion sending zings through her fingers.

“I have no delusions that I’m superior to anyone. The facts are these: I’ve noticed you don’t show up at your own fundraising galas or at press conferences for the foundation, and the reason why is obvious—the paparazzi are relentless where you’re concerned. If you let me, I can make them leave you alone. Unless, of course, you like being a prisoner in your own office. But I’m guessing that’s a resounding no.”

He squinted at her, rubbing his arm absently, as if it was an old pain he dealt with so often he didn’t realize he was doing it. “What’s your angle, here? If you lie to me, this meeting’s over.”

She sat forward in the chair, realizing her next words would either send her back to the basement or put her on the front lines of a war few people knew about. Time to lay it all out there and hope he’d say yes.

Review:

Darcy Delacorte is a small-time journalist wanting to make her big break so that she can write about topics that actually interest her. She had built her reputation on her blog and she really wants Micha’s story. She knows there is a lot to reveal, but she wants to do it with integrity – free of the goal of the other bloodsucking journalists who want to publicize every last detail no matter the cost to Micha. When she makes a deal with him, she doesn’t quite realize just how much of herself she will have to divulge. And when she finally gets to the truth, she has to make a decision – career, or the guy she is falling deeply in love with. But both of them have come from some pretty gnarly backgrounds and trust isn’t going to come easily for either of them.

Micah Laine – former bad boy player, turned recluse with a recovery charity specializing in rescuing people. He has been scarred both figuratively and literally – but it’s the literal scars that interest the media the most. When Darcy agrees to a deal that he thinks will afford himself a bit of protection, he has no idea that the spitfire in front of him could possess so many similarities. In record time Micha is in danger of losing so much more than he bargained for and Darcy ultimately holds all of the cards in her hands. He wants to trust her, but when the story breaks, he struggles with the printed word versus her words and their fragile relationship is suddenly on the verge of complete annihilation.

I very much enjoyed my time with this book. I liken this book to a version of Beauty and the Beast. Micha begins as a shallow self-centered party guy and ultimately learns a lesson which changes his entire life and the way he looks at the world. Suddenly he becomes a Beast on the world’s terms due to his scars, but the beauty lies within. It’s a complete reversal. Darcy is that diamond in the rough – a journalist with a conscience, who wants to report … get this … truth in a positive way. Shocker! While she has her own form of demons, she finds she isn’t all that different from Micha. But her open way of looking at the world and fining the beauty in her surroundings affects him and brings hope slowly back in despite his resistance. So, yes. This is definitely Ms. Adams version of Beauty and the Beast. Ultimately, I felt the characters were well-developed and the plot intriguing. I can’t say that some of the revelations were all that surprising as I had anticipated parts of it. However, the pace remained steady throughout the book and kept me engaged.

My biggest issue with this book is that the secondary characters were pretty much pointless. I understand their presence, but their personalities and depth were lacking quite a bit and so they didn’t make as much of an impact as they could have. Additionally, I don’t know that the reason for Micha’s abduction was ever clearly explained. If so, it was glossed over and I didn’t pick up on it. Weird given the entire premise of this book is getting the facts about what happened. Sure, there are some weak areas in the story, but as an overall entertaining read, Ms. Adams did a decent job. While I am glad I read this book and liked the outcome, I’m not sure I am convinced to return to this author. I wouldn’t be opposed to giving her another shot, but I’d likely look for a story with a completely different plot. I in no way regret my time spent with this book, it just didn’t grab me as forcefully as I would have liked it to. That said, this is still an enjoyable book to read to pass the time and will likely bring reading pleasure to those who adore a good HEA.

Kindle version provided by Entangled/NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.