Hard Drive by Marcella Swann Book Tour and Giveaway :)
Hard Drive
Tech
Titans Series Book 1
by
Marcella Swann
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
Can
I tame the Bad Boy Playboy of Silicon Valley?
Damian
Black: He’s gorgeous and knows it.
A
titan of the tech industry and not yet 30.
Models
and starlets are his for the taking.
A
billionaire.
And
so very good at being bad.
I
tell myself I don’t want him even though I do, in the worst way.
But
I’ve got a secret that could ruin everything.
Gigi
Stevens: She’s brainy and beautiful and has a tongue as sharp as an
ice pick.
I’m
the face of a multi-billion-dollar tech company and I’ve got a rep.
I’m
used to shallow and superficial but that’s not her.
That’s
not her at all.
And
it throws me.
Is
something real worth the risk?
There’s
only one way to find out.
It’s
a dangerous dance: Will she tame the Bad Boy or will she be the one
who’s conquered?
**Only
.99 cents!**
G
I G I
Gigi
Stevens had never seen a party so over-the-top gonzo.
Palm
trees, jungle vines swinging from the ceiling, and animatronic
dinosaurs so large and lifelike they could be used in the next
Jurassic Park film. If the DJ’s steady assault of concussive beats
weren’t enough to elevate Gigi’s heart rate, then the sight of
velociraptors and a roaming T-Rex most certainly were. Granted,
since moving to San Francisco she’d attended only a few of the tech
industry’s notorious gatherings, thrown by nouveau riche code nerds
who’d hit it big with apps or games or search engines, socially
awkward guys who might chronologically be pushing thirty, but who
were emotionally still
scouring
the pages of D&D monster manuals in their parents’ basements. Tonight’s
party was different, however. And the party was different because the
man throwing the party was different. Damian
Black, she thought. Or should I call you by your full name, the one
given to you by the tabloids? Damian Black, the Bad Boy Playboy of
Silicon Valley.
“Georgina!” Gigi
whirled in the direction of the shout. Speaking of full names, she
thought. Judy
Mixson was making her way through the throng, holding champagne
flutes high in each hand, trying not to spill their golden contents.
When she finally reached Gigi, she handed her a flute and said,
loudly, over the music, “A bit of the bubbly, my dear.”
“Oh
God, thank you,” said Gigi. “I need it.” She leaned her head
back and downed the champagne in one gulp. “Easy
there, girl! The night is young and so are you.” “I
wish I wasn’t,” Gigi said. “It’s one reason why nobody here
will take me seriously.” She peered thoughtfully into her empty
flute. “Young, fresh out of college—” “An
Ivy League college,” Judy interjected. “Yeah,
but it was Brown, and for some damn reason everyone keeps forgetting
it’s an Ivy League school. They know Harvard, Yale, and Princeton,
and that’s it.” “Look
here, Georgina: you’re the smartest person in this room and you
know it. In the last half-hour, you’ve forgotten more about coding
and techy stuff than everyone else in here will learn over the next
ten years. And look at you, girl, you’re totally—”
“Don’t
say ‘hot.’ You know I’m not even remotely.” “Actually,
I was going to say—”
“And
don’t say ‘cute.’ You know how much I hate hearing that.” Judy
made an amusingly frustrated face. “But you are hot. You are cute.
Just look at you in your smart little blazer and black jeans.” “You’re
not helping.” “And
those glasses! That beautiful brown hair!”
“I’m
praying the Lord takes me right now,” Gigi said. Judy
laughed and sipped her champagne. In
fact, Gigi was brilliant and beautiful, and not wholly unaware of it.
She wore her blessings with grace but not always with ease. Beautiful
women, she knew, were seen not as equals, but as possessions, and
smart women were threats to the established order. TrekTek, one of
the more promising Silicon Valley startups, had taken remarkably
little time in bringing her on board its research and development
department, but Gigi sensed that she’d already plateaued at age 23
and could expect little more than a career of lateral promotions. She
was a young, beautiful woman in an industry run by men with egos as
big as California and as fragile as Christmas ornaments. “By
the way,” Gigi said, “you know you’re the only one who gets to
use my actual name, right? Don’t go giving people ideas. I don’t
want it to become a trend. I only allow you to do it because it’s a
best friend privilege.” Judy
gave a look of melodramatic mock seriousness. “The dreadful secret
of your first name will remain safe with me, Georgina.” Gigi
scanned the crowded floor of Club Terra, thick with sweaty partygoers
dancing herky-jerky and not always to the beat. In the distance, over
Judy’s shoulder, Gigi could see a T-Rex flashing in and out of
view, the strobe effect of the DJ’s lighting setup rendering the
dinosaur’s movements every bit as herkyjerky as the revelers. “Dinosaurs,
for God’s sake. You ever been to a party that had dinosaurs?”
Gigi asked. Judy
thought for a moment. “Down in Bakersfield, I attended a party with
a dinosaur.” “Really” “Yeah,”
Judy said. “His name was Sidney Applebaum.” Gigi
laughed. “Seriously,
the guy was like 70 years old and had just married a girl our age.” “Ew,”
Gigi said, wrinkling her nose. “You
know what he gave her as a wedding gift?” “No,
what.” “An
antique organ.” Gigi
laughed out loud. “Oh, Judy, that’s terrible.” There
was a loud metallic bang, like someone throwing a giant switch in a
fuse box, and suddenly, without warning, the room was thrust into
total darkness. No lights, no music, no nothing. A beat of silence,
then people started screaming. Then,
just as suddenly, a single bright spotlight illuminated the DJ’s
table onstage. But
instead of the DJ whose name Gigi never cared to learn, the figure
now lit by the spotlight’s glare was someone whose name she knew
quite well. Damian
Black. The
crowd’s terrified screaming quickly morphed into wild cheering and
clapping, and Gigi felt her face go warm. For God’s sake, get a
grip, she told herself. You know what he’s about. You know he’s
no good.
“Holy
shit,” Judy said. “Just look at him, girl. It’s gotta be a
mirage. He’s too damn good-looking to be real.” “Oh,
there’s no doubt he’s gorgeous,” Gigi nearly shouted over the
cheers. “And there’s definitely no doubt in his mind.” “Be
nice,” Judy said. Damian
raised his hands. “Greetings, Silicon Valley degenerates!” The
crowd laughed. “I
want to welcome you all here for this celebration of, well, me.” More
laughter, and from the crowd a female voice shouted, “You rock,
Damian!” He
raised his hands higher to quell the cheering and said, grinning, “No
need to point out the obvious, love.” Everyone
laughed. Everyone,
that is, except Gigi. She leaned toward Judy and said, “I just
rolled my eyes so hard they fell out of my butt.” Judy
gave her a nudge. “You gotta get in the spirit of things. The guy’s
not even 30 yet and already a friggin’ billionaire. Of course he’s
a little full of himself. You gotta loosen up, girl.” Gigi
stared through the crowd at the sleek, glowing figure onstage.
“According to the tabloids, he’s loose enough for both of us.”
Marcella Swann is an Amazon #1 bestselling author of heart-thumping and heart-melting contemporary romance. She's plied her trade in the newspaper business, written and produced a way off Broadway play, and is the proud mama of a singer-songwriter. When she's not trying to save newspapers from eminent doom (by subscribing to them all), she loves to take her readers on dreamy journeys to that place where all the men are hotties and the women are beautiful and strong. She also swings a mean kettle bell at the gym and likes people watching at Grand Central on a busy day.
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