Cover Reveal + Excerpts – Man Feast by Krista Sandor


Billionaire workaholic Jasper Bergen calls the shots—and that’s just the way he likes it. Period.

As CEO of Bergen Enterprises, he’s dedicated his life to keeping his family’s mountain sports empire profitable. But sales have plateaued, and the company needs a jumpstart.

Enter Elle Reynolds.

She’s a bestselling travel writer whose celebrity adventurer status makes her the perfect choice to boost the company’s public image.

The perfect choice to everyone but Jasper.

Hired by the company’s founders, he has no choice but to work with the free-spirited author.

And while they clash at every turn, Elle can’t quit. Her accountant has swindled her out of millions, and she needs this job to get back on her feet.

But Jasper and Elle may have more in common than they think.

Thanks to their busy schedules, neither’s dated in ages.

Each is experiencing a sexual famine that can only be remedied by a feast— a MAN FEAST.

When they agree to a no-strings night of passion, their sexual chemistry is off the charts.

And these two opposites soon realize there’s a fine line between love and hate.

COMING JULY 15, 2019




Jasper brushed his thumb across her trembling bottom lip. “I’ve been under your spell from the moment I laid eyes on you, Eleanor. I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of denying my feelings for you. I’m tired of pretending whatever it is between us is something that can be flicked on and off like a light switch. Say you want this. Say you want me just like I want you.”

She stared into his eyes as the disco ball cast them in a blanket of twinkling lights. A week ago—no, three days ago—she would have laughed in the face of anyone who said she and Jasper would end up like this, professing their feeling for each other while Salsa dancing in Vermont.

“Kiss him, Eleanor!” came a loud shriek from the bar.

Elle looked around at the dozens of pairs of eyes glued on them.

“Yeah, Eleanor, go for it!” came another voice from the crowd.

She bit her lip, giddy with excitement, her heart about to burst in her chest.

“Girl, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him!” came another shout.

She held Jasper’s gaze. “I want him.”

—An excerpt from MAN FEAST by Krista Sandor


Elle spun around. 

This day couldn’t get any worse.

Striding toward her like he owned the road, Jasper Bergen whipped off his Aviators and pinned her with his steel-blue gaze.

She pressed her hands to her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was trying to park my car in the garage. But you’re in my way.” He glanced past her toward the tow truck. “Are you having car trouble, Eleanor?”

Eleanor! Jesus! What was it with this guy? 

She glanced at her beautiful car hooked up to the towing mechanism and currently blocking the entrance to the underground parking garage. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Lady, get out of the way! We’re taking the car! That’s the end of it!” the driver called, craning his head out the window.

Jasper’s gaze darted between her and the truck. “Are they repossessing your Porsche?”

Dear Universe, you suck!

Clothes spattered with gray flecks of wet sludge. Her hair twisted into a damp bun and mascara running down her cheeks. Of course, she’d run into Jasper Bergen at this exact craptastic moment.

—An excerpt from MAN FEAST by Krista Sandor

Excerpt 3

“There better be some liquor in here,” Elle said as the lights went out almost as if on cue.

Lit by the fire, he watched her search the cabin.

“The staff isn’t supposed to consume alcohol here. I’ve forbidden it.”

She pulled a bottle out from behind an end table. “Well, thank the tequila gods, not everyone follows your explicit commands.”

He shook his head. He’d check the log when they got back to the resort. Somebody was getting fired.

“And don’t even think about firing whoever left it here. It was an act of kindness by the universe,” she added.

Damn, it was like she was in his head. 

He stood. “An act of kindness for who?” 

“For me,” she shot back, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. She held out the bottle. “Can you handle tequila, Mr. Fancy Pants CEO?”

“Can I handle tequila?” he grumbled then brought the bottle to his lips and gulped down the harsh liquid. “Jesus! What kind of tequila is this?”

“The cheap kind,” she said with a thread of amusement.

He passed the bottle back, and she took it, the tips of her fingers sliding over his. The breath caught in his throat as the firelight warmed her features, and her tequila moist lips glistened. 

Damn this woman for being so infuriatingly alluring.

—An excerpt from MAN FEAST by Krista Sandor


“Put an Oreo and a tortilla chip into your mouth at the same time,” she instructed.

He grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“Suit yourself! I’ll enjoy this salty-sweet feast all on my own,” she said, delicately placing a chip on the cookie then attacking the strange food combination with the intensity of a pack of wild dogs.

He held her gaze then picked up an Oreo. He was not one to back down from a challenge. 

Carefully, he set a small piece of tortilla chip on top of the cookie and stared at the concoction. 

“There you go!” she said through a mouthful of food.

He took a bite. “Jesus, that’s good!”

There had to be a rational explanation for why this tasted so amazing. It had been twelve hours since he’d last had anything to eat. Cardboard would have tasted equally delicious. But then he looked at Elle, and he knew he was kidding himself. He chuckled and shook his head, staring at the cookie crumbs dotting her mouth.

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You eat like a toddler.”

She watched him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Take off your coat and snow pants.”

He was not expecting that.


Good god! Why was he even asking? He had track pants on beneath his snow pants. 

“Just do it,” she said, shimmying out of her snow gear. 

She turned up the volume on the radio as a catchy little Latin beat filled the cabin. “If we’re stuck here, we might as well do some Salsa dancing.”

He took a long pull off the tequila bottle. “You’re kidding.” He’d never Salsa danced a day in his life.

Still facing him, she walked backward. No, not walked. Wearing only skintight black long underwear, she swiveled her hips to the beat and swayed in the center of the cabin. 

“This song is called ‘Brujería.’ I learned to Salsa to it on a trip to Miami,” she said, doing a little turn that got his full attention.

He stripped off his coat and removed his snow pants. “What does brujería mean?”

She extended her hand and beckoned him with her index finger. “Witchcraft.”

Was it ever!

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