Daily Archives: 22/06/2017

CHAPTER REVEAL ~ Country Nights by Winter Renshaw

 

 
 
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Sixty country days and sixty country nights—that’s all I wanted.

I needed to get away from the city, away from the hot mess that had become my life.

When I stumbled upon my childhood home on RentBnB.com, I took it as a sign, cleaned out my life savings, and hightailed it to the only place that ever meant something to me, a place I hadn’t seen since a lifetime ago.

Only when I arrived to the familiar South Dakotan farmhouse, I was met by a brooding, we-don’t-take-kindly-to-strangers cowboy by the name of River McCray, who insisted this was his house and most definitely not a rental property.

I’d been internet scammed.

And that cocky, smart-mouthed stranger had the nerve to make me a humiliating offer: I could stay in his house for the next two months rent-free, but I had to work for him.

He’d be my boss. And my roommate.

With no money and nowhere else to go, I agreed. But nothing could have prepared me for the tension, the attraction, and the bombshell revelation that changed … everything.
 
Coming June 27th
 
 

 




Leighton

“Babe, I’m not done yet.” My fingers press into the back of his arms as his naked body unsticks from mine. My lips, parted and breathless, wait for his to return, craving the heat of his tongue as I bask in the early Arizona sunrise peeking through our curtains.
Grant pushes himself away from me, rolling to the cold side of the bed. The contents of his climax spill from the unsatisfied ache between my thighs.
“Thought I told you.” He offers a two-second apologetic smile. “I’m meeting a client at eight. Have to go in early.”
I glance at the vintage alarm clock on his nightstand. There’s more than enough time.
“Five more minutes?” I roll to my side, my swollen lips curling into a slow grin as I trace my fingertips along the crumpled sheets between us. “Please? That’s all I need.”
He smirks, like he thinks I’m being cute, and then he walks around to my side of the bed. Bending to kiss my forehead, he drags his thumb along my lower lip and exhales through his nose.
“Here,” he says, reaching toward my bedside table. Pulling the top drawer open, he fishes through the contents before retrieving my purple vibrator, a relic from the early days of our relationship when I was still trying to be the girl I thought he wanted me to be. A plan that backfired and then some. “This ought to help.”
If there were more light in our bedroom this morning, he’d probably be able to see the color draining from my face.
“You don’t want it?” he asks, pausing for a beat before placing it on the bed to my left.
I can’t answer.
I’m speechless.
Ever since Grant finished law school at NYU and made partner at his uncle’s prestigious law firm in Scottsdale, he’s become self-involved, self-obsessed, and disgustingly self-centered. It’s all about him, all of the time.
I didn’t want to see it.
I didn’t want to believe it.
All this time, I made excuses for him, convincing myself it was a phase. Convincing myself one of these days I’ll get the old Grant back …
… the one with the charming smile who couldn’t keep his hands off me …
… the one I fell in love with fresh out of college …
…the one who was obsessed with me, seeing to it personally that my happiness was above all else …
… the one who almost made me forget about the ones before him and not think twice that there might ever be one after him …
Grant strides toward the en-suite bathroom, his tight ass flexing as he moves, and I listen as he flushes the toilet a moment later. The shower begins to spray. My eyes move to the vibrator. I refuse to touch it.
And besides, my mood has miraculously vanished.
Twisting the diamond engagement ring on my left finger, I run my fingertip along the sharp edges of the glimmering brilliant-cut stone.
It was supposed to symbolize his commitment to me. Hope for the future. Infinite love that never ends.
Peeling myself out of bed, I wrap the percale sheets around my body. Suddenly the idea of standing naked before him feels awkward and vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt around him before. As I make my way to the bathroom, I clear my throat and feel the creep of nervous heat as it blooms up my neck.
He turns to me, rinsing suds from his eyes as his fingertips massage his thick, sandy blond hair. “You want to get in?”
“I don’t want to be with you anymore.” I didn’t rehearse the line. I didn’t ponder the decision longer than the time it took me to walk from the bed to the en-suite. Sliding the diamond ring from my finger, I place it gently next to the sink.
Grant scoffs, pressing the glass shower door open and sticking his head out. “Leighton.”
I shrug before tucking a messy strand of dark hair behind one ear, unable to meet his gaze because although my head knows the man standing before me is different from the one I once knew, my heart knows no difference. As soon as he leaves for work, I’ll clean myself up and pack my things.
I’m not sure where I’ll go, but I’ll figure it out. Anyplace would be better than sticking around here like Grant’s personal doormat.
“All because I didn’t give you an orgasm?” He laughs. He isn’t taking me seriously.
Shaking my head, I say, “It’s not that.”
He rinses the soft white suds from his body, steps onto the mat, and wraps a white towel around his waist, tucking it at his hip. The scent of cedar wood shower gel permeates the muggy air, suffocating my senses as his hands circle my waist.
Spinning me to face him, he cups my chin in his right hand.
“Talk to me,” he says, focused. “What’s this about? What’s going on here?”
“You’ve changed.”
He rolls his eyes, still smiling. “Of course I’ve changed. I’m building the life we’ve always dreamed of. The long hours? The Maserati? The wardrobe? It’s all part of an image I have to project. Nobody wants to hire a lawyer who rolls up in a rusty sedan in an off-the-rack suit. Come on. You know that.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
His brows meet. “Then how have I changed?”
“You’re selfish,” I say, “And you never used to be. We used to be in this together. You and me. We used to fit together so easily, and now … now it’s like we don’t even line up anymore.”
“Christ, Leighton. You know I love you. You know you’re the center of my world.” He drags a hand through his damp hair. “I’m sorry my career is overshadowing what we have right now, but I promise it’s not forever.”
My mind replays a moment from last weekend, when we attended a charity gala in downtown Phoenix. I counted at least eight women who couldn’t take their eyes off Grant all night, and the man was well aware. He strutted around, peacock proud, introducing himself to anyone who so much as met his cunning emerald gaze. Never once introducing me as I stood in his shadow like a forgotten afterthought.
There’s a difference between networking and schmoozing.
The old Grant would’ve worn me proudly on his arm, kissed my forehead every chance he got, and introduced me like a true gentleman.
Instead he left me alone by the open bar, at one point spending twenty-five minutes chatting up a leggy redhead in head-to-toe Givenchy. She couldn’t stop smiling in his presence, touching his arm as she laughed at everything he said, and he stood unusually close to her.
I’m not a jealous woman, and I never have been, but seeing how Grant looked at every other woman that night with the same gaze he used to lovingly reserve for me filled me with doubt and made me question our relationship for the first time since we met.
“You scheduled a client dinner on our anniversary last month,” I say. “And you forgot my birthday this year.”
Grant places a hand over his perfect, chiseled chest. “And I apologized for those incidences, did I not?”
“The old you—”
“—the old me?” His brows lift, incredulous. “There is no old me. Stop being dramatic. I’m going to work before you make me late with all of … this.”
A little piece of me dies every time he takes that tone with me, which lately has been more frequent than ever.
He shakes his head, disgusted, and heads to the closet. When he returns with a red gingham tie in hand, he releases a quick breath.
“We’ll finish this when I get home tonight.” He places the tie on a robe hook, and his tone is softer than it was a second ago.
For a splintered moment, I second guess my decision.
Am I being rash?
Do other people spend almost eight years with someone and then wake up one morning and decide it’s over? That it’s not worth trying to salvage? That it’s suddenly come to this?
I watch Grant as he stands over the sink, lathering shaving cream onto his chiseled cheek bones, humming a Rolling Stones song to himself like it’s any other day. I don’t think this man has ever worried for a single second that he might lose me, and maybe that’s why he’s pushed me to the back burner over the last couple of years.
“I love you, Leighton.” He stares into the mirror, our eyes meeting in his reflection. “I’ll fix this. Whatever’s bothering you, we’ll figure it out tonight. I’ll make it right, I promise.”
That’s Grant: cold and cutting one moment, sweet and tender the next.
He never used to be this way.
Grant’s razor drags along his cheek, leaving a track of smooth, tanned skin in its place, and he flashes his trademark disarming smile that makes me think the old him might still be in there somewhere, waiting for me to breathe him back to life.
I pause before stepping out of the bathroom and heading back to bed. Mondays are my late day, and I don’t have to be at work for another three hours, which will give me more time to think this through.
Passing his nightstand, I catch his lit phone screen from the corner of my eye.
Normally I wouldn’t look, but there’s a nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach, a jarring feeling that tells me something isn’t right.
Peering into the bathroom, I don’t see Grant. He must be in the closet, changing into his suit. Sucking in a deep breath, I steal a look at the text message taking up half of the screen.
And then my heart drops to the floor.

I’M READY FOR MY CROSS EXAMINATION THIS MORNING, COUNSELOR, BUT I HAD A COUPLE OF QUESTIONS BEFORE WE PROCEED. LACE OR SILK? MY OFFICE OR YOURS? XO

A million questions swarm my mind, all of them circling at once.
Who is she?
How long has this been going on?
Is she the first?
How could I not know?!
Why would he initiate sex this morning?
Why would he tell me he loves me and then run off to fuck someone else?
“Leighton?” Grant’s voice brings me back, and my frozen stare moves from his phone to the bathroom doorway where he stands. His hands adjust the Windsor knot of his tie, though right now I’m wishing they were my hands, pulling it tighter and tighter still. If I can’t breathe right now, why should he get the privilege? “What’s wrong?”
My vision drowns in warm tears.
It was different earlier. There was a sense of pride in knowing I could make the decision to end things based on principle.
But now …
It seems the decision has been made for me.
There’s no recovering from this.
There’s no bouncing back.
This is the bottom dropping out.
“Leighton, talk to me.” Grant moves closer, lowering to his knees and taking my limp hands in his. I want to recoil at his touch, but I don’t have the energy. “Did something happen? Is it your grandmother?”
He doesn’t get it, at least not right away.
But when his eyes move toward the phone, his breath catches. And then he lets me go, his hands sliding off of mine, slow and careful.
Grant stands, straightening his posture before slipping his phone into his pocket and studying my face.
The weight of his stare is heavy, but the silence between us is heavier.
The man who has argued hundreds of cases over his budding career is officially speechless, unable to defend his reprehensible actions.
And how could he?
The evidence is damning, and his lack of words may as well be a guilty plea.
He leaves.
I stay.
But not for long.
  


 
 
Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
 
And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here —> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j
 
 
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NEW RELEASE ~ Hyde’s Absolution by Nina Levine

The highly anticipated fourth book from Nina Levine’s Sydney Storm MC is available now!

Are you reading to meet this possessive biker?

The Sydney Storm MC are back and war is coming.

Monroe Lee is a handful.
She fights me, challenges me and tries to resist me.

Where I’m jagged, she’s smooth.
Where I’m dark, she’s pure.
Where I’m broken, she’s whole.

I am not a good man.
I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever loved.
I should walk away before I ruin her too.

But fuck, we are fire together.
And I’ve been out in the cold too long.
At a time when everything is falling down around me, she might just be my saviour.

This story contains all the panty-melting sexiness and alpha goodness that Nina Levine books are known for.

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READ AN EXCERPT FROM HYDE’S ABSOLUTION

I tore my attention from Hyde and gave it back to Tatum when she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Hyde’s presence had pretty much wiped all coherent thought from my mind, so I simply nodded and murmured, “Okay.”

As she and Nitro walked away from us, Hyde moved closer. His scent almost hypnotised me, if that was even possible. Looking down at me, he said, “What are you drinking?” The husky tone of his voice was like the final nail in my coffin. He could lead me down the path to sin with that voice.

“A cosmo please.”

He turned to the waiting bartender and ordered drinks before shifting his gaze back to me. His body was so damn close it almost pressed against mine. His eyes dropped to my chest. “You weren’t made to be subtle, were you, sugar?”

“Can’t say that word’s in my vocabulary, no.” The way he was devouring my body told me I’d made the best decision when I bought the black dress I wore tonight. Knee length with a plunging neckline and accentuated with a belt around my waist, it clung to every curve I had. My girls were up and proudly out, just the way I liked them. I mean, if you had it, flaunt it, right? And I’d had the red in my hair touched up that afternoon. It hung in lazy vivid red curls to just below my breasts. I wasn’t sure which part of me he thought wasn’t subtle, but I guessed it had something to do with my dress by the way he seemed unable to draw his gaze from my body.

Finally he found his way back up to my face. The heat flashing in his eyes shot a round of lust through my veins. Good God, this man, though. I wondered if he had any idea of the storm he caused within me. “Don’t ever add it.” If what he said didn’t make my legs sway a little, the forceful, gravelly way he said it did.

The bartender placed our drinks on the counter, distracting us from each other. Hyde dropped some cash on the bar, took a mouthful of his whisky and looked back at me while I got down as much of my drink as I could in one mouthful. God knew, I needed it. I could stand my ground with any man, but Hyde had a way of catching me off guard.

“You calm down after that thing about owing me money this morning?” And there he went, flipping my feelings about him on their head.

I fixed him with a look that let him know I wasn’t impressed. “I didn’t have anything to calm down from.”

“You seemed all worked up about it.”

I threw some more of my cocktail down my throat. “I wasn’t.” But I was getting there now, that was for sure.

He drank some more whisky, keeping his eyes steady on mine. “Okay.”

Okay? Oh no he didn’t. He didn’t get to end a conversation with that bullshit. “Okay? Seriously, you’re going to end with that?”

“It seemed pointless to argue.”

I finished my drink and placed the empty glass down with some force. Sliding off my stool, I said, “We weren’t arguing. I was simply telling you like it was.”

“Yeah, I’ve picked that up about you.”

My eyes practically popped out of their sockets. “Picked up what about me?”

“That you like to tell men like it is.”

“I do not! You just have this way of pushing my buttons. I feel like it’s you, not me.”

His lips twitched. “Sugar, if I knew which buttons I was pushing, I’d push them some more. I never said I didn’t like the way you told me how it was.”

I snatched my bag off the bar. I needed a moment to get my thoughts under control. In the space of seconds I’d switched from wanting him to wanting to smack him to wanting him again. My mind needed a break from the whiplash. I took a step away from the bar and said, “I’ll have another cosmo.”

Without waiting for his response, I headed in the direction of the ladies room. I’d almost made it there when a hand slid around my waist and I was pushed up against the wall in the dark hallway. A hard body pushed against mine as the hand around my waist slid down to settle on my ass and warm breath whispered across my cheek. “My cock likes that attitude of yours. Surprised the fuck outta me, but I can’t deny I want more of it.”

The proof of his statement ground against me, sparking need all over me. Every inch of my skin blazed with desire. I gripped his shirt with both hands and found his eyes. “You and I weren’t made for each other, Hyde.”

“I’m not saying we were.”

My body went to war with my mind. It fought me kicking and screaming, desperate for what he was offering, but I didn’t want to surrender. “So what’s the point of starting something?”

He pushed his cock harder against me. “I came here against better judgement tonight. Nitro told me you’d be here and I came because I couldn’t, for the fucking life of me, get you out of my head. I want my hands on those curves of yours and my dick as far inside you as you can take it.”


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If you haven’t started this series yet, download the first book, Relent,
for FREE today and catch up on the series everyone is talking about!

Book One in the new Sydney Storm MC series.

 

A biker torn between loyalty to his club and love for his woman.

I let Evie Bishop go once. I won’t make that mistake again.

I’ve loved Evie since we were kids, before I found the Storm MC.
Long before I sold my soul to the devil.
I never wanted to bring her into this world, but a man can only go so long without the woman he loves by his side. I need her like I fucking need air and I won’t stop until she’s mine again.
I knew she’d battle me.
I knew I’d have to fight hard for her.
But I never thought I’d be in this predicament—torn between her and my club.
The thing about me, though, is that I’ll do anything for those I love. Even if it could cost me everything.

Standalone Motorcycle Club Romance

This spin-off series can be read without reading the original Storm MC Series.

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AUTHOR BIO

Dreamer.
Coffee Lover.
Gypsy at heart.

USA Today Bestselling author who writes about alpha men & the women they love.

USA Today Bestselling Author Nina Levine is an Aussie author who writes alphas with a side of dirty and sassy women who don’t hand their hearts over easily.

When she isn’t creating with words, she loves to create with paint and paper. Often though, she can be found curled up with a good book and some chocolate.

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