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For months, I’ve watched him.
I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve
lived in for the last six years.
I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare.
Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but
life is full of cause and effect.
And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all.
It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to
survive the ripple effect.



Dylan Walker has spent six years trying to move on from the loss of his girlfriend, Presley Cooper. Motivated by grief and the desire to do for others what he couldn’t do for her, he burns the candle at both ends to make it through medical school. After graduation he moves west, putting as much distance as possible between his past and his present.
Or so he thought.
Unknowingly, Dylan has been set on a path that will destroy everything he thought he knew. All the pain, all the grief, was all for nothing. With the help of an unexpected ally, Dylan must find the answers and save the girl he loves before it’s too late.
Deceit.
Betrayal.
Revenge.
A second chance at love.
But first, he must find a way to make her remember her past. Remember him. Remember everything.
Dylan stood in front of his bathroom sink, a towel wrapped around his waist as he wiped the fog from the mirror. He studied his face, the lines that creased the skin around his blue-gray eyes and the shadows underneath that never seemed to fade. His eyes dropped lower, and his hand lifted of its own accord to trace the wing of the butterfly tattooed over his heart. The red ink curved and twisted to form a beautiful wing on one side, while the other was nothing but sharp, broken lines, the decayed black wing dripping with ink. It was the perfect tribute to Presley. She used to say he made her flutter. He regretted never telling her she did the same to him. When she left, she took that feeling with her.


Olivia Evans is a dreamer by day, writer by night. She’s obsessed with music and loves discovering new bands. Traveling the world and watching the sun set in every time zone sounds like heaven to her. A true Gemini, she follows her heart blindly and lives life to the fullest with her husband, son, and friends. Her other loves are: Chuck Taylors, Doc Martens, concert tees, gangster movies, sports, wine, craft beer and her shih tzu’s.



Chapter 2
~Trevor~
I didn’t sleep worth shit last night. I waited for a response to my e-mail from Riley for a while; I’m not exactly sure why. I just don’t like the thought of her being embarrassed.
Because she has no reason to be. She didn’t know who I was, and it was closing time. She was venting to her friends.
It’s really no big deal.
But I could see the mortification in her big blue eyes when she realized who I was, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
When no response came, and for all I know she hasn’t even read the e-mail yet, I sat down for a game on the PS4. I don’t travel anywhere without it. Some people read to unwind. Some go to the gym, and there are times I do the same. But to truly relax, I enjoy gaming. I have since I was a kid.
So I settled in the apartment the network has rented for me this month and played online with my friends, talking about our days and shooting the enemy.
We played well past midnight, and I usually would have gone right to bed afterward, but my mind was still turning, making falling asleep impossible. The restaurant is better than I imagined through my research on their website and customer reviews. It’s visually stunning, the food is fantastic, and they’ve hit the mark on the sexy factor.
But added to that, the five women who own the place are all beautiful, smart, and will make for great TV. Viewers will eat this show up, pun intended.
I lean over the sink and wash my face, not bothering to shave today, and as I dry off, I reach for my phone.
I have several new e-mails.
The most recent is from Riley Gibson.
Trevor,
Thank you for your kind email. I apologize again for the conversation last night. I would like to promise that we don’t always talk like that at work, but that would be a lie. At least we keep it to closing time over a glass of wine.
Enjoy Portland,
Riley
I grin and sling the towel over my bare shoulders. Riley isn’t what I had pictured in my head before I got here. I knew that she was pretty because their photos are on their website, but she’s much prettier in person.
And animated.
Working with her will be fun.
And a test to my libido. Because Riley is fucking sexy. I’ve never mixed business and sex before, and I don’t plan to start now, but keeping my hands off her will be a test of wills.
And that too should be fun.
After my run this morning, I stopped by a bagel place to eat and read a newspaper, came back to the apartment for a shower, and I think I’ll go to Seduction for lunch. I hadn’t planned to go back there until my meeting with Riley tomorrow, but I also haven’t had lunch there yet.
I dress quickly in jeans and a red T-shirt and walk the six or so blocks to the restaurant.
They’ve just opened, so they’re not busy yet. The atmosphere is calm, the lighting a bit brighter than last night, making it a fun spot to meet with colleagues or friends for lunch.
I’m seated on the far side of the restaurant, where it meets the bar, and I can see Riley and the other women sitting around a high table, talking.
Loud enough for me to hear.
“So, he’ll be here tomorrow. Filming doesn’t start for another week, unless the timetable has been moved up,” Riley says, studying her iPad and checking things off a list. “It would be great if we could watch our language.”
“Right,” Mia says, rolling her eyes. “Because that’s gonna happen.”
“Just watch the F-bombs then,” Riley says with a grin. “And I’ll do my best not to vent to him about my horrible dating experiences. Not that I’ll be having any more of those.”
“I wish I’d been here for that,” Addie says with a smile. “It’s hilarious.”
“No, it’s not,” Riley says, but smiles and covers her lips with her fingers. “Okay, it’s a little funny. I’ll be working from home today.”
“Why?” The blonde speaking, I presume Cami, asks.
“Because I have a roofer coming today,” Riley says. “But if you need me, just call. I can come back after he leaves.”
“Go.” Mia waves her off. “We’ve got this.”
The girls all stand, about to go their own ways to get their day started. They’re clearly good friends, which will come across well on film.
Riley walks out of the bar and glances up, spotting me.
“Hi.” I offer her a smile and motion for her to join me. She sits, sets her iPad aside, and squares her shoulders.
I love a woman with grit.
“Why are you here?” she asks.
“I’m having lunch,” I reply, and gesture to the salad sitting in front of me. “It’s delicious. Adding the brussels sprouts is smart.”
“I’ll pass that along to Mia,” she says, and then laughs. “I guess you heard the part where I asked the girls to not swear.”
“I did,” I reply, and patiently butter a piece of warm bread. “Don’t worry about that stuff. They’re adults.”
“With potty mouths,” she says.
“And we can bleep stuff out, or ask them to rephrase. You’ve already got the gig, Riley. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. This isn’t an audition.”
“I know.” She sighs and reaches over to take a piece of my bread, surprising and delighting me. “I just want things to go smoothly.”
“Perhaps you should order lunch too.”
“I don’t have time,” she says, and then her blue eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. “I’m so sorry. I eat when I’m stressed out, and I didn’t—”
“No.” I hold my hand up to stop her. “It’s fine. I like that you’re relaxed with me. I think you need to relax more often.”
“What are you, my life coach now?”
“If you like. Did you cancel those dating sites like I suggested?”
She bites her lip and looks to the side, then nods. “I did.”
“Good.” I take a bite of salad and nod. “Are you sure you don’t want some food?”
“I rarely have time to eat,” Riley says, and checks the time on her phone. “In fact, I should go. I have to meet the roofer at my house.”
“What’s wrong with your roof?”
“It’s old,” she says with a shrug. “That’s what happens when you buy an old house. I’m fixing it up a little at a time.”
I nod, and find that I don’t want her to go quite yet. I want to talk more, to learn more about her.
“Why don’t you come to my apartment tonight and I’ll cook you dinner?”
She pauses and stares at me for a moment. “Why?”
I laugh and set my fork down. “Because I asked you to. We’re going to be working closely over the next few weeks, we might as well get to know each other a little better. Also, we can discuss my new duties as your life coach.”
“Well.” Her lips twitch as she thinks it over for a moment, a myriad of emotions moving across her beautiful face, and finally she says, “Okay. Do you mind texting me the address and the time?”
“Not at all,” I reply, and immediately pass her my phone. “Plug in your number and I’ll text you this afternoon.”
She complies, passes it back, and smiles. “Okay, see you later.”
And with that, she’s off. Her ass swaying enticingly in her tight skirt, calves flexing from the height of her heels, and the food I’m currently chewing immediately tastes like cardboard.
Jesus.
And I just voluntarily offered to spend time with her. Alone.
I’m a fucking glutton for punishment.
[no ornament]
“I’m starving,” Riley immediately says as I open the door. She’s in jeans and a well-loved University of Oregon sweatshirt, her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she looks like she could be a co-ed herself. “I forgot to eat today.”
“Does that happen every day?” I ask as I gesture for her to come inside and close the door behind her.
“Most days,” she admits. “Is this one of those bad choices that you’re gonna coach me through?”
“Yes,” I reply, and lead her into the kitchen. “You have to eat.”
“I know, I just get focused on other things, and the next thing I know, the day is gone and I’m starving.” She passes me two bottles of wine. “I didn’t know what we were having, so I brought red and white.”
“Thanks.” I grin and set them both on the counter. “I made salmon and asparagus with baby red potatoes. What goes best with that?”
Her eyes light up. “The white. Holy shit, are you a chef yourself?”
“I went to culinary school,” I reply, and squeeze some lemon on the salmon before plating it. “But I discovered I was better at a desk job.”
“That’s unusual,” she says, her head tilted to the side as she listens. “Most people fight to get out of a desk job.”
“Not me. I have a ton of respect for Mia, because being a chef isn’t easy, and pleasing people sucks.”
“True.” Riley nods. “She doesn’t get many plates sent back to her, but there are a few. Can I pour you a glass?”
“No thanks,” I reply, and reach in the fridge for a bottle of water. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “I’m sorry. I can drink water too.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, and pat her shoulder. “I don’t mind if you drink. I just don’t.”
“But last night, you were drinking Jack and Coke.”
“Nope, just Coke.”
She sits at the table, still frowning. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” I set our plates down. “I’ve been sober for ten years. I’m not the kind of alcoholic who can’t be around others having a drink. It was never that bad for me. I’m just a better person if I don’t drink.”
“Good for you for knowing that,” she says, holding her glass out to clink against my water. “This looks delicious.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I expected pizza or Chinese takeout,” she says. “Honestly, that’s probably what you would have gotten from me. I’m also surprised that you’re not staying in a hotel.”
“I’m here long enough that the network sprung for the apartment. They usually do when I’m somewhere longer than a week or so.”
“You must travel a lot for this job,” she says, eating her food like a starving child. I don’t know if she even tastes it, she’s eating so fast.
“I travel often,” I reply, and grin when she takes the last bite. “Are you going to lick the plate?”
“Maybe,” she says with a grin. “I’m not even embarrassed that I ate that so fast. It was delicious.”
“I’m glad you liked it. There’s more.”
“No, I’m good,” she says, and reaches in her bag, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “You can eat while I interview you.”
“For what?”
“For the position of life coach,” she says with a sassy grin. I want to kiss that grin right off her face, but instead I take a bite of potato and gesture for her to begin.
“Okay, first question: What qualifications do you have that make you a good fit for this position?”
“Well, I have a few years on you, so I would say wisdom with age.”
She tilts her head to the side, the way she does when she’s turning something over in her head. “You can’t be that much older than me.”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“Seven years,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“A lot can happen in seven years,” I reply, and sip my water.
“Okay, I’ll give you that.” She checks something off on her paper.
“Did you really write down questions?”
“Of course. I’m the queen of lists and the roofer was at my house forever.” She bites her lip as she looks at her list. “How many women have you life-coached in the past?”
“Well, I didn’t have an official job title, but I have two younger sisters, and an ex-wife, so I would say three.”
“But the wife is an ex, so maybe that did go well?” Riley asks. “And are your sisters productive members of society?”
“As opposed to being in jail?” I ask, laughing. “You’re hilarious, Riley.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“My sisters are great. The older one is married, a stay-at-home mom with two kids, and the younger one is a waitress.”
“But the ex-wife thing didn’t work out.”
“She’s not a mess, we just both decided that she shouldn’t be my wife anymore.”
“Why?”
I sit back in my chair and wipe my mouth on my napkin. “Because she thought it was a good idea to have sex with other men.”
Her eyebrows climb on her forehead and she blinks twice. “That’s a good reason.”
“I thought so.”
“Okay, next question.” She checks something on her paper and looks up at me with a smile. “How do you intend to be compensated for your work?”
“I’m working pro bono,” I reply with a wink.
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to be here anyway, and why not.” I shrug and finish the food on my plate. “What else do you want to know?”
“Is my coming to a virtual stranger’s apartment by myself one of the bad decisions you should have coached me on?”
I smile and set my plate aside so I can lean on the table. “Did the girls tell you that coming here by yourself was a bad idea?”
“I only talked to Cami and she thought I should come. Plus, I have a concealed carry, so I feel pretty confident that I’m safe.”
I raise a brow and cross my arms over my chest. “You carry a gun with you?”
“Hell to the yes,” she replies, and offers me a sweet smile. “I’ve been meeting strange men on the Internet. You bet your ass I’ve been armed.”
“Good idea,” I reply with a nod. “There are a lot of crazies out there.”
“Yes. But I think that if you’re gonna meet a crazy, it could be anywhere. Online, in a bar, at the gas station. They’re everywhere.”
“That’s true too,” I reply, and nod. “Well, I’m glad you’re being cautious.”
“I’m nobody’s victim,” she says, as casually as if she’s telling me her shoe size.
That’s fucking sexy.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“Not really,” she says, and shrugs. “I didn’t really write anything down. But it was fun to interrogate you a bit.”
“Now I have questions,” I reply, and smile when she cocks her head and purses her lips. “Do you really think you need a life coach?”
“No, I have my shit together,” she says with a grin.
“Why were you really on all of those sites?”
She shrugs. “Because it’s not easy meeting people. And sometimes a girl wants to go out on a date.”
“You don’t need me,” I reply, and smile. “But I’ll be around for a while, just in case.”
“Just in case I slip and fall back into the online dating?”
“That, or if you just want to have dinner, or chat. And I think we should watch a marathon of Star Wars. Your lack of knowledge is cause for concern.”
“It’s kind of a guy thing,” she says.
“I know many women who like Star Wars.”
“Well, I would watch one or two.”
“You need to see them all to understand what’s happening.”
“That’s a lot of hours of my life that I’ll never get back,” she says with a frown. “Aren’t there CliffsNotes somewhere? A speedy way to get caught up?”
“No,” I reply, and fist my hands in my lap so I don’t reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.
Or yank her against me so I can kiss the fuck out of her.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Are you always this observant?”
“I’m an overthinker,” she says. “So yeah, I’m an observer.”
“I’ve been labeled an overthinker too,” I say with a grin.
“Would you say it’s an accurate assessment?”
“Oh yeah,” I say with a nod, and stand to clear our plates away. She stands to help. “I’ve got this.”
“No way, you cooked, so I’ll help clean.”
She walks ahead of me, her empty glass in one hand and her plate in the other. “Do you use the dishwasher, or do you wash by hand?”
“There are people who still wash by hand?”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen them in the wild,” she says, and smiles up at me when I join her. “So I guess that means we use the dishwasher?”
“Yes.” She rinses and I load, and a few short minutes later, we’re done.
“Well, I suppose I should go,” she says, and checks the time on her phone. “Oh, Cami texted. I guess I should reply so she doesn’t think you killed me after the entrée.”
She smirks and types on her phone, then turns it off and looks up at me.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Unfortunately, it won’t be in my bed.
“You will.”
“Okay.” She gathers her bag, notepad and pen, and walks to the door. “Sleep well tonight.”
I grin and congratulate myself for not dragging my fingertips down her cheek.
“You sleep well tonight, Riley.”
“Okay. Bye.”
She leaves and I close the door, letting out a slow breath. Jesus, she’s sexy and funny and smart as fuck.
And I’m not going to touch her while I’m here.
How the fuck am I going to do that?
About Kristen Proby:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.
Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.

Have you Pre-ordered THE HUNTING GROUNDS by Katee Robert yet?
“Katee Robert has definitely picked up the romantic suspense genre and made it her bitch. I can’t wait to see what we get next. Given some of the books I see she’s been using for research, I know it’s going to be frightening and amazing at the same time.”—Goodreads Review
Pre-order THE HUNTING GROUNDS and add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get an EXCLUSIVE sneak peek at THE HUNTING GROUNDS and to enter the giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card!
Title: The Hunting Grounds
Author: Katee Robert
Series: Hidden Sins #2
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: July 25, 2017
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Print Length: 318 pages
Format: Digital and Paperback
ISBN: 978-1503946705
Synopsis:
For two FBI agents with a past, love becomes a matter of life and death in the new Hidden Sins novel from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert.
Maggie Gaines used to be an FBI agent—top of her class and one of the bright, up-and-coming stars—until she spectacularly fell apart during her first high-profile case. That was eight years ago. Now she’s a ranger at Glacier National Park, and she’s found some measure of peace. But when the body of a murdered woman is discovered, she must finally put the past behind her and work with the one man she thought she’d never see again.
For months, Vic Sutherland has been hunting a killer who’s been targeting unsuspecting hikers in national parks—and now the predator has come to Glacier. Vic knows the case will bring him face-to-face with his former partner, yet nothing can prepare him for seeing Maggie again after all these years, or for the memories of passion it stirs in both of them.
As the investigation brings them closer together—and closer to the killer—Maggie and Vic fear they have only each other to trust. But even that might not be enough to make it out of Glacier alive.
Pre-order at:
Amazon: http://bit.ly/TheHuntingGroundsAmazon
B&N: http://bit.ly/TheHuntingGrounds
Enter to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card and eBook copies of THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER (Hidden Sins #1) from Katee Robert!
The Hunting Grounds Excerpt
Copyright © 2017 Katee Robert
Vic thought he was prepared. He wasn’t the type of man to spend too much effort worrying about what could possibly happen—it made more sense to deal with what did happen. He knew seeing Maggie again after all this time would be a shock, but they’d been partners for twelve months at best. There was no reason to think he couldn’t roll with this development the same way he rolled with every other.
Then he arrived at Goat Haunt ranger station. He followed Wyatt out of the chopper, using a hand to shield his face from the wind the blades created. The ranger station was set against Upper Waterton Lake, and with the mountains in the background, it could have been a scene out of a painting.
All of that paled in comparison to Maggie.
She looked good. Better than good. During her time as his partner, she’d been too thin, running on too little sleep and too much coffee, and her health had suffered as a result. Obviously being a park ranger agreed with her. The unfortunate uniform did nothing to hide how her curves had filled out, her body honed from the many hours of hauling around a pack similar to the one he now carried. Her hair was longer, too, the dark locks pulled back into a braid that hit just past her shoulders.
But she was still Maggie.
Even in the bright sunlight, he could see the way her dark eyes flashed as her shock wore off. And her nose, the only feature of hers that could never be termed pretty, was the same—long and slightly crooked from where it’d been broken in the FBI academy.
Maggie shook off her paralysis faster than he did. She frowned. “What are you doing here, Vic?”
“Agent Sutherland’s here for the murder.” Wyatt stepped forward, breaking what remained of the spell cast between them.
Rationally, Vic knew it had lasted seconds at most, but it felt like a small eternity. He struggled to put the past in the appropriate box to deal with when they weren’t on a case. When we aren’t on a case, I’ll leave . . . He shut the thought down. He had a duty to the victims, and letting himself get distracted by Maggie wasn’t going to find the unsub.
Even if Maggie was a bright, shining star in the midst of darkness.
He moved closer and slid off his pack. “Where’s the best place to talk?”
For a second, it looked like Maggie would pepper him with more questions, but she finally nodded. “This way.”
Praise for The Hidden Sins Series
“…a captivating read, made all the more rewarding when good triumphs.” —Washington Post
“Robert shows off her impressive versatility in this fast-paced and inventive new Hidden Sins series. The small-town setting is a masterful blend of quaint and oppressive, which ratchets the menace and thrill factor. The protagonists carry the full weight of their pasts with them, making their growing relationship as compelling as the mystery element in The Devil’s Daughter. With plenty of twists and betrayals, this is a book that is sure to earn Robert a wealth of new fans.” —RT Book Reviews
Other Books in the Hidden Sin Series
THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER
Get More information at: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble
About Katee Robert
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it ‘a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension.” When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram

Down in Whynot, NC, there are three things that hold true: 1) life moves just a little bit slower, 2) family means everything, and 3) you don’t mess with history.
The booming sound coming from downstairs causes me to sit straight up on the mattress that is placed in the middle of the master bedroom floor. I’ve yet to get a good night’s sleep because there’s a damn train that runs parallel to the town. It’s just two blocks over from the Mainer House, and it feels the need to blow its whistle around two AM each morning. This isn’t that big of a deal to most of the residents of the small town of Whynot, but to me… it chafes just a little because, well… I love my sleep.
I’ve been assured by the nice lady who runs Sweet Cakes, the bakery right across the street from Mainer House, that I’ll get used to it, but I seriously doubt it. Even the noise of New York City never penetrated my sleep the way a train whistle does, and I get a totally empathetic look from her when I stagger in for some coffee and a cheese Danish each morning.
I think I’ve slipped into a pattern at night where I now anticipate being woken up by that stupid train, so I’m not even able to get into good REM sleep. It’s probably why I shot straight up in bed at the banging that’s going on downstairs, although I can’t quite pinpoint from where it’s coming. A glance at the alarm clock sitting on the floor shows it’s 5:30 AM. It’s still dark outside, and I’m slightly—okay, greatly—confused. I struggle to process since it’s been almost two weeks since I came to Whynot and I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep since then.
Then it penetrates… someone’s at my front door.
Banging.
At 5:30 AM.
Immediate anger flows through my veins, heating me up from within. Without any further consternation, I know it’s Lowe Mancinkus causing all that noise. It must be him because there’s no one else in the entire world who has ever been such a thorn in my side.
Flipping the blanket back, I roll off the mattress and wince as my knees hit the floor. Almost three decades of sleeping on a mattress, box spring, and a frame, and I can’t get used to being only a few inches off the floor. I’ve held off on buying any furniture for the house until the remodeling is complete.
Pushing first to my hands and knees, I manage to lurch upright and stagger out of the bedroom. Down the rotund, sweeping staircase to the main floor. I don’t even bother to look out the leaded glass panels on either side of the heavy wooden door—so convinced I am that it’s Lowe on the other side—that I fling it open without an ounce of worry.
“What in the holy hell are you doing?” I snarl as the breeze generated from the doorway swinging open so fast actually blows my hair back.
Lowe stands there in mid-bang, fist raised high and a diabolical glitter to his eyes. His eyes lock onto mine for just a moment before they drop and casually run down the length of my frame. I look down at myself and cringe as I realize I’m still in my pajamas, which in the sweltering South consists of a cotton tank top and sleep shorts that are really short. My hand falls from the doorknob, and I cross my arms over my chest as Lowe looks back up at me.
And why does he have to be so damned gorgeous? In ordinary circumstances, this man pushes all my girlie buttons. Tall, just enough muscle to be strong but not freakish, and that dark chocolate hair with bright hazel eyes that are every woman’s fantasy. I always have to remind myself he’s a nasty SOB who I wouldn’t give the time of day to… in ordinary circumstances, that is.
“I’m here to start work,” he says casually as he pushes past me into the main foyer.
“It’s five-freaking-thirty in the morning,” I grit out, not moving from the open doorway. I expect him to be walking right back out again.
Instead, he ignores me and moves down a wide hall beside the staircase that goes to the kitchen. With a growl of frustration, I slam the door shut and then stomp off after him. “It’s completely rude to show up here at this hour.”
He doesn’t respond and as I turn the corner into the kitchen, I find him rummaging through the cupboards. “Where’s the coffee?”
“I don’t have any,” I snap at his backside since he hasn’t bothered to give me a second glance since he barged in. “And I don’t like you ignoring me any more than I like you barging into my house.”
“Get some decent clothes on, and I wouldn’t be forced to look through your cupboards for nonexistent coffee,” he replies calmly, moving onto the next cabinet even though I’ve told him I have no coffee.
In fact, I have hardly anything at all here. A mattress, pillow, sheets, and blanket in the bedroom, some orange juice in the fridge, and towels in the master bathroom. Those are the only creature comforts at this point, and they’re enough to get me through the remodeling. I’ve been eating out almost every meal and this is not a hardship as that’s pretty much what I do when I’m back home in New York. One, however, can only eat so many grits and collards, although I’ll take them over fatback and pickled pigs feet any day.
“I would like to remind you…” I say in a voice that comes off far too rancid and nowhere in control. “That this is my house. I can wear whatever I like to bed, with the assumption I won’t have visitors until a decent hour.”
“I’m not a visitor,” he points out, back still to me. “But because you couldn’t take a little joke and had to run crying to Judge Bowe, I now have to work for you. I also have to keep my own business running, which means I have to work early and late. You need to suck it up, buttercup. This is your life for the next few months.”

Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett.
A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea.
When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.


Vivi Renard—a blast from the past—wasn’t supposed to affect me like this.
When I knew her ten years ago she was nothing more to me than a highly functioning brain.
Hell, I paid her to do my homework.
Only now … she’s drop dead gorgeous but had the nerve to turn me down for a date … several times.
No one turns me—Prescott Beckham—down for anything.
I’m on a mission and won’t stop until I’m firmly planted between her thighs, hearing her moan my name.
Her plump red lips have me dreaming filthy things and acting like a kid with his first crush.
If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else to either.
What’s worse is I want to own every single bit of her.
Except there’s a slight problem.
Vivi can’t stand me.
Even the old let’s be friends again thing failed.
She tossed it back saying we were never friends to begin with.
But I’m the king at playing ruthless games.
So she’d better be ready to drop her thong, because Vivi is going to end up in my bed sooner … or later.
And I’m pretty damn sure it’s going to be sooner.
Vivi rubs her hands on her thighs. She’s nervous and has been ever since I stood over the table. She seems to have more confidence in herself now than she had when I knew her but that doesn’t account for her skittishness. Back at Crestview, she had been overweight—I knew that—only I didn’t know, or maybe I didn’t pay attention, to the other girls giving her a hard time. And why should I have? I had so much going on in my head I could barely keep my own shit together.
“So?” I prod. “Homework binder?”
“You did a pretty good job with me. I only figured you put the other girls in the same boat. You know, with the homework stuff and all.”
“I had you wrapped around my homework binder at Crestview. That’s your metaphor for finger.”
It’s not a question. I’m baffled because I had no idea. Yeah, I was a flirt, but I flirted with everyone to get what was necessary. It was the only way I knew how to accomplish my goals. She needed the money and always acted like she had no interest in me whatsoever.
“Of course. You had everyone wrapped around your finger. Well, maybe more of them were wrapped around your, um.” She points in the direction of my dick.
Sexy little Vivi can’t say dick out loud. Isn’t that the cutest thing in the world?
“Say it, Vivi.”
“Say what?”
“You know what.” I lean into her and get close to her lips. “Say it.”
Her chest puffs out as she says, “Dick.” Her lovely neck flushes pink and two bright spots of fuchsia dot her cheeks. This is sweet innocence at its utmost.
“Excellent. Now say cock.” I put a great deal of emphasis on the “c” and “k” at the end of the word. Silver gray irises turn stormy and deep creases form on her forehead.
“Why would you want me to say that word?”
“Because it makes you uncomfortable as hell and I’m an asshole. I like to see you squirm, Vivi.”
“I won’t say that. It has nothing to do with truth or dare. And besides, it’s my turn.”
I take a couple of good slugs of my drink, sit back, and cross my arms. “Do your worst.”
She puts an elbow on the table and rests her cheek on her hand. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” It’s impossible not to laugh at her comical expression. I curtailed her plans.
“You can’t do that!”
“Do what?”
“Pick dare.”
“I most certainly can.”
Her head tilts back, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. A chuckle escapes.
“You’re a jerk,” she says.
“So I’ve been told.”
“Okay, then. I dare you to tell me why you loathe the man you’ve become.” She gloats at the clever way she’s twisted the game. And stupid me should’ve figured out she’d come up with something like this. Vivi was always brilliant.
“Loathe is extreme. Let’s say I’m not particularly fond of who I am right now.”
“Fine. Go on.”
Now I’m the one who’s squirming. Where do I even begin? Vivi is almost a stranger to me. There’s no way I can bare my pathetic soul to her.
“I have daddy issues.”
“Really?” Her question is one of disbelief and she appears to be holding back a laugh.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Um, yeah. Prescott Beckham, the guy with the world at his fingertips, has daddy issues? I think not. I Googled you after I ran into you that day. From all accounts I read there were no daddy issues to be found. Nada. Try again.”
“I have a team that keeps my secrets out of the media. You wouldn’t find anything on me. But it’s true. I grew up without a mom and my father was not much of one. So, there you have it.” I give her one of my best smirks. It usually does the trick on most women.
She leans back and tucks her chin closer to her body. “That’s it? And I’m supposed to buy that?”
“That’s all I have for sale, Little Wolf. Sorry.”
“You’re not a very fair player.”
“My turn.”
“Nope. I’m done.” She drinks another swig of her beer.
“No, you aren’t. I’m picking for you. Truth. How many men have you fucked, Vivi? And what exactly have they done to you?”
She shoves her arms into her coat and pushes at me to get out of the booth. But I have zero intentions of going anywhere. “Let me out, Prescott.”
“Not until you answer me.”
“That’s none of your business. How many women have you been with?”
“Too many to count.”
Her jaw flops open and I close her mouth with a finger under her chin.
“You asked, Little Wolf.”

(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
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Chasing Vivi is a second chance, frenemies to lovers to romance.
Vivi and Prescott went to Crestview together where they really weren’t friends but they also didn’t hate one another – they knew of each other. One thing neither expected was to run into the other in their later years of life.
Vivienne Renard was known to all as the smart, fat girl at their private school. She dealt with constant bullying and hated every day of attending school. But she did it for her mom – she never complained because of how much her mom worked to keep Vivi there.
Prescott Beckham was the rich, hot boy in their private school. Girls flocked to him and he never really have to lift a finger to get anything done. The most he had to do was pay Vivi to do his homework so he wouldn’t flunk out.
Years later, Prescott runs into Vivi at her work, where he is floored by what he sees. Vivi looks and acts nothing like herself from their high school days. She is confident, beautiful and tells Prescott to pretty much fuck off. And that doesn’t do anything but light the fire under Prescott’s because well, he’s never been told no.
I really enjoyed this story – the ugly ducking turning into a beautiful swan. But it’s not just about that. Vivi never once uses her new found beauty as a tool to use in her favor. It’s her head-strong demeanor that keeps Prescott’s attention more than anything. She challenges him in ways he’s never expected. Vivi makes Prescott want to be a better person; however he himself has some obstacles to overcome.
Vivi and Prescott both have their own issues to work through. I love watching them both grow and have these epiphanies of how immature and dumb they are acting at times. It really makes the book relatable and the characters more realistic. I will say that this story is a slow burn, but it doesn’t deter or make you want to stop. You enjoy the progression of watching these two grow and fall in love, slowly, like it should be.
A.M. has always been able to make her stories come to life and that is why I enjoy her books so much. So if you have never read anything by her, this is definitely a book you should read and see what I mean.
One day on her way home from work as a sales manager, USA Today bestselling author, A. M. Hargrove, realized her life was on fast-forward. If she didn’t do something soon, it would be too late to write that novel she had dreamt of her whole life. She slammed on the brakes, made a crazy decision, and quit her job. Then she reinvented herself as a Naughty and Nice Romance Author.
She fancies herself all of the following: Reader, Writer, Dark Chocolate Lover, Ice Cream Worshipper, Coffee Drinker, Grey Goose Aficionado, and #WalterThePuppy Lover. If you’re around her for more than five minutes, you’ll soon notice she has a tendency to talk you ear off.

Website: http://www.amhargrove.com
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Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/A.M.-Hargrove/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5338829.A_M_Hargrove



Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Whoever coined that phrase is a bald-faced liar. Words are often the sharpest weapon of all, triggering some of the most powerful emotions a human can experience.
“You’re pregnant.”
“It’s a boy.”
“Your son needs a heart transplant.”
Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.
Lies.
Syllables and letters may not be tangible, but they can still destroy your entire life faster than a bullet from a gun.
Two words—that was all it took to extinguish the sun from my sky.
“He’s gone.”
For ten years, the darkness consumed me.
In the end, it was four deep, gravelly words that gave me hope of another sunrise.
“Hi. I’m Porter Reese.”
Add The Darkest Sunrise to Goodreads

5+++++++ Stars
So I am a bit slow when it came to discovering Aly – I only started reading her books this year, but she is quickly becoming one of my go-to authors. And this book just adds to the reasons why she is amazing.
The Darkest Sunrise is the book one of duet and I am so glad that I do not have to wait too long for the second book to release to read the ending of this heart wrenching story. I knew that I would be getting into an emotional read, but I had no idea how much my heart would hurt. Aly has this way with her writing that puts you right there in the heat of everything; you feel as though you are living the characters’ lives.
“No questions. No judgments. No faking it.”
Charlotte is broken – so broken that she can’t be fixed; there’s nothing left of her to repair. Until she meets Porter.
Porter himself has some broken pieces but he’s been able to find the silver lining in life. He’s been able to fix a part of himself but he still understands what it like to have your heart torn apart. I love Porter’s tenacity and his unstoppable personality. He’s one a kind.
Both Porter and Charlotte’s stories are crippling and gut wrenching. I can’t imagine ever being in their shoes. And yes, I am going to make you read what they’ve both gone through because to give any parts of this story away, will take away from the whole story. I did have a few ideas about the cliff hanger and one of them was it, I was still left with a gaping hole in my chest because of how well Aly wrote not only the ending, but this book
“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” ~ Pablo Picasso
This is one book that you must read this year!! And please bring tissues and alcohol to get you through this.



Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her four young children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys cheap wine, mystery leggings, and baked feta. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a super-sized tumbler of wine by her side.
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