Moonlight & Whiskey
Publication date: March 12th 2019
Genres: Adult, Erotica, Romance
“Super sexy! Against a sensual New Orleans backdrop, Moonlight & Whiskey follows a woman’s journey toward acceptance of her body and herself.”—Helen Hoang, author of The Kiss Quotient
When life gives you curves, you gotta learn how to rock them.
Successful businesswoman Avery Barrows likes her dips and curves, but she’s sick of the haters telling her that she should be ashamed of her body instead of embracing it. Determined to send them a big f*** you, Avery resolves to cut loose during a girls’ trip, hightailing her quick-mouthed, plus-sized self to New Orleans. So, what’s a smart woman with a little extra gotta do to get laid in this town?
Not much if you ask Declan McGinn, the lead singer of BlackSmith. Tall, dark, and tattooed, with a body made for sin, Declan prefers his women as curvy as his guitars. Avery’s sharp tongue and keen mind makes him want her even more.
As they burn up the sheets, Avery and Declan realize this is no one-night (or even one-week) stand. But for all of her bluster, Avery isn’t sure she can handle any more rejection. Besides, Declan has demons of his own. Now Avery has a choice to make: play it safe, or place her trust in the hands of a man who’s as tempting as the devil himself.
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I shifted my weight and winced at the stab of pain that traveled around my ankle. The hot guy who’d mowed me down looked me over with concern etched onto his face.
“You all right, Avery?” Kat rounded my side.
“Shit. I hurt you.” Calloused hands covered my arms again and I jolted as a whipcrack of electricity rode down my spine and goose bumps raced over my shoulders.
Christ, I liked his hands on me.
“I think I twisted my ankle a bit is all.” I hoped to God he hadn’t seen the heat creeping over my cheeks.
He squatted down and felt around my ankle joint; my nerve endings started to hum with enough current to light up The Quarter. When he brushed a thumb over the sensitive skin on the inside of my ankle, heat washed through me and an ache kindled to life low in my abdomen. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, closed my eyes trying to get a grip.
“It doesn’t look bruised. Maybe a little swollen, though. I’m gonna lift your foot up.”
I lurched forward, grabbing his solid shoulders, and immediately had the urge to run my hands over their width, so broad and defined, warm and heavy under my palms. More heat, more ache, as I struggled with the impulse to run my fingers around to his nape and through the jet-black stubble shorn tight to his scalp.
Get a grip, Avery.
“You should put some ice on it to be safe.” He set my foot down, looked up with piercing eyes, and a new rush of dirty images flooded my overactive imagination. Slowly, he stood, giving me time to regain my balance, and my fingers grazed over his chest.
I thought I heard an intake of breath, but I was too busy looking at the tiny nipples pearled against his shirt. “Um, thanks. Not for the sprain, for the advice.”
“You guys staying here?”
“Nope. We just like to hang out in hotel lobbies hoping random guys will hit us up for a double team.”
Eyes wide, his mouth fell open before a grin stretched over his lush lips.
Kat snorted, tried to stifle a giggle.
“Yes, we’re staying here, and that was a joke. I don’t do my girlfriends.” I was babbling. Great.
“That’s . . . kind of a shame, but good to know.” There was a shocked sort of delight on his face. Something told me surprising this guy was no easy task. He looked like the kind of dude who had done it all and posted bail. “Avery, right? Let me take you to dinner to make up for this.” He nodded at my ankle.
WHAT? Oh, of course. He didn’t want a date. He just felt guilty. Because dude was fuck-all hot and waaaay out of my league. I couldn’t help the disappointment that swept through my stomach. But God that voice––I savored the sound of my name on his lips and tried not to show how it affected me.
“Thanks, umm . . .”
“Thanks, Declan, but that’s not necessary. It was an accident and I shouldn’t have popped off so fast. Really, it’s no big deal.” I heard Kat actually “eek.” When I cut a glance her way, she was intently studying the leaves of the fake ficus next to us.
“C’mon. Let me take you to dinner, Avery. It’s the least I can do.” Head cocked to the side with a challenging grin pulling at his lips, he crossed thick arms over his chest and his shirt raised enough that I could see the tops of those muscles that really hot guys always had at their hips. The ones that point at their junk like the sign over the entrance to the roller coaster at Six Flags that said, “Come Ride the Texas Giant!”
My eyes closed with an extended blink and I bit the inside of my cheek as I tried to get a grip.
“No, really––” I started.
“Yes! She’d love to go!” Kat cut in, nearly squealing.
Declan slid her a quick wink, then his emerald green eyes danced with laughter as he met mine.
“We have a reservation this evening, remember?” I shot daggers at her with my eyes.
“Actually, this is perfect. I wanted to meet a grad school friend for dinner, but she was only free tonight. You guys can take the reservation instead.”
“Kat,” I warned through clenched teeth. I didn’t need this guy’s pity.
“When’s the reservation?” Declan asked her, but his eyes stayed on me.
“Seven at Grand’Mère. Do you know it?”
He whistled. “Yeah.”
I exhaled, met green eyes that held a hint of challenge. If I backed down now, I’d feel like a coward. My badass turned up then and started beating at the insides of my chest, demanding I meet his challenge.
Fuck it. “Yeah, why not?” The words slipped through my mouth without further thought.
Tricia Lynne is fluent in both sarcasm and cuss words, and has little filter between her brain and mouth–a combination that tends to embarrass her husband at corporate functions. A tomboy at heart, she loves hard rock, Irish whiskey, and her Midwestern roots.
She’s drawn to strong, flawed heroines, and believes writing isn’t a decision one makes, but a calling one can’t resist. She lives in Dallas ‘burbs with her husband and a rescued Cane Corso.
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