HERE FRIDAY
7 PM PST.
LAURA TRENTHAM
AUTHOR OF:
Ella Boudreaux has a lot to prove to her family, friends, and foes—and to herself. So when her marriage ends she decides to invest her energy and money into a place that brings back some of Ella’s happiest memories: the Abbott brothers’ garage. Maybe, if she puts her mind to it, she can teach skeptical, stubborn Mack Abbott how to make the business a true success. Which would be a lot easier if the hunky mechanic didn’t make her motor run quite so fast…and hot.
Mack was furious when his brother, Ford, sold his share of the business. He’s in no rush to team up with a wealthy divorcée who shows up to the garage in stilettos—and the longest, sexiest legs he’s seen in forever. But Ella’s grit and determination won’t quit…and soon Mack can see that she’s been down a few rough roads herself. Neither Mack nor Ella can deny the fierce attraction that’s revving up between them. Could it be that true love has been in the back seat all along…and they’ve finally found the key?
“Yes, you do.”
“No, we don’t.” The playground-level annoyance continued with his childish denials.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, probably not helping to diffuse the situation.
“Name your price.”
“That’s not how this is going to work, Mack.”
“I say how things are run and done in this garage. Not you, Ms. Boudreaux.”
“I have a quarter stake and an equal voice.”
“Except, we handle things democratically around here and my brothers will have my back. Every. Single. Time.”
Dangit. He had her there. Pushing against Mack was like trying to move a mountain. She glanced at the twins. If she couldn’t move Mack, then she’d have to go around him. She wanted to stalk out and slam the door but forced herself to mosey as if she wasn’t bothered at all by the situation or the man. He followed her to the door. She stopped with one foot out and one in. The breeze caught her hair, and she tossed her head to get it out of her eyes.
“You might vote me down, but at least give me a chance to be heard.”
“Name your price,” he repeated in a growly, grizzly voice that was meant to grind down her dissension.
Where she found the gumption she didn’t know, but she gave his cheek two pats and said, “You can’t afford me, tough guy.”
BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/set-the-night-on-fire-laura-trentham/1127802341?ean=9781250131317
GooglePlay: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Laura_Trentham_Set_the_Night_on_Fire?id=-PRFDwAAQBAJ
Love, betrayal, and sweet revenge—life in Cottonbloom is about to get a whole lot hotter . . .
Sutton Mize is known for lavishing attention on the customers who flock to her boutique on the wealthy side of her Mississippi town. So, when she finds a lace thong in her fiancé’s classic cherry-red Camaro, she knows just who she sold it to: her own best friend. In an instant, Sutton’s whole world goes up in flames. . .
Wyatt Abbott has harbored a crush on Sutton since he was a young kid from the other side of the tracks. He witnessed Sutton’s shocking discovery in the Camaro at his family-owned garage—and it made him angry. What kind of man could take lovely, gorgeous Sutton for granted? But then Sutton comes up with an idea: Why not give her betrothed a taste of his own medicine and pretend that she’s got a lover of her own? Wyatt is more than happy to play the hot-and-heavy boyfriend. But what begins as a fictional affair soon develops into something more real, and more passionate, than either Sutton or Wyatt could have imagined. Could it be that true love has been waiting under the hood all along?
Sutton Mize is known for lavishing attention on the customers who flock to her boutique on the wealthy side of her Mississippi town. So, when she finds a lace thong in her fiancé’s classic cherry-red Camaro, she knows just who she sold it to: her own best friend. In an instant, Sutton’s whole world goes up in flames. . .
Wyatt Abbott has harbored a crush on Sutton since he was a young kid from the other side of the tracks. He witnessed Sutton’s shocking discovery in the Camaro at his family-owned garage—and it made him angry. What kind of man could take lovely, gorgeous Sutton for granted? But then Sutton comes up with an idea: Why not give her betrothed a taste of his own medicine and pretend that she’s got a lover of her own? Wyatt is more than happy to play the hot-and-heavy boyfriend. But what begins as a fictional affair soon develops into something more real, and more passionate, than either Sutton or Wyatt could have imagined. Could it be that true love has been waiting under the hood all along?
Sutton’s hand found Wyatt’s like a magnet finding its mate, and she knitted their fingers together. Music drifted through the trees. Not the haunting melodies from Delmar Fournette’s mandolin, but country music from the speakers of someone’s truck.
“You know how to two-step?” Wyatt asked.
“No, but I learned how to waltz and foxtrot during cotillion, a lot of good that does me.”
Wyatt tugged her into a faster walk. “I’ll teach you.
“No way. Not in front of everyone. I’ll look like an idiot.” She pulled at his arm, but inertia was on his side.
“That’s your fear talking. Come on and take a chance on me.”
Even though he was talking about something as simple as a dance, the moment felt like a tipping point. Fearful or brave? Which did she choose?
She quit fighting and let him lead her into the circle of light. A handful of couples danced, but a majority of the partiers hung around the edges talking and watching. Before her feet could mount a rebellion and retreat, Wyatt spun her around and put a firm hand on her upper back, holding her other hand in a typical dance hold.
“The two-step is simple. Four steps, two quick, two slow. I step forward on my left, and you step back on your right. Okay?”
She made an affirmative sounding hum and tried to assimilate what he was saying, but heat streaked across her back where his hand branded her. All the eyes fixed on them didn’t help her concentration.
He counted them off, and she made it two steps before screwing up. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can’t do it.”
“You’re acting like this is worse than a firing squad. What are you thinking about?”
“Amoebas.”
He gave a slight shake of his head before bursting out in chesty laughter that sent vibrations through his hold to her. “Dare I ask why?”
“I feel like we’re being examined like reproducing amoebas through a microscope.”
“If I recall my high school biology, amoebas are asexual. I’m not. Forget about everyone else and look at me.”
She focused on his face. The flickering fire set gold sparking in his gray eyes, and since he’d invited her to, she let her gaze linger on all his features, but especially his mouth. His lips were mouthing “quick-quick-slow-slow,” and she dabbed her bottom lip with her tongue, remembering what they’d felt like against hers.
“You’re dancing.” His sweet, sexy lips turned up in a smile.
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