I’m usually on the “don’t judge a book by its cover” side, but in this case, I think we totally should! Look at all that gorgeousness and intensity!!!
Tony will sweep you off your feet with his devotion to mending Bree’s heart and making her his own. Bree definitely keeps Tony on his toes. She will have you cracking up while she makes Tony work for it.
Action, suspense, sexiness and family drama will keep you hooked and turning pages in Ms. Rivers’s debut novel, Whiskey Home.
You can preorder Whiskey Home now, and it will be available through Kindle Unlimited.
Beautiful. Strong. Broken.
That’s how I see my best friend’s sister.
I promised to protect her.
I certainly didn’t plan to fall in love.
So I held back.
Now there’s a murderer loose in my county, and she may be his next target.
Not on my watch.
She doesn’t know it yet, but when this is over, she’s here to stay.
That is if I can keep her alive.
Unlovable. Unworthy. Unwanted.
I’m not one of them—my family made that clear.
So I made a life for myself a thousand miles away.
But now I have to go back, and he’s determined I stay for good.
I don’t care that my lips still tingle from that kiss he gave me.
Or that I’ve been in love with him since I was a child.
My family broke my heart, but he has the power to shatter it.
No way am I sticking around for that.
There’s nothing but heartache for me in Whiskey Falls
“Flirting With Disaster” blares from my car speakers, interrupting my favorite murder mystery podcast. I cut my eyes to my phone, confirming what I already know. A zing of anticipation flutters through my belly, which isn’t a good thing.
I chant to myself, “Suck it up, woman. You are strong. You are empowered. You will not get drawn in by the super sexy Tony Kane. You’ve got this.”
Then I answer. “Hey, Tony. What’s up?”
“My day was shit.” His deep, husky voice surrounds me, and I curse myself for springing for the premium sound system when I bought my Camaro. “Tell me you’ve got some crazy story from work to brighten it up.”
As a sheriff’s investigator, a bad day for him means off-the-charts bad. Like dead body bad. Or sex trafficker bad.
So even though I’m actively trying—and failing—to avoid him, it’s my duty to cheer him up. And boy, do I have a wackadoodle story to tell him.
“Two words. Squirrel Sex,” I say.
He chuckles. “Did you say squirrel sex?”
“Yep. You wanted a crazy story, and this one fits the bill.” I smile in anticipation of his reaction to my latest work craziness. “Right before closing time, I got a frantic call from a tenant at the Copperwood building. Seems the squirrels are sexing it up in the attic, right above her desk. She was so freaked out, I swear I could hear her pearls clacking from how hard she must have been clutching them as she haughtily informed me she’s not that kind of lady.”
His laugh is deep and rich, a rare treat akin to winning the lottery and a lifetime achievement award at the same time.
“She really told you she wasn’t that kind of lady?” he asks, his voice incredulous.
I love it when I can shock Mr. Seen-It-All-Done-It-All Kane.
“She sure did.” I pour on the Southern accent. “Seems she’s a proper lady, and that kind of behavior won’t stand, even from poor little squirrels just doing what God and Mother Nature intended.”
Another chuckle comes through the speakers. Well, shit. Maybe I poured it on too thick.
“Watch it, beautiful. You know what happens when you talk Southern to me.” His voice drops, and the sound travels all the way down to my good parts.
As hard as it is to ignore all that, I gamely go on. “It was hilarious. And now I’ve got a burning desire to Google the sex practices of squirrels. I mean, do they have little squirrel orgies, or is it a one-on-one thing? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I gotta say, I’ve studied a lot of subjects, but the sexual habits of squirrels isn’t one of them. What does she expect you to do? Throw them some condoms and tell them to get a room?”
This is why I’ve wanted him for years. He’s not just a sexy package—no, he’s funny and smart, too. It’s just not fair.
Because I’m a masochist, I go for another one of those super sexy chuckles. “I’ve decided we need to change the elevator music in the lobby to The Best of Barry White.”
Another laugh. Score!
“Anyway, she told me if this wasn’t fixed by Monday, she’d be calling ‘my superior.’ I’m almost hoping they can’t break up the festivities so I can see Bill’s reaction when she calls. He’s gonna love this one.”
“Jesus. Makes me glad I don’t have to deal with those kinds of ‘sensibilities’ up here. How the hell do you put up with that crap?”
“Eh. I’d rather deal with squirrel sex than the sewer backup that happened before I even got my first cup of coffee this morning.” I shudder at the memory. No one should have to deal with sewer anything before they’ve been properly caffeinated.
“Move home, and you’ll never have to deal with that shit again.”
I sigh loudly enough to make my point without saying a word. It doesn’t matter I spent every summer and school vacation there for the first eighteen years of my life, Whiskey Falls, Wisconsin is not my home and never will be
“Did I lose you?” he asks, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Must have hit a dead spot,” I cover.
We chat a bit more before he tells me he has to go track someone down. When he hangs up, I’m torn between feeling sad he’s gone and relief that the call is over.
Tony is my brother’s best friend, and I’ve crushed on him since I was old enough to realize I didn’t care if boys had cooties. For Tony, I’d risk getting infected. Not that he ever gave me any signs indicating those feelings went both ways. Until a year and a half ago, that is.
Tony and Erick, my big brother, joined the army at the same time and left it at the same time, too. I’d made one of my rare trips back for their welcome home party. I should’ve kept my ass in Arkansas because it was after that party he kissed me. I wish I could say it sucked, but nope, it was the best kiss of my life.
See, no matter how much it rocked my world, Tony Kane is not for me and never will be. If I start something with him, he’ll eventually walk away. Everyone does. It’s hard to admit, but there’s something about me that makes it easy to leave me. It is what it is, and I’ve learned to expect it so I can minimize the hurt. But this is Tony. I don’t think I’d ever get over the heartbreak of having him and then losing him. Which means I can’t go there. Ever. It’s pure self-preservation on my part.
So I did what any self-respecting woman does when faced with that kind of thing. As soon as the kiss was over, I shoved him out the door and slammed it on him. I’ve been trying to avoid him ever since.
Not that he’s let me get away with it. He hasn’t tried to kiss me again, but he calls often and sends funny texts. Even worse, when my brother comes to visit, Tony always tags along. Sheriff’s investigators must have unlimited amounts of vacation time because I swear, every time I turn around, he’s at my house, drinking my beer while looking sexy as hell and driving me crazy.
And he takes advantage of every opportunity to give me subtle little intimate touches to my hands, my arms, my back, even my neck. Nothing that can’t be called perfectly innocent, unless you’ve had a kiss like that kiss. Now each touch is a torturous trip back to that moment and the memory of what can’t happen again.
Sometimes I still feel the tingle of it on my lips. Which sucks, because not only will no man ever measure up to Tony, I’ll never get another kiss like that. But none of that matters. Pining over him is nothing but future heartbreak in the making for me.
I suspect it’ll be awhile before he and Erick show again since they were here a couple weeks ago. At least, that’s my hope.
My stomach growls, reminding me of my empty cupboards, so I pull through the drive-through of my favorite sandwich shop before pointing my beloved Camaro home where a good book and a full bottle of wine await me.
A quiet night is just what the doctor ordered. I hope the world is kind enough to let it happen.
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