THE BARTENDER is an upcoming sexy romantic comedy written by two established, well-known authors who have decided to come together to bring you something sexy and fun with hot heroes and quirky heroines.
Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun? Full of sexy, laugh out loud moments that go well beyond one night between the sheets. Check out a HOT SNEAK PEEK! This is one read you will not want to miss in the new year so be sure to add to your TBR!
Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun? Full of sexy, laugh out loud moments that go well beyond one night between the sheets. Check out a HOT SNEAK PEEK! This is one read you will not want to miss in the new year so be sure to add to your TBR!
I take a step into the hallway as heat races up into my neck and face. I must be the color of an overripe tomato right now.
Cole’s jaw is clenched and his forehead is creased. I’m able to really look at him now. He’s clean-shaven this time around and dressed in an expensive-looking charcoal suit with an azure silk tie. He sure as hell cleans up well. In no way does he remind me of the laid-back, working man I met in the bar. Tonight, he oozes sophistication and fits right in with the rest of the country-clubbers circulating the room outside this hallway comparing their bank accounts.
He pushes off the wall he was leaning against and takes a couple of steps toward me, his body rigid and tense.
Lennon, that bitch, doesn’t even stick around to be my wingwoman. Instead she slinks off down the hall back to the party.
“My apologies if the other night wasn’t memorable for you. It makes things difficult when you’re working with a lush.”
So, this is how we’re going to play this? Sure thing. I’ve got years of pent-up anger and resentment toward this man and he doesn’t even know it.
Let’s do this.
“Maybe I felt the need to be intoxicated in order to get through it.”
He gives me such a condescending laugh that I now know beyond all doubt that I must have been very handsy that night. Damn whiskey. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He leans in a little closer to me and I can smell his expensive cologne. “You were begging me for it.”
I let my hands drop and clench them at my sides. “You lied.”
His eyebrows arch up. “Excuse me?”
“You lied.”
The crease in his forehead deepens. “How did I lie?”
“You let me believe that you were just a bartender.”
“Who’s to say I’m not just a bartender?” He clenches that stupid strong jaw of his.
“You’re Cole fucking Webber.”
He closes the few inches between us and the smell of his cologne hits me and I fight not to let my eyes flutter closed. He’s so close that I have to crank my neck back to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please. Is this the part where you play the poor, misunderstood rich boy? I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” he practically growls.
“I know you have zero regard for anyone else’s feelings. You’re used to taking what you want when you want it. You toss people aside when you feel like it and to hell with them.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and uses his thumb and finger to rub the bridge of his nose. “Are you on some kind of medication or something? Because you’re making zero fucking sense.”
Of course, I’m not making any sense. He wouldn’t remember me, but how could I forget him?
“Had I known who you really were I wouldn’t have let you get within ten feet of me.”
A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth before he leans down and says right into my ear, “Now, now, Whit.” He pronounces the ’t’ at the end of my name extra hard to exaggerate the fact that he’s using my nickname. “We both know it wouldn’t have mattered who I was that night. You were looking for some cock. I was happy to give it to you and you were more than happy to receive it.”
I suck in a startled gasp. “You’re exaggerating,” I say in a breathy voice that does nothing to back up my argument.
He chuckles, the sensation of his breath on my neck and ear causing shivers to race down my arm. Thankfully, he moves back and gives me some room. Unthankfully, his hazel eyes bore into me like lasers and I’m unable to look away. “Not exaggerating, no.” He shakes his head. “What was it you called mine when you grabbed it? Oh, yeah. Unicorn cock. I still don’t understand the reference, but I do know it must mean I have one magical cock.”
I’m going to go ahead and blame Lennon here for even putting unicorns in my head with that stupid van of hers. And Jesus, would he stop saying ‘cock’ already? It’s an aphrodisiac when it comes from his mouth and I’m doing my best to remember that I am no longer allowed to be attracted to this man.
I clench my teeth for a full minute and just stare at him and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Before I can think of a scathing response Chase comes sauntering down the hallway toward the restrooms. “You guys look like you’re in the middle of an intense conversation,” he says.
I turn my gaze away from Cole and look to Chase and smile.
“Whitney was just telling me how fond she is of unicorns,” Cole says with a straight face.
My cheeks burn, but I don’t take the bait.
“Have you seen Lennon’s van lately?” Chase asks me. “You should take a ride in that thing if you’re a fan of unicorns.” He laughs.
“Have you ridden a unicorn before, Whit?” Cole asks. If I weren’t so irritated with the man right now I’d almost call his smile playful, but since I am irritated I’m going to go ahead and describe it as provoking.
With a saccharine smile, I respond. “I think I have. Hard to say really. It must not have been as memorable as you’d expect.”
And with that comment I head off down the hall with an exaggerated sway to my hips, because if I still want Cole Webber after everything he did to me all those years ago, and everything I know about him, I’m going to make doubly sure he feels the same.
Misery does love company, after all.
Cole’s jaw is clenched and his forehead is creased. I’m able to really look at him now. He’s clean-shaven this time around and dressed in an expensive-looking charcoal suit with an azure silk tie. He sure as hell cleans up well. In no way does he remind me of the laid-back, working man I met in the bar. Tonight, he oozes sophistication and fits right in with the rest of the country-clubbers circulating the room outside this hallway comparing their bank accounts.
He pushes off the wall he was leaning against and takes a couple of steps toward me, his body rigid and tense.
Lennon, that bitch, doesn’t even stick around to be my wingwoman. Instead she slinks off down the hall back to the party.
“My apologies if the other night wasn’t memorable for you. It makes things difficult when you’re working with a lush.”
So, this is how we’re going to play this? Sure thing. I’ve got years of pent-up anger and resentment toward this man and he doesn’t even know it.
Let’s do this.
“Maybe I felt the need to be intoxicated in order to get through it.”
He gives me such a condescending laugh that I now know beyond all doubt that I must have been very handsy that night. Damn whiskey. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He leans in a little closer to me and I can smell his expensive cologne. “You were begging me for it.”
I let my hands drop and clench them at my sides. “You lied.”
His eyebrows arch up. “Excuse me?”
“You lied.”
The crease in his forehead deepens. “How did I lie?”
“You let me believe that you were just a bartender.”
“Who’s to say I’m not just a bartender?” He clenches that stupid strong jaw of his.
“You’re Cole fucking Webber.”
He closes the few inches between us and the smell of his cologne hits me and I fight not to let my eyes flutter closed. He’s so close that I have to crank my neck back to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please. Is this the part where you play the poor, misunderstood rich boy? I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” he practically growls.
“I know you have zero regard for anyone else’s feelings. You’re used to taking what you want when you want it. You toss people aside when you feel like it and to hell with them.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and uses his thumb and finger to rub the bridge of his nose. “Are you on some kind of medication or something? Because you’re making zero fucking sense.”
Of course, I’m not making any sense. He wouldn’t remember me, but how could I forget him?
“Had I known who you really were I wouldn’t have let you get within ten feet of me.”
A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth before he leans down and says right into my ear, “Now, now, Whit.” He pronounces the ’t’ at the end of my name extra hard to exaggerate the fact that he’s using my nickname. “We both know it wouldn’t have mattered who I was that night. You were looking for some cock. I was happy to give it to you and you were more than happy to receive it.”
I suck in a startled gasp. “You’re exaggerating,” I say in a breathy voice that does nothing to back up my argument.
He chuckles, the sensation of his breath on my neck and ear causing shivers to race down my arm. Thankfully, he moves back and gives me some room. Unthankfully, his hazel eyes bore into me like lasers and I’m unable to look away. “Not exaggerating, no.” He shakes his head. “What was it you called mine when you grabbed it? Oh, yeah. Unicorn cock. I still don’t understand the reference, but I do know it must mean I have one magical cock.”
I’m going to go ahead and blame Lennon here for even putting unicorns in my head with that stupid van of hers. And Jesus, would he stop saying ‘cock’ already? It’s an aphrodisiac when it comes from his mouth and I’m doing my best to remember that I am no longer allowed to be attracted to this man.
I clench my teeth for a full minute and just stare at him and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Before I can think of a scathing response Chase comes sauntering down the hallway toward the restrooms. “You guys look like you’re in the middle of an intense conversation,” he says.
I turn my gaze away from Cole and look to Chase and smile.
“Whitney was just telling me how fond she is of unicorns,” Cole says with a straight face.
My cheeks burn, but I don’t take the bait.
“Have you seen Lennon’s van lately?” Chase asks me. “You should take a ride in that thing if you’re a fan of unicorns.” He laughs.
“Have you ridden a unicorn before, Whit?” Cole asks. If I weren’t so irritated with the man right now I’d almost call his smile playful, but since I am irritated I’m going to go ahead and describe it as provoking.
With a saccharine smile, I respond. “I think I have. Hard to say really. It must not have been as memorable as you’d expect.”
And with that comment I head off down the hall with an exaggerated sway to my hips, because if I still want Cole Webber after everything he did to me all those years ago, and everything I know about him, I’m going to make doubly sure he feels the same.
Misery does love company, after all.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun?
Was the one night stand a good idea?
Well, no. Probably not in retrospect.
In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead.
So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it!
Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way.
I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.
Who knew sleeping with the enemy could be this fun?
Was the one night stand a good idea?
Well, no. Probably not in retrospect.
In my defense I had just moved back into my grandparent’s house, I’d lost my dream job, and a guy on Tinder had stood me up. It was like life had suddenly stamped ‘LOSER’ on my forehead.
So when the guy behind the bar started giving me THE look…you know, the one that promised I’d be screaming his name into the wee hours of the morning? When that guy also has the perfect amount of scruff on his chiseled chin, biceps bulging out of his t-shirt, and a cocky grin you knew he’d earned in the sack…when he gives you that look, you don’t bother to figure out what your six degrees of separation are. You jump on that horse and ride it!
Pun fully and completely intended. And accurate by the way.
I fully admit to feeling sorry for myself and acting impulsively, but by the time I’d figured out WHO the bartender was, I was already falling for him.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two USA Today Bestselling authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?
We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.
What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
Connect with Piper: Newsletter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram
We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.
What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
Connect with Piper: Newsletter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram
