Never apologize
Hard-edged rocker Graham Allen has it all. He’s flush with cash from playing bass in a band by night and restoring classic cars by day. And there are plenty of women willing to share his bed for a night, complication-free. Perfect, because if there’s anything he learned from his past, it was to never get attached—to anything. So when bartender Carly Sullivan flashes her innocent smile, Graham isn’t prepared for what happens next.
Never fall in love
Two rules, that’s all Graham has—never apologize and never fall in love. He knows Carly is everything he should avoid. Cheerful and sweet, she has “relationship” written all over her. But Graham can’t stay away from her probing questions and concerned blue eyes.
When Graham discovers Carly is hiding a crushing secret, he’s prepared to risk it all. Until in one single moment, everything changes and Graham’s past threatens to collide with his future. His life is crumbling down around him, and soon no apology in the world can save him.
He should’ve known to walk away.
EXCERPT:
I peeled out of the parking lot, a stupid fucking plan already forming. I broke about eighteen traffic laws gunning it for the coffee shop around the corner from Sam’s apartment. Time wasn’t on my side. Parking illegally, I jogged inside, grabbed a couple of juices from the case, ordered two coffees and picked out a few muffins. Armed, I went back to the car and broke a few more traffic laws.
Five minutes later, juggling the drinks, I reached for Carly’s doorbell.
“What are you doing, Graham?” Her voice was small, hurt.
Startled, I turned around. The hurt in her voice was nothing compared to the look on her face. Fuck. “Having breakfast with you.” I held up the bag of muffins.
Sad, angry, Carly still looked pretty. Her hands went to her hips. “Your girlfriend too tired after last night? Didn’t make you breakfast?” The words were ugly, even coming from her.
Reminding myself I didn’t owe her anything, I didn’t correct the girlfriend comment. Instead I drove it home. “She doesn’t cook.” And because I was an asshole, a humorless smile curved my lips, daring her to push me further.
She blanched then her face went red. “You need to leave!”
My smile dropped and I got pissed. I had no right, she was dead on, but I was pissed, about her accusation, about my mother, about holding this fucking bag like an idiot so I let her have it. “Listen up because I’m only gonna say this once. I don’t owe you shit. Not one goddamn thing. But I’m here and I can appreciate what you think you saw. Not that it’s any of your business but that was Myles’s girlfriend, not mine. I gave her a ride to school. You don’t get an explanation beyond that.” She could take it or leave it, I no longer cared. Coming after Carly this morning was a bad fucking idea. This was exactly why I didn’t get involved with women.
“Oh, that’s rich! Do you make it a habit of preying on young girls for friends, or is it just other guys’ girlfriends?”
I took a step closer and Carly flinched, big time. “I never said she was my friend. Wanna make another assumption? You wanna walk that line with me?”
Body cowering, she glared up at me. “I don’t owe you anything!”
“No shit.” I turned to go.
“Why did you leave?”
I spun around. “What?”
Eyes wide, she stepped back. “You ran. Why did you run the other night?”
I lost it. “Because I don’t do this!”
“Do what?” she yelled back.
I stepped forward, bent my knees slightly, and got in her face. I dropped my voice to a deadly calm. “I don’t date. I am not, nor will I ever be your boyfriend. I do not date.”
Unbelievably, Carly’s face softened and she broke into a grin. A huge, shit-eating grin. “Is that food?”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
“Drinks?”
I was about to punch something.
“And conversation?” She innocently raised her eyebrows. “Because that, Graham Allen, is a date.”
I grew up in Northern California with my head in a book and my feet in the sand. I dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew me into the world of storytelling. I love the New Adult genre, but really, any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes me swoon.
I now live in Southern Florida and while I don’t get to read as much as I like, I still bury my toes in the sand. If I’m not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in my backyard, you can find me spending time with my handsomely tattooed husband, my brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you really want to know about me.
I grew up a faculty brat. I can swear like a sailor. I love men in uniform. I hate being told what to do. I can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks me out. My favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—I can’t decide. I have a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on me for driving directions, ever. And I have a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell my husband
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Author Goodreads