Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: June 23rd 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
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.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn't get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she's not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer who stole her heart.
I wasn’t prepared for my reaction to the sight of her. She was wearing boots, jeans, a tight black sweater, and my favorite smile. Everything shit in my life disappeared. Her blond hair was loose and her innocent expression was full of humor. I wanted to touch her so bad, I was almost shaking. She caught me checking her out and heat flushed her cheeks a sexy shade of pink.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear. I didn’t know if you’d come on the bike or in the Barracuda. I figured this worked for both.” She smiled tentatively.
I was beginning to think she could wear a fucking sack and my dick would respond to the sight of her. “Barracuda, I don’t take chicks on the Ducati,” I stated, feeling more like myself.
It’s mine. I bought it to ride, not show off and haul chicks around. “I ride solo.” When she frowned, I felt like shit. “It’s more fun,” I grumbled, pissed I was explaining myself.
“Hmm, I’d be willing to test that theory. Can I drive it?”
“You ride?” I asked, incredulous.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”