<— BREAKING NEWS UPDATE!!! WRECKED IS LIVE!!!!
Jeannine Colette fans, I have something awesome to wet your palette!!!Β Β Her upcoming book “Wrecked” will be released in just a few days (SHE’S A BARTENDER & THE TOWN PARTY GIRL & HE’S THE COP THAT ARRESTS HER… and they HATE each other!), and we have a little taste-test to tease you with. π But first, in case you missed it, here’s the blurb, and then, there’s much more below. :D!!
BLURB:
Take one sexy bartender. Add a badass cop. A splash of sweet, that’s me. One sour, that’s him… and serve over ice.ΒThatβs how youβll get to my current situation.
You know the girl – the one who commands the scene, bottle of liquor in hand, pouring liquid fire into the willing throats of patrons as they let loose at the local bar?
That’s me.
I may be known as the town party girl, but in reality I’mΒ this closeΒ to my dream of opening my own bar – McConaugheys. Yes, it will be named after the acclaimed actor. What can I say? Iβm a sucker for that sexy Texan.
Everything was going as planned until the night I had a few drinks and accepted a ride home from a friend. A misunderstanding leads to an arrest, and now I’m at the mercy of the one man I canβt stand, and trust me, the feeling is definitely mutual.
Adam Reingold is six-feet-tall and built like a stallion — the man is the epitome of male. He also happens to be the town narc and hates my guts. Thereβs a story to our past and it’s not a pretty one.
So, now, here I am, chained to him for the summer like a hardened criminal, doing whatever he tells me to do. Problem is, I canβt help but look at him when heβs not watching and wonder what our future could be like if things were different.
There are so many reasons why heβs all wrong for me. Even more reasons why I need to stay away from him.
Itβs a cocktail of trouble. Best served shaken, not stirred.
GAH!!!! I LOVE “sexy cop” books!!! Oh how I hope he’s often in uniform or… you know. *blush* Β Just taking it off. *ahem*
And yesssssss…. it’s true thatΒ I had a whoooooopsie of over-excitement last weekend when I thought Wrecked had gone live early. I was in a panic, ’cause I had this awesome chapter to post, but when I thought the book was already available and so I shrugged. No tease, but even better, ’cause we could now jump right in.
I wasn’t entirely wrong about that, ’cause it was the PRINT version that went live (early and by accident). The author has since reigned in the “Wrecked” surprise-its-live-early!!! fairies, and now, we get to properly taste-test. No worries though. This one will be live VERY soon, so it’s not too torturous of a tease. Just fun. π
Ready?
BY JEANNINE COLETTE
Chapter One
βCome on, Leah! Ten more seconds,β someone in the crowd cheers from behind the rope.
The record for the longest ride on the mechanical bull at The Bucking Bronco is one minute and thirty-five seconds, and I am on my way to breaking it.
Thighs clenched, I use my lower body to keep steady while my upper body sways with the motion. Itβs a balancing act Iβve gotten quite good at after riding this massive piece of metal, bucking beneath my butt, every week since I started working here five years ago. I throw my arm up over my head, exposing some skin as my shirt rises up my midriff. Sure enough, the boys go crazy, imagining theyβre the bull, getting the ride of their lives.
βFive, four, three, two, one! Sheβs beaten Daveβs record!β Paulieβs voice bellows over the loudspeaker.
The crowdβs chanting rises to a crescendo as I add seconds to the clock. My hand and forearm burn from the hold they have on the rope of the bullβs neck. Iβm starting to get dizzy, but I donβt want to stop. Itβs the competitive nature of the Paige family. While we might be sweet-natured, we like to win.
As if my body knows it no longer needs to hold on, it gives out without my brainβs permission. I fall to the mat below, flat on my back.
βYou did it, kid. And you won the bet. Guess I owe you,β Paulie says, helping me up.
When Iβm steady, he takes a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and hands it to me.
βThank you,β I say, dramatically shoving the cash into my back pocket and giving my butt a pat. βIβll be putting this into the McConaugheyβs bar fund.β
βStill going with that damn name, huh?β
He is not a fan of renaming his bar McConaugheyβs. The Bucking Bronco is Paulieβs baby. But, after thirty-five years, heβs ready to sell and retire down south. Apparently, Cedar Ridge, Ohio, isnβt as nice as Boca Raton, Florida.
βMy bar, I get to name it.β I take my place behind the bar and drink from my water bottle. βJust remember our deal. No one will know the bar is mine. Iβll just tell them Iβm looking over things while youβre playing golfβor whatever it is you retirees do,β I say with my free hand waving in the air.
Paulie leans back and looks down at me, the white hairs of his eyebrows sticking up in random directions. βCanβt say I understand, but I know you have your reasons.β
The front door of the bar opens, and my best friend, Suzanne, strolls in with her friend Victoria. Suzanneβs brown curls bounce as she walks in and strolls up to a seat at the bar.
βOne minute, thirty-nine seconds!β I shout over the music.
Her eyes widen behind her thick-framed glasses. βI missed it? Damn it.β She turns to Victoria with a scowl. βLeah already rode the bull. I told you that you were taking too long.β
Victoria rolls her eyes and brushes her long black hair over her shoulder. βWhatever. Youβll see her do it again. Itβs just a bull.β
Suzanneβs mouth is agape. βJust a bull? You try riding that thing for more than four seconds.β
Victoria ignores Suzanne and turns to me. βIβll have a mojito.β
I smash my lips together to keep myself from saying anything rude. I donβt care for Victoria. I donβt understand why Suzanne hangs out with her, but I tolerate her for Suzanne. The two of us have been best friends since kindergarten. Thatβs how Cedar Ridge works. Small town, tight friendships. And Suzanneβs and mine is the tightest. Even if it means I have to deal with Victoria, who moved here last year and latched on to Suzanne like a tick.
Instead of showing my distaste, I smile and make the mojito. I donβt believe in being a bitch or acting mean. I donβt live in a bubble, but life is way too short to waste it being angry. Iβm all about having fun. Showing people a good time makes me feel good about myself.
Thatβs why Iβm buying The Bucking Bronco and turning it into McConaugheyβs.
Yes, it will be named after the acclaimed actor. Iβve been borderline obsessed with that sexy Texan since I saw him in A Time to Kill. Iβve watched every movie of his countless times, and I can quote him lyrically.
I love Matthew McConaughey, and Iβm not ashamed to say it.
I slide two drinks on the bar, giving Suzanne her draft and Victoria her mojito, and look out into the crowd. I take my cowboy hat off the hook from under the counter and grab my special bottle of vodka.
βAll right, all right, all right! Letβs get this party started!β I shout, climbing up onto the bar with my cowboy boots. βWhoβs ready to have some fun on this ranch tonight?β
Paulie hits the jukebox and plays the classic βPour Some Sugar on Meβ by Def Leppard. Then, everyone in the room knows itβs time to come up for the free pour. Itβs something weβve been doing every Saturday night, and it gets people excited. The backup bartenders step up to take the incoming orders.
I hold the bottle up and beckon the patrons to open their mouths. Wearing my Daisy Dukes that are frayed on the ends and a retro AC/DC T-shirt thatβs nice and tight, I strut up and down the bar, pouring the liquid on the willing tongues. I only serve enough to give them a taste. I donβt need anyone getting sick. Thatβs why my special bottle is half-vodka, half-water.
A new club, Velocity, opened up down the road, and a lot of people come here to pregame. My goal is to keep them from leaving. Pretty soon, this place will be mine, and if it doesnβt succeed, Iβll be out the two hundred grand my parents cosigned for me.
To everyone below me, Iβm the town joke. The blonde who didnβt go to college and still works in the bar she worked at in high school. While I might be the punch line, Iβm here to help them unwind after a long day of work, and Iβm why theyβre opening their mouths like teenagers on spring break.
Noreen, one of the bartenders, comes up behind me and starts grinding against my back. Not only is she a hard worker, but with her short blonde hair, big doe eyes, and taut figure, sheβs also a knockout. Her hand caresses my thigh and then travels up my stomach. The eyes of the guys below us pop out of their sockets.
I give her a hip check, and she walks down the bar, looking for a patron who wants to come up and dance with us. I find a pretty brunette and give her a hand up. Juice, one of the bouncers, comes over to assist. When the girl is safely up, I hand her the bottle. She thinks sheβs the life of the party as she drizzles the watered-down vodka into very eager throats.
The next song on the jukebox is βCherry Pieβ by Warrant. I can guarantee, ninety percent of the people in here have no idea who Warrant is. I only do because Paulie has been ingraining his love of rock in me since I started working here at eighteen years old. I couldnβt bartend back then, but I made one hell of a bar-back.
When the song is over, Noreen and I help the girls get down from the bar top without breaking any limbs. The music volume diminishes at the same time, allowing the hum of overlapping conversations to break through.
Some might think being a bar owner is a crazy life goal for a twenty-three-year-old, but this is what Iβm good at. Itβs what I was meant to do. My family believes in me, too, or else they wouldnβt have mortgaged the house in order to help me fulfill my dream.
Stepping down from the bar, I wipe my hands on a rag. Victoria takes off to flirt with some guy by the mechanical bull, and I lean in to talk to my friend.
βI thought you were taking the night off?β Suzanne asks.
I laugh, looking at my place behind the bar when I should be on a stool next to Suzanne. βYeah, I was, but the place is packed. What was I thinking, taking off on a weekend?β
βCome on, Paulie told you to actually have some fun tonight. Pretty soon, you wonβt be able to let loose in here, so live it up while you still can.β
With a grin, I say, ββThe older you get, the more rules theyβre gonna want you to follow.ββ
βDid you just McConaughey me?β
I roll my head back and laugh. My good mood instantly dies when the front door opens, and in walks the one person who affects me like no one else.
Adam Reingold.
Six feet tall and built like a stallion, the man is the epitome of male. He also happens to be the town narc, and he hates my guts.
He strolls in with his officerβs uniform onβthat tacky polyester ensemble that is a symbol of honor, protection, and ruiner of fun. I swear, every time he walks in here, everyone freezes. With his copper hair and onyx eyes, he scans the room with a grimace.
Ever since a drug overdose killed his best friend and my boyfriend, Brad, heβs been on a mission to make sure no one is messing around with narcotics. While I admire his dedication to keeping our town clean, I do find an issue with him sauntering into my bar all the time, treating my customers like theyβre criminals.
βUh, Leahβ¦youβre staring.β Suzanne reaches across the bar and pinches my nose.
I swat her hand away.
She giggles and sits back, lifting her glass to her mouth. βI get it; heβs gorgeous.β
I place my hand on my hip and scrunch my face. βEw, gross. He is not gorgeous. Heβs rude, condescending, and the most boring person Iβve ever met.β
Suzanne puts her hands up in defense. βI agree with you. Heβs drab, and damn if he doesnβt give me the heebie-jeebies sometimes.β She gives a little shiver. βBut he sure is nice to look at.β
I squint my eyes at her and take an order from a patron. If Iβm going to stand back here, I might as well keep making drinks. My hand is filling a cup with ice when I see Adam walking over to Kimberly, a local who went to high school with us. Sheβs at the opposite end of the bar in a short little skirt and a shirt that is more revealing than what she usually wears.
Adam leans his side into the bar, his muscular forearm resting on the wood. The fabric of his shirt, having zero stretch, hugs his bicep with the curl. Heβs talking to Kimberly. At first, she seems flattered by the attention, and then she quickly stiffens and starts to look uncomfortable. Sheβs staring at the drink in front of her.
Kimberly mouths something to him, and he nods, seeming satisfied but unhappy with her answer. With a point of his finger, he appears to be reprimanding her, and then stalks off.
When he is gone, I let out a large breath and realize my hand is still sitting in the ice machine. Itβs so numb, I can barely feel it.
βDamn it!β I pull it out and then tuck it in my back pocket for warmth.
My nerves are shot, and my hand is frozen.
I ask one of the bartenders to finish making the drink and then turn back to Suzanne. βLetβs get drunk tonight.β
***
Two hours, two shots, four beers, and a table dance later, Iβm swimming in a sea of lanky limbs and good times.
βLeah, stop touching my boobs!β Jessica hits my hand as I try to push her double Ds out of her tank top.
She has big breasts, and I just want to play with them.
Jessica is another friend of mine from childhood. She is petite and pretty with long, wavy brown hair. With these knockers, sheβs every guyβs wet dream.
I place my head on her chest and smile. βTheyβre like giant pillows.β
She pushes my head away. βYouβre drunk.β
βI am.β I fall forward and use her shoulder for support.
βI think itβs time you went home.β
I salute her and then walk away, looking for Suzanne.
Of course, Victoria is in my way.
βWhereβs Suzanne?β I shout to Victoria.
She has been talking to some guys from a local motorcycle organization all night. Theyβre not Bucking Bronco regulars, and Iβm surprised to see them in here. Theyβre the type Adam Reingold would be interrogating.
βSheβs sucking face with Rory OβToole.β Victoria makes a gagging face. βHeβs such a geek.β
She looks over to the make-out session that is indeed happening in the back of the bar. She might think Roryβs lame, but I happen to know he is the sweetest guy in Cedar Ridge and would make an excellent boyfriend, unlike some of the questionable characters Iβve seen Victoria roll with.
I twist my mouth and think of how Iβll get home. I wasnβt planning on drinking tonight, so I drove. βIβm leaving my car here and calling a cab.β
βIβll drive. Give me your keys.β She holds out her hand, and I questioningly look at her. She feigns annoyance. βI only had that one drink earlier. Iβll drive you home and then walk from there. Your parentsβ house isnβt far from my apartment.β
Sheβs being oddly nice, and itβs making me wonder what she has up her sleeve, but, damn, it would be nice not to have to come back for my car in the morning. She appears to be sober, and I havenβt seen her drink anything other than that one mojito.
I nod and accept her offer as I hiccup. βIβm gonna get Sue.β
When I make it to Suzanne and Rory, I awkwardly tap them both twice to get their attention. They pull away from their embrace. Suzanne uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth, which is glistening with Roryβs slobber while his mouth is covered in pink lipstick.
βVictoria and I are leaving. You ready?β I have to use the wall to brace myself.
Suzanne looks up at Rory, who raises his brows at her. She nods and then turns back to me. βActually, I was planning on staying with Rory. Maybe going back to his place.β
I look over at Rory, who is looking at my best friend like sheβs the greatest prize of the night. Iβm pretty sure heβs had a crush on her since tenth grade.
Suzanneβs a big girl. She doesnβt make bad choices, and Roryβs a stand-up guy.
So, I give her a kiss and ask, βDo you have protection?β
βLeah!β She hits me on the arm. Then, she leans in, and with the tiniest of whispers, she says, βOf course I do.β
With a slight stumble, I walk out of The Bucking Bronco and hand my keys to Victoria.
βWhich one is yours?β she asks as we make our way to the parking lot.
I motion toward my car. βThe blue one.β
βOh,β she says, unimpressed by my adorable little four-door sedan that was in my budget.
When you save every penny to fulfill your dream of buying a bar, driving a fancy car is not in the cards.
We climb into the Blue Whore, as I like to call it, and Victoria has the car in reverse before my seat belt is even buckled. The car pops into gear with a jolt, forcing my back to mold into the seat.
I brace myself against the passenger door. βWhoa, youβve got a heavy foot there.β
Victoria ignores me and floors it out of the parking lot. I look out the rear window to make sure no cars are coming down the road.
βWeβre on Main Street. Are you crazy?β My voice breaks.
She opens the window, letting her hand out to feel the wind. Her hair is blowing in her face and doesnβt seem to be bothering her in the slightest. I must be sobering up because Victoria is no longer looking as innocent as she did ten minutes ago. Something about her isβ¦off.
I still at the thought and then cautiously ask her, βVictoria, are you on something?β
She smiles a wide-mouthed smile that is atypical for her sourpuss face and slightly shakes her head. βNo, Leah. I told you, Iβm sober.β
My racing heart slows down a beat. Sheβs still driving like a maniac, but maybe this is just the way she drives.
She swerves and almost hits a parked car. βI just took a little hit off this guy at the bar.β
My stomach drops. A hit? βA hit of what?β
βJust a little afghan brown.β
βWhat the hell is afghan brown?β My voice is a screech.
She shakes her head like Iβm an idiot and turns down another street, too hard because the tires on the right side of the car just lifted up in the air.
βSlow down!β I scream.
But she isnβt listening. I brace one hand on the door handle and place the other on the dashboard, praying we make it to my house in one piece.
Victoria is in a trance. She starts to sing a song thatβs not on the radio. Itβs like sheβs in a euphoric daze and unaware of reality. Whatever she smoked has really started to kick in.
My heart is now pounding in my throat. My palms are sweaty, and my breathing is erratic. Iβm prepared to take the wheel in case she passes out. The streets are empty, and weβre flying down Sycamore Avenueβthe wrong way from our homes and toward the park.
βStop the car!β I shout.
She hears me, but sheβs not listening.
βVictoria, stop the f*cking car!β
With a sudden reflex, she slams her foot on the brake. The carβs still moving, despite her attempt to stop, racing toward a tree at the edge of the park.
Throwing myself over Victoriaβs body, I grab the wheel and crank it hard in a last-ditch effort to avoid the looming oak. With wide eyes, I stare out the passenger window at the guardrail that is our new target.
The car crashes into the aluminum. My body hurls into Victoria and is brought back by the restraint of my seat belt. When we finally stop, there is a hissing sound from the car, and everything else goes quiet.
Staring out the window, I see the guardrail just inches from my nose. I can practically taste the metal.
That was close, too close for comfort.Β
The glaring red and blue lights swirling from afar are fast approaching with the loud sound of a siren.
I close my eyes and will myself not to cry.
My life is wrecked.
*claps ecstatically!!!!* :D!!!! Right?? The uniform!!! *squeeeeee* Oh this is SO MINE.
βββ Β Love this author? Browse moreΒ Jeannine ColetteΒ features and reviews on my blog. π
βββ Β Love this trope? Browse more small town and/or police romance features and reviews on my blog.
I WANT, I WANT, I WANT!!!!
ME TOOOOOOOO!!!!!! :D!!!!!
#GetWrecked! *throws confetti*
Ahh can’t wait! I love all things Jeannine Colette! β€οΈ