Giveaway below!! <3
The leaves are still changing and I have the sniffles! Winter is coming and so are Teal and Trent!
Former Marine, Trent Reed, is in desperate need of a Hail Mary.
With each failed attempt to convince his woman to pack up and move to Kentucky, his past finds some new way to rear its ugly head. But when his pregnant ex plows into his life, all hell breaks loose—unearthing parts of his past he wished would stay buried.
Two weeks of vacation with her man? Hell yeah, that is exactly what Teal Lofton’s libido needs. And after surviving seven months apart, their reunion doesn’t disappoint. What she didn’t account for was an unfortunate encounter with people from Trent’s past. A racist, a druggie, and a double-barreled shotgun, culminate into a vacation that will alter the course of her life forever.
Check out a preview of Katie & Logan in incarcerated & Teal & Trent in inevitable!
Part 1 Kentucky 2001
“Fuck this shit,” Trent muttered, as beads of sweat gathered from the top of his head to the crack of his ass. Lifting his hands, he grabbed hold of the vehicle’s undercarriage and rolled himself out from underneath. For the life of him, he could not comprehend why the owner of this ‘69 Camaro continued to treat this baby as if it was some fucking Chevy Malibu.
Groaning, he stretched and stood, releasing the aches and pains from laying prone in one spot for so long. Using his arm, he swept the sweat away from his forehead, and took a few steps out of the partially covered garage and into the scorching sun. As the sun’s rays beat down on his skin, he lifted the sleeveless shirt he’d discarded earlier and wiped the remaining sweat from his face and neck.
The mid-summer sun had become a sweltering beast, transforming his skin from its normal pale coloring to a deep, dark bronze. He’d avoided a farmer’s tan solely because it was too damned hot to wear a shirt while working, unless he absolutely had to. Kentucky’s heat was so oppressive, Trent had considered—on more than one occasion—moving to a colder state. Maybe one that actually had a winter, and a mild-ass summer. The bar he frequented out of town even had a signature summer drink called Devil’s Ball Sweat, and as repulsive as it sounded, the drink itself was damned good. The thought of it had his mouth watering.
On leave from the Marines, Trent had found his way back home, and into the familiar grease and fumes of the auto body shop, where he’d slaved away as a teenager. But life had changed since high school. Trent was now in his mid-twenties, part owner of a garage, fully enlisted in the Marines, and waiting for the call of duty.
Logan’s voice pulled Trent from his musings and he near jumped out of his skin.
His friend’s brow lifted as he deliberately ignored Trent’s jitteriness. “Hey, man. You hungry?”
As if on cue, Trent’s stomach roared. He placed a greasy hand over his eyes, shielding the sun’s glare, to find Logan headed toward him with a 7/11 bag in hand. Trent nodded and moved to the sink, squirting some Fast Orange into his hands. Using his elbow to turn on the hot water, he shoved his hands under the steaming spray.
“You gonna work on this all day, or you planning on taking a real break? You’ve only been back home a few weeks and you haven’t done shit with anybody. Barely been out of the house.”
Trent turned to see a couple of hotdogs, a bag of chips, and a forty sitting on his workbench. Logan had already started in on his own food. Trent’s mouth watered at the sight. He’d been in the heat for most of the day, and skipping breaks to shorten the workday made sense, until he was dizzy with hunger, of course. Drying his hands, he grabbed a milk crate and carried it over to the workbench and sat down.
Trent had ignored Logan’s question, but his friend stared at him expectantly. Between gulps of his beer and a bite of his hot dog, he gave in. “Who’s been asking?”
Logan shook his head and took a hefty drink of his soda. He’d never been much of a drinker. “Nobody. It’s just, before you left, you were all over the place. This bar, that club, and now that you’re back . . .” he shrugged and let the sentence hang in the air.
Trent didn’t need anyone worrying about him. Besides, he’d gone to Gator’s a few times since his return. He’d taken care of himself for the past decade, with little to no help, yet Rhonda, the garage’s accountant, who’d taken a shining to Trent, was always up his ass about finding a woman and settling down.
That was the thing about a lot of women in the South. They always wanted to bag a man, settle down, and duplicate, but Trent wasn’t trying to hear it. The military had helped him perfect his ability to survive on his own. He didn’t need anyone else.
He moved the bottle from his lips and set down the chili and cheese hotdog, his stomach groaning in protest. “You been talking to Rhonda?” Trent couldn’t hold back his anger. Rhonda seemed to think she had his best interest at heart—her words, not his—and that shit was getting old.
Logan lifted his chin. “You always get pissed when she comes around. You messing with her?” Eying Trent with half-veiled disapproval, he added, “I see the way she looks at you, and that shit ain’t right. She’s old enough to be your mother.” He scarfed down the rest of his hotdog, while managing to keep a grimace on his face.
Trent cocked a brow. “I can tell you one thing. I’ve never seen a better pair of tits on a woman her age.” He smiled wildly at Logan’s appalled glare, waggling his eyebrows to goad him further.
Logan had less years under his belt, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d call the man a virgin. Yeah, Rhonda was in her mid-forties, but damned if she didn’t have long legs, a round ass, and tits too firm and high to be real. He could only imagine the things she knew and would be willing to do.
“Whatever, man. I brought it up because I’m headed to Louisville for a party. You want in?”
Trent finished one hotdog and opened the second before answering. “Who the hell wants to drive almost two hours for some party?” He shoved half the dog in his mouth.
Logan shoved his hands through his hair and stood. “Look, it’s been nothing but boring ass work since you’ve been gone. Hell, maybe I’ll join the military.” He picked up his trash and threw it in the nearby can. “There ain’t nothing to do here, other than work.”
Trent glanced up at the man. Was he actually thinking of joining the military out of boredom? There wasn’t a war going on, but being owned by the government was no picnic.
Trent started in on his chips. “Who do you know in Louisville that’s got you willin’ to drive over there for a party?”