Leave The Night On
By: Laura Trentham
Releasing August 1, 2017
St. Martin’s Press
Love, betrayal, and sweet revenge--life in Cottonbloom is about to get a whole lot hotter . . .
Sutton Mize is known for lavishing attention on the customers who flock to her boutique on the wealthy side of her Mississippi town. So when she finds a lace thong in her fiance's classic cherry-red Camaro, she knows just who she sold it to: her own best friend. In an instant, Sutton's whole world goes up in flames. . .
Wyatt Abbott has harbored a crush on Sutton since he was a young kid from the other side of the tracks. He witnessed Sutton's shocking discovery in the Camaro at his family-owned garage--and it made him angry. What kind of man could take lovely, gorgeous Sutton for granted? But then Sutton comes up with an idea: Why not give her betrothed a taste of his own medicine and pretend that she's got a lover of her own? Wyatt is more than happy to play the hot-and-heavy boyfriend. But what begins as a fictional affair soon develops into something more real, and more passionate, than either Sutton or Wyatt could have imagined. Could it be that true love has been waiting under the hood all along?
Sutton's hand found Wyatt's like a magnet finding its mate, and she knitted their fingers together. Music drifted through the trees.
“You know how to two-step?” Wyatt asked.
“No, but I learned how to waltz and foxtrot during cotillion, a lot of good that does me.”
Wyatt tugged her into a faster walk. “I’ll teach you.
“No way. Not in front of everyone. I’ll look like an idiot.” She pulled at his arm, but inertia was on his side.
“That’s your fear talking. Come on and take a chance on me.”
Even though he was talking about something as simple as a dance, the moment felt like a tipping point. Fearful or brave? Which did she choose?
She quit fighting and let him lead her into the circle of light. A handful of couples danced, but a majority of the partiers hung around the edges talking and watching. Before her feet could mount a rebellion and retreat, Wyatt spun her around and put a firm hand on her upper back, holding her other hand in a typical dance hold.
“The two-step is simple. Four steps, two quick, two slow. I step forward on my left, and you step back on your right. Okay?”
She made an affirmative sounding hum and tried to assimilate what he was saying, but heat streaked across her back where his hand branded her. All the eyes fixed on them didn’t help her concentration.
He counted them off, and she made it two steps before screwing up. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can’t do it.”
“You’re acting like this is worse than a firing squad. What are you thinking about?”
He gave a slight shake of his head before bursting out in chesty laughter that sent vibrations through his hold to her. “Dare I ask why?”
“I feel like we’re being examined like reproducing amoebas through a microscope.”
“If I recall my high school biology, amoebas are asexual. I’m not. Forget about everyone else and look at me.”
She focused on his face. The flickering fire set gold sparking in his gray eyes, and since he’d invited her to, she let her gaze linger on all his features, but especially his mouth. His lips were mouthing “quick-quick-slow-slow,” and she dabbed her bottom lip with her tongue, remembering what they’d felt like against hers.
“You’re dancing.” His sweet, sexy lips turned up in a smile.
An award-winning author, Laura Trentham was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee. Although, she loved English and reading in high school, she was convinced an English degree equated to starvation. She chose the next most logical major—Chemical Engineering—and worked in a hard hat and steel toed boots for several years.
She writes sexy, small town contemporaries and smoking hot Regency historicals. The first two books of her Falcon Football series were named Top Picks by RT Book Reviews magazine. Then He Kissed Me, a Cottonbloom novel, was named as one of Amazon’s best romances of 2016. When not lost in a cozy Southern town or Regency England, she's shuttling kids to soccer, helping with homework, and avoiding the Mt. Everest-sized pile of laundry that is almost as large as the to-be-read pile of books on her nightstand.