Release Day Review
Whiskey Girl

by

Adriane Leigh

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar

Model: Victorio Piva

Release Date: June 26, 2018

~ Synopsis ~

She was the one thing holding him together. Until she was gone.

And then there was whiskey.

Fallon Gentry has spent the last decade reliving one dark night in his head. The moment he lost the woman he loved when a single blink cascaded into a series of events that stole both of their lives. Now his nights are spent playing music in southern honky-tonks and nursing the memory of her the only way he knows how–at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. 

A brief stint in Nashville, a hit song, and a brush with Hollywood couldn't bring him closer to God, but when the ghost of Augusta Belle Branson appears in his corner of another lonely dive bar late after dark, he's forced to confront everything he thought he knew about that fateful night, and a few things he didn't.

He’s her contradiction, she’s his salvation.

A firestorm of emotion consumes them when they come together after ten lost years, every moment more revealing, more unpredictable, more intoxicating than the next until the only reckoning left for Fallon is the one he must make with himself. But this time, fate may have left an after-burn too bitter to swallow. This time, he may lose his whiskey girl for good.

An unforgettable, epic love story about two lost souls who, against all odds, find themselves through their passion and music. Filled with raw emotion, this lyrical, all-the-feels masterpiece may catapult Adriane Leigh into the league of Colleen Hoover, Brittainy Cherry, and L.J. Shen. — Nelle L'Amour, New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN

~ Add to Goodreads ~

~ Links to Buy ~

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ym5QpK

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2ymohef

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2yo7Hub

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2M3Uvwz

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2M3LNOR

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2t9yRA2

iBooks: https://apple.co/2JWVgHm

Excerpt ~

One

Fallon

The first time I met Augusta Belle Branson she was fixin’ on killin’ herself.

Said the minute I’d walked up, she was tryin’ to decide if jumpin’ off the bridge in the center—where the water was deep and the current stronger, would be a swifter end--or if jumping near the edge, where jagged limestone labs anchored the slow moving current awaited her.

Certain death for sure. 

I replayed the split-second when the blinding summer sun opened through the orange oak leaves, a halo of warmth enveloping her.

Like an angel, stardust sparkling straight from Heaven, ploppin’ her in my path.

And then she turned, the most startling shade of liquid amber eyes breathing something real and alive, like fire, into my soul.

That same something I’d been runnin’ from, or chasin’, dependin’ on how you looked at it, just about everyday since. 

I settled myself on the lone wooden stool that awaited at center stage, my thoughts drawing back to the present. My head swam, but the old familiar chords drove on through the current of whiskey in my blood, strumming the first few notes of a song I wrote a lot of nights ago by the sheer act of muscle memory.

Old acoustic guitar resting on my knee, my first and third fingers in position on the strings, the opening chords of Whiskey Girl bled from my fingers.

Every chord, another dagger.

Every whispered lyric, my undoing.

I still don’t know what the fuck had overtaken me the night I’d written Whiskey Girl in a fevered rush.

Well, the booze may have played a factor, but I happened to think my best shit came out of uninhibited states.

I’d just had a fuck ton of uninhibited states recently.

And the harder the liquor, the more she haunted me.

Whiskey Girl.

My poisoned lullaby.

The crowd of a few hundred erupted into a standing ovation when I ended with the final, emotion-charged words.

The irony that this song was the one that’d launched my career, the first single to hit radio waves and then the top spot on the Billboard charts brought reporters, music executives, long last family members that I wasn’t even really sure I was related to, and too much other scum with an end game that carried dollar signs to my front doorstep.

I’d moved to Nashville a rising star, and left two years later, middle finger in the air as I tossed my once promising music career out with last night’s liquor bottles in favor of the open road.

Chasing something.

Not finding the one thing I needed.

Playing local honky-tonks for a fraction of the money I could have made.

But truth was, the road is the only place I could find my happy.

A familiar ball of pain formed in my throat as I stood, pushing my guitar over one shoulder and bowing deeply. I couldn’t see a single face behind the glaring stage lights, but still, some part of me pretended she could be out there, that I was singing to her.

That she would hear her song and find her way back to me.

After hundreds of faceless crowds and too many bottles of Tennessee whiskey to bother counting, I still felt the pull inside me to travel every town in America if that’s what it took to find her.

Hell, maybe she was happily married with a few kids, a dog, and a fucking minivan by now.

I nodded my head, giving one last wave to the crowd in the dark beyond, then left the stage, taking the steps two at a time and angling past the curtains to head for the tiny-ass dressing room this dive bar provided for another chug of amber gold, before packing my shit into my truck and hitting the road.

I pushed a hand through my hair, thinking maybe a shower would be in order before I bailed when a curvy little thing backed right up into me.

My palms landed on her shoulders, warm blonde waves falling in a cascade over one side. The heady scent of peaches and honey filled my nostrils, my eyes slammed closed and brought me back to summer nights under a giant oak, fireflies melting together with the stars above like a painting.

“Sorry, I just dropped my phone.” The sweet-scented creature spun, brilliant smile falling off her face when our eyes made contact for the first time.

Every cold-hearted memory slammed into my chest like a pallet of bricks.

I narrowed my eyes, gaze tracing the familiar, yet unfamiliar angles of her porcelain face.

She was thinner now, cheeks sharp slashes of bone that highlighted her always-devastating round eyes and full lips. It was her alright. I’d know this woman anywhere.

“Hi, Fallon.” I’d been dreamin’ of this moment for the better part of a decade and still, my heart wasn’t prepared for those two words. My name on her lips left me with a toxic reaction.

My whiskey girl.

My damnation and my savior.

“I need a fucking minute.” I dropped her shoulders, her touch still haunting my fingertips, and walked straight down the narrow hallway, pushing the rusted back door open so hard the hinges protested.

Warm, autumn air filled my lungs, replacing the empty feeling that seeing her again had left.

“Fallon…” Hell, she’d followed me out.

And hell if wanted her to, but I didn’t not want her to either.

The emotions bombarding my mind were just a-fucking-bout unbearable.

“I said, I need a fucking minute.” The sentence more of a growl than I intended. Before she could reply I stomped across the potholed parking lot, aimed for my heavy-duty Ford.

I yanked the door open, digging behind the driver seat for a fresh bottle of my favorite recipe.

I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the half-full bottle I’d left in my dressing room, I had to get as far the fuck away from her just to clear my head and process what her being here even meant.

My hands circled the neck of the bottle and I opened it in a flash, chugging back the first warm bite of pleasure I’d been craving.

I tossed the cap on my dash and fished the keys out of my pocket, about to climb into the cab and make hay when fingertips painted a dark navy filtered into my vision and back out again, my goddamn truck keys hanging from one finger.

“Fuck,” I bit, crawling out of the cab and swiping for the keys.

My reactions were a helluva lot slower than I thought they were, how much of that bottle had I drank before the show? I shook the thought from my head, realizing this was probably about close to my average state of play on any given day. Runnin’ away from the life Augusta Belle and I’d had took something out of me. Something only whiskey could fill.

“I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Fallon Gentry.”

My head pounded then, a whole fucking sentence out of her pretty pink lips, my body’s old dependable reaction to her infuriating every cell of me.

I’d never been in control when it came to Augusta, shouldn’t have been surprised that it was no different now.

“As irritating as ever, I see.” I bit, swiping for my keys one more time and missing, before I stumbled off around her, whiskey bottle clutched in my hand and hell on my mind.

Augusta was back and there wasn’t enough whiskey in the state of Tennessee to help me deal.

 ~ Review ~

I couldn’t wait to read this book for many reasons.  First, it’s been a while since Adriane Leigh has released a book. Secondly, have you seen this cover and that blurb?  Lastly, I have never been disappointed by this authors work and Whiskey Girl was no different……A.M.A.Z.I.N.G!

This book had lots of feels.  I couldn’t wait to get back to these two.  Their story full of hurt, longing, secrets, hope and most of all love.   All I could do was go along for the ride.   They were so caught up in each other that age was irrelevant and they thought that they were just biding their time till they could finally be together.  It’s what they didn’t know that would change the course of their lives.

I am a total sucker for a man hell bent on destroying himself only to forget the one that got away.  Fallon was all music, bars and the bottom of whiskey bottle until Augusta reappears in his life.  His pain and his need palpable.  You could feel the restraint and the love he had for Augusta tearing him apart.

Augusta was a perfect match for Fallon. Her daring perspective, sassy attitude coupled with her regret and her absolute need for Fallon.  They were each other’s light in the darkness, the salvation that they needed to survive the life that they had been handed.

The story is well paced giving you enough backstory to take this journey with Fallon and Augusta.  There is some foreshadowing thrown in there to give you a glimmer of what may come.  A web of deceit that slowly untangles setting you free to embrace the love between Fallon and Augusta and their future.

I truly could go on and on about this book but you need to experience it for yourself.  So, go #1click and introduce yourself to Fallon Gentry and Augusta Belle Branson. Something tells me they may leave a lasting impression. 

~ Rating ~

 
~ About the Author ~

Adriane Leigh is an Amazon Top 25 and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and erotic romance. Raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she was born with a book in her hand and won her first Young Authors award before the age of ten. She finished her first romance novel at 14, and hasn't stopped playing with words since. She earned a literature degree, co-founded and organized international book conventions with RARE: Romance Author & Reader Events, and has written more than 45 independent titles under various pen names.

Married to her own Prince Charming, she now lives among the sand dunes of Lake Michigan, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She's a romantic rebel and word junkie that believes wanderlust is life, is part of the #goodvibetribe, and wishes she had more time to read and knit scarves to keep her cozy during the arctic Michigan winters. Yoga pants, puppies, and mac and cheese also help. Never miss a release! Get an alert at: http://www.adrianeleigh.com

Praise for Adriane's work:

“Sizzling chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists…a perfect combination held together with Adriane Leigh’s addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn’t want to come up for air. I can’t wait for more!” – 

Alessandra Torre, Hollywood Dirt

“Adriane Leigh never dissapoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex, suspense and scandal…Leigh’s newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets.” – 

Jay Crownover, Marked Men

 

~ Connect with Adriane ~

Facebook ** Instagram ** Twitter ** Pinterest

~ Giveaway ~

Cover Reveal
Whiskey Girl

by

Adriane Leigh

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar

Model: Victorio Piva

Release Date: June 26, 2018

~ Synopsis ~

She was the one thing holding him together. Until she was gone.

And then there was whiskey.

Fallon Gentry has spent the last decade reliving one dark night in his head. The moment he lost the woman he loved when a single blink cascaded into a series of events that stole both of their lives. Now his nights are spent playing music in southern honky-tonks and nursing the memory of her the only way he knows how–at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. 

A brief stint in Nashville, a hit song, and a brush with Hollywood couldn't bring him closer to God, but when the ghost of Augusta Belle Branson appears in his corner of another lonely dive bar late after dark, he's forced to confront everything he thought he knew about that fateful night, and a few things he didn't.

He’s her contradiction, she’s his salvation.

A firestorm of emotion consumes them when they come together after ten lost years, every moment more revealing, more unpredictable, more intoxicating than the next until the only reckoning left for Fallon is the one he must make with himself. But this time, fate may have left an after-burn too bitter to swallow. This time, he may lose his whiskey girl for good.

An unforgettable, epic love story about two lost souls who, against all odds, find themselves through their passion and music. Filled with raw emotion, this lyrical, all-the-feels masterpiece may catapult Adriane Leigh into the league of Colleen Hoover, Brittainy Cherry, and L.J. Shen. — Nelle L'Amour, New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN

~ Add to Goodreads ~

~ Excerpt ~

One

Fallon

The first time I met Augusta Belle Branson she was fixin’ on killin’ herself.

Said the minute I’d walked up, she was tryin’ to decide if jumpin’ off the bridge in the center—where the water was deep and the current stronger, would be a swifter end--or if jumping near the edge, where jagged limestone labs anchored the slow moving current awaited her.

Certain death for sure. 

I replayed the split-second when the blinding summer sun opened through the orange oak leaves, a halo of warmth enveloping her.

Like an angel, stardust sparkling straight from Heaven, ploppin’ her in my path.

And then she turned, the most startling shade of liquid amber eyes breathing something real and alive, like fire, into my soul.

That same something I’d been runnin’ from, or chasin’, dependin’ on how you looked at it, just about everyday since. 

I settled myself on the lone wooden stool that awaited at center stage, my thoughts drawing back to the present. My head swam, but the old familiar chords drove on through the current of whiskey in my blood, strumming the first few notes of a song I wrote a lot of nights ago by the sheer act of muscle memory.

Old acoustic guitar resting on my knee, my first and third fingers in position on the strings, the opening chords of Whiskey Girl bled from my fingers.

Every chord, another dagger.

Every whispered lyric, my undoing.

I still don’t know what the fuck had overtaken me the night I’d written Whiskey Girl in a fevered rush.

Well, the booze may have played a factor, but I happened to think my best shit came out of uninhibited states.

I’d just had a fuck ton of uninhibited states recently.

And the harder the liquor, the more she haunted me.

Whiskey Girl.

My poisoned lullaby.

The crowd of a few hundred erupted into a standing ovation when I ended with the final, emotion-charged words.

The irony that this song was the one that’d launched my career, the first single to hit radio waves and then the top spot on the Billboard charts brought reporters, music executives, long last family members that I wasn’t even really sure I was related to, and too much other scum with an end game that carried dollar signs to my front doorstep.

I’d moved to Nashville a rising star, and left two years later, middle finger in the air as I tossed my once promising music career out with last night’s liquor bottles in favor of the open road.

Chasing something.

Not finding the one thing I needed.

Playing local honky-tonks for a fraction of the money I could have made.

But truth was, the road is the only place I could find my happy.

A familiar ball of pain formed in my throat as I stood, pushing my guitar over one shoulder and bowing deeply. I couldn’t see a single face behind the glaring stage lights, but still, some part of me pretended she could be out there, that I was singing to her.

That she would hear her song and find her way back to me.

After hundreds of faceless crowds and too many bottles of Tennessee whiskey to bother counting, I still felt the pull inside me to travel every town in America if that’s what it took to find her.

Hell, maybe she was happily married with a few kids, a dog, and a fucking minivan by now.

I nodded my head, giving one last wave to the crowd in the dark beyond, then left the stage, taking the steps two at a time and angling past the curtains to head for the tiny-ass dressing room this dive bar provided for another chug of amber gold, before packing my shit into my truck and hitting the road.

I pushed a hand through my hair, thinking maybe a shower would be in order before I bailed when a curvy little thing backed right up into me.

My palms landed on her shoulders, warm blonde waves falling in a cascade over one side. The heady scent of peaches and honey filled my nostrils, my eyes slammed closed and brought me back to summer nights under a giant oak, fireflies melting together with the stars above like a painting.

“Sorry, I just dropped my phone.” The sweet-scented creature spun, brilliant smile falling off her face when our eyes made contact for the first time.

Every cold-hearted memory slammed into my chest like a pallet of bricks.

I narrowed my eyes, gaze tracing the familiar, yet unfamiliar angles of her porcelain face.

She was thinner now, cheeks sharp slashes of bone that highlighted her always-devastating round eyes and full lips. It was her alright. I’d know this woman anywhere.

“Hi, Fallon.” I’d been dreamin’ of this moment for the better part of a decade and still, my heart wasn’t prepared for those two words. My name on her lips left me with a toxic reaction.

My whiskey girl.

My damnation and my savior.

“I need a fucking minute.” I dropped her shoulders, her touch still haunting my fingertips, and walked straight down the narrow hallway, pushing the rusted back door open so hard the hinges protested.

Warm, autumn air filled my lungs, replacing the empty feeling that seeing her again had left.

“Fallon…” Hell, she’d followed me out.

And hell if wanted her to, but I didn’t not want her to either.

The emotions bombarding my mind were just a-fucking-bout unbearable.

“I said, I need a fucking minute.” The sentence more of a growl than I intended. Before she could reply I stomped across the potholed parking lot, aimed for my heavy-duty Ford.

I yanked the door open, digging behind the driver seat for a fresh bottle of my favorite recipe.

I couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the half-full bottle I’d left in my dressing room, I had to get as far the fuck away from her just to clear my head and process what her being here even meant.

My hands circled the neck of the bottle and I opened it in a flash, chugging back the first warm bite of pleasure I’d been craving.

I tossed the cap on my dash and fished the keys out of my pocket, about to climb into the cab and make hay when fingertips painted a dark navy filtered into my vision and back out again, my goddamn truck keys hanging from one finger.

“Fuck,” I bit, crawling out of the cab and swiping for the keys.

My reactions were a helluva lot slower than I thought they were, how much of that bottle had I drank before the show? I shook the thought from my head, realizing this was probably about close to my average state of play on any given day. Runnin’ away from the life Augusta Belle and I’d had took something out of me. Something only whiskey could fill.

“I don’t care what your stupid ass does on your own time, but you’re not dying on mine, Fallon Gentry.”

My head pounded then, a whole fucking sentence out of her pretty pink lips, my body’s old dependable reaction to her infuriating every cell of me.

I’d never been in control when it came to Augusta, shouldn’t have been surprised that it was no different now.

“As irritating as ever, I see.” I bit, swiping for my keys one more time and missing, before I stumbled off around her, whiskey bottle clutched in my hand and hell on my mind.

Augusta was back and there wasn’t enough whiskey in the state of Tennessee to help me deal.

 ~ About the Author ~

Adriane Leigh is an Amazon Top 25 and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and erotic romance. Raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she was born with a book in her hand and won her first Young Authors award before the age of ten. She finished her first romance novel at 14, and hasn't stopped playing with words since. She earned a literature degree, co-founded and organized international book conventions with RARE: Romance Author & Reader Events, and has written more than 45 independent titles under various pen names.

Married to her own Prince Charming, she now lives among the sand dunes of Lake Michigan, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She's a romantic rebel and word junkie that believes wanderlust is life, is part of the #goodvibetribe, and wishes she had more time to read and knit scarves to keep her cozy during the arctic Michigan winters. Yoga pants, puppies, and mac and cheese also help. Never miss a release! Get an alert at: http://www.adrianeleigh.com

Praise for Adriane's work:

“Sizzling chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists…a perfect combination held together with Adriane Leigh’s addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn’t want to come up for air. I can’t wait for more!” – 

Alessandra Torre, Hollywood Dirt

“Adriane Leigh never dissapoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex, suspense and scandal…Leigh’s newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets.” – 

Jay Crownover, Marked Men

 

~ Connect with Adriane ~

Facebook ** Instagram ** Twitter ** Pinterest

~ Giveaway ~

Blog Tour Reveiw

BLINDSIGHT

The Complete Series
by
Adriane Leigh

All three books are included in this edition.

BLINDSIGHT (Part One)

I want her.

She thinks I need her.

What she doesn't know is she needs me more.

I'm hiring her to protect her.

To save her life.

To make her beg.

Because her big brown eyes make my d-ck pound and the thought of leaving her to the wolves makes my heart bleed. But the past is colliding with an out of focus present that's on course to a fatal future. Unless I can beat fate at its own game.

BLINDSIGHT (Part Two)

She and I were far from chance.

Our first meeting orchestrated.

Our forever ill-fated.

Because I'm her enemy.

I'm her savior.

I'm her nightmare Romeo.

She'll thank me at the end of this, and if she doesn't, I'll force her to beg.

BLINDSIGHT (Part Three - only available in the complete bundled series )

The web of secrets surrounding Hunter and Erin begins to unravel in the gripping final installment of the Blindsight series...

The only woman I've ever loved: taken.

The only man I've ever called a father: wanted.

I was hired to watch her, tasked myself with protecting her, and now I have to save her.

I tried to be her Romeo, but despite everything the past crashed into our lives like wild thunder.

She begged me to run, I begged her to stay, until a force greater than both of us took over.

Betrayal comes in threes, and the other shoe's about to drop.

*Blindsight is intended for a mature audience only due to graphic sex, violence, and language

~ Excerpt ~

``Ah, I see the little bird has awoken.'' A voice echoed and my eyes sliced around the room looking for the owner. A soft chuckle was the only response as my eyes, wide and watery, refused to focus. Shadowy fluorescent light bounced off every surface.

``Where am I?'' I choked, desperate for the answer while dreading hearing the voice again. My head felt heavy and confused, reminding me of the syringe they'd plunged into my arm when they'd taken me.

``Let's find out just what you know, shall we, Princess?'' The word turned my heart cold. Froze it to stone in two syllables. I didn't need to see the face in the door to know who it belonged to.

Him.

Bile rose in my throat as my eyes shuttered closed in my only mental defense. I was ready for a blow, a bat, maybe a crowbar. Guys like him liked to leave a calling card on your face. What happened in the following minutes would almost kill me. One fragile piece at a time.

``When did you call the Feds?'' John Ellis Walker, living embodiment of terror on the streets of Chicago, sneered at me with a crooked grin and chipped teeth.

``I didn't,'' I grit, my eyes remaining closed.

His hot breath washed across my face. ``Bullshit.'' He caught my elbow and tightened. Pain seared through my shoulder when he twisted my arm in warning.

``I didn't. It wasn't Hunter either,'' I defended lamely. This was not the plan. Think fast, Erin. Think survival. ``He didn't have anything to gain by doing that, and neither did I. I don't know anything.''

``You had everything to gain.'' The pad of his thumb touched my chin and worked my jaw to the side before swiping his thumb across his tongue and smearing saliva down my cheek. ``Wouldn't want you dirty for when Prince Charming gets here.'' He stalked back to the doorway.

My prince. Could Hunter really get here? Oh God, JW had taken me to get to Hunter. Of course that was the reason. A sob fell from my throat as I made a sad attempt at shuffling across the damp concrete on my knees.

``Why the hurry to leave, Princess? Fun's only begun.'' JW hauled me up by my shackled wrists and plopped me in a rusted metal chair, taking me by surprise and pressing a hunk of cold metal at my throat before I could blink. His rough hand slid through my snarled hair and gave a sharp tug. He stuck his nose against my ear and inhaled, the chilled metal still dancing across my skin as he took his fill of my scent. ``No wonder Clu's puttin' it to ya. He's got a thing for the sweet ones.'' He tapped the metal at my jugular before pulling away. ``Where the fuck did that snake you married put the money?'' JW asked again, then released me with an angry jerk, taking a step back and tapping the barrel of the gun under my chin to raise my eyes to his. They fluttered open, my confidence boosted with the realization that if JW thought I knew where the money was, he wouldn't kill me.

``I have some ideas,'' I answered, holding his golden, serpent-like gaze. JW kicked at the legs of my chair causing it to wobble and tip to the cold floor, leaving me even more banged and bruised.

``Cut the games. Just like your slut mother.'' JW kicked at the chair again. ``I hope you don't know where my money is, Princess, because if I find out you do, I'm pulling your pretty teeth out one by one.'' His dank breath filtered through my nostrils and curdled my stomach.

``He's here,'' the other man I'd met at the VIP lounge only weeks ago boomed. He must have recognized me. How could he not? But then again, I probably wouldn't recognize myself after lying on a grungy concrete floor, my body caked with grime and bruises.

``Perfect.'' JW stalked from the room, slamming the heavy door as he went. I heard the scrape of an industrial lock announcing my dim fate. I looked around the room, spotting a window filtering a minuscule amount of daylight in. But the walls were at least ten feet tall, no way could I reach. I swallowed the ache in my throat as my gaze cast around the room. Nothing. There was nothing. My stomach turned, and just as I thought they could have at least left me a waste basket to throw up in, a gunshot echoed through the long tunnel of the building.

``Oh God.'' No. No. No. My stomach dropped and I bolted to the steel door and pressing an ear to it. ``Hunter. Please. Not. Hunter.'' I sobbed and prayed in equal turn, waiting for anything to betray the truth of the situation.

Nothing. Cold, empty silence. My stomach burned and rolled before I slumped to the floor on my knees in reckless sobs.

Please, not Hunter.

~ Links to Buy ~

Amazon ** Amazon UK ** Amazon CA 

 ~ Review ~
What an end to this super sexy suspenseful serial.  Adriane held my attention from the first mention of Hunter Ellis and had me on the edge of my seat until the very end.  The 3rd installment of this series was no different from the previous ones.  We get more insight into Erin's husbands involvement in her present predicament.  We learn that secrets no matter how well hidden never stay that way and we of course get a resolution to Erin & Hunter's story.

I think what I loved most about Hunter was his ability to be rugged no nonsense one minute and then turn compassionate, understanding as soon as he is near Erin.  They seemed like total opposites throughout the series but they brought each other to life.

There of course were some twists and turns.  A few I saw coming and others I did not.  The ride with Hunter and Erin is not an easy one but it is definitely worth the ride.  Well done Adriane! Looking forward to what you have coming next!

~ Rating ~

~ About the Author ~

USA Today Bestselling Author Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and now lives amongst the sand dunes of the Lake Michigan lakeshore. She graduated with a Literature degree but never particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.Adriane is married to a tall, dark and handsome guy, plays mama to two sweet baby girls, and is a voracious reader and knitter.

~ Connect with Adriane ~

Facebook ** Goodreads ** Twitter
** Pinterest ** Website