Toying with Her by Prescott Lane
Release Date: August 17th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Toying with Her, an all-new standalone from Prescott Lane is coming August 17th!!!
No one said finding love was easy, but when you invented the worldโs best selling vibrator, itโs near impossible. Yep, thatโs right. That little toy hidden in your bedside table is my brain child. Itโs aptly named Woman on Top. And you know what they say . . . itโs lonely at the top.
So Iโm headed home to my Southern roots. Itโs supposed to be an extended Summer vacation โ nothing more. But Rorke Weston has other plans for me. Plans that not only involve me being on top, but also underneath him.
Itโs been said you never forget your first. For me, thatโs definitely true. No night has ever lived up to the one I spent with Rorke.
Heโs turned into quite a man. Tan from the Southern sun, and stubborn as the day is long. And thereโs nothing sweeter than the swipe of his tongue.
Rorke wants his chance. The one we never had. But that was a long time ago. When I still believed in Prince Charming and Happily Ever Afters. Even ten years later, I feel a pull. And itโs not simply Rorke yanking down my panties.
Do second chances really happen? Or is my heart simply toying with me?
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Excerpt:
Hammering the nail with one hard pound, I mutter, โFriends?โ
That should be a cuss word, especially coming out of her full, pink lips. I toss the hammer aside, scanning the mostly-converted barn. Yep, I live in a barn. Well, not any barn. The barn where Sterling and I lost our virginity. I know just the spot. Itโs the spot where my bed is now.
I didnโt plan it that way. In fact, I didnโt even really think about it until she showed up in town the other day. I came home, walked in, and realized Iโve designed this place around her. Crazy, but true. That woman has burned herself into the deepest parts of my soul. Deeper than even I realized. She was my first, a memory. I thought it was over. I thought weโd only ever get that one night. She had her life, and I had mine. I didnโt see this coming.
This old barn sits on the edge of my parentsโ property. It sucks to be almost thirty and still living on my parentsโ land. Technically, Iโm not living at home, but sometimes it feels like it. Unfortunately, buying my own house on my teaching salary isnโt in the cards, so a few years ago, I started converting one of the old barns.
Every nail, every piece of wood in here has been touched by me. And itโs almost done. Itโs wide open, designed that way mostly because itโs less work than putting up a bunch of walls. The only room with any privacy is the bathroom. I left the distressed rafters from the ceiling exposed and just refinished them. The original sliding barn doors have been replaced with new ones. Almost one whole wall houses my personal library. The only thing left to finish is the kitchen. The upper cabinets are in, but my only appliances are a refrigerator and microwave. So any real meals I eat come from the main house โ my parentsโ house. My plan is to use part of my summer vacation to finish it up.
I look over at the bed. My subconscious must have taken over with that decision. Sterling is etched into the fiber of this place. Maybe thatโs the reason I havenโt ever brought a woman to see this place before? Who knows? The subconscious is a tricky bitch.
But the memories of that day and night are so vivid. Itโs all flooding back now that sheโs back.
I remember a buddy of mine had rushed me home my freshman year of college, making the two-and-a-half-hour drive from New Orleans in just under two. But I was too late. I wasnโt here when Levi took his last breath. Those few days are a blur. Everything is a blur until the moment I stood up at his funeral to speak; her green eyes were the only thing I saw, her whimpers the only ones I heard. I hadnโt expected her to be there. I hadnโt expected her to fly home from college to say goodbye to my brother, but she had. And I didnโt expect her to find me at my parentsโ house after the funeral. I swear, there were hundreds of people there, and it was the loneliest day of my life. I had to get out of there and started walking. Iโm not sure if itโs just me, but when I need to think, I tend to walk. That day, Sterling was by my side. We didnโt talk, roaming around the fields until we ended up at this old barn. It was the place that Levi and I escaped to. As little kids, weโd used it as a fort, a clubhouse. Later, it held our bikes and four wheelers.
I remember being embarrassed bringing Sterling inside. It was old and filled with our junk. The only place to even sit was an old, beat up sofa. We made good use of it, though.
Iโve never been as unprepared for something as I was that day. Unprepared to put my brother in the ground, unprepared to lose my virginity, unprepared to let her walk away.
I chuckle remembering exactly how unprepared I was when our naked bodies first touched. My brain thought โcondom.โ But I didnโt have one. My dick promised itโd pull out. But I had no idea the kind of willpower that would take. I swear to God, I had every intention of pulling out.
I thought for sure that sheโd kill me, and quickly launched into the lamest apology in the history of the universe. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I was never so thankful for anything in my whole life as when she kissed me to shut me up, whispering she was on the pill.
Some might think itโs a dick move to be banging a girl the day you bury your twin brother. But it wasnโt like that at all. It wasnโt cheap. I didnโt think of it as a one-night stand, even though technically it was. Itโs impossible to explain. It was us clinging onto life, onto each other. Emily Brontรซ wrote, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.โ And after that night, our souls have been forever linked.
Every single second of that night is burned into my mind, my heart, my skin.
After that night, we stayed in touch for a long time โ email, phone calls. But we were thousands of miles apart. And our paths never crossed again. If I was at home on break, she wasnโt. It just seemed like it wasnโt meant to be. She is the one that got away. We never got our chance.
Now sheโs back, and she thinks we can be friends? I spent my entire childhood and teenage years being โfriendsโ with her.
She wants to be friends? Thatโs fine. Iโll be her friend. But Iโll be damned if thatโs all I am.
About the Author:
Prescott Lane is the Amazon best-selling author of Stripped Raw. She’s got seven other books under her belt including: First Position, Perfectly Broken, Quiet Angel, Wrapped in Lace, Layers of Her, The Reason for Me, and The Sex Bucket List. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and holds a degree in sociology and a MSW from Tulane University. She married her college sweetheart, and they currently live in New Orleans with their two children and two crazy dogs. Prescott started writing at the age of five, and sold her first story about a talking turtle to her father for a quarter. She later turned to writing romance novels because there aren’t enough happily ever afters in real life.
Connect with the Author:
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Twitter: @prescottlane1
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