Last updated on 02/16/2026
PREORDER NOW! WHISKEY, WORDS, AND WHISPERS by Sawyer Bennett is releasing February 24!
Why you will love this book:
- Small Town
- Friends to Lovers
- Second Chance
- Returning Home
- Slow Burn
- Found Family
- Community Healing
- Mutual Pining
- Golden Retriever Hero
- Everyday Intimacy
Preorder here : https://geni.us/SB_Whiskey
Excerpt:
The fabric of Sam’s T-shirt is bunched in my fists and I don’t want this kiss to break. I mean… who needs oxygen anyway?
“Penny…,” he warns. He’s thinking the same as me. This feels like it’s getting ready to become very dangerous between us.
“Stop thinking,” I whisper against his mouth. “Just feel.”
“Oh, I’m feeling, all right,” he mutters before his mouth captures mine again in a bruising kiss.
I swing a leg over his lap and straddle him, putting us face-to-face. Sam groans, his hands catching me at my hips like he means to stop me. For one long heartbeat, he holds me there, breathing hard, caught somewhere between don’t and please. Then his grip shifts from resistance to permission, as he leans back just enough to make room for me.
The couch creaks as I shift, knees on either side of his hips, and he makes a rough sound at the back of his throat that goes straight through me.
“Penny, I’m not gonna lie… you straddling my lap has my brain close to short-circuiting and I’d be a fool to tell you to stop. But… I’m going to tell you to think about it.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I whisper, not sure which part I’m agreeing to—go slower, don’t spook him, keep kissing him until we both forget our names. Maybe all three.
My grip on his shoulders, I lower my head so my mouth can meet his. Sam’s hands hesitate at my waist like he’s afraid of being greedy, then settle there, fingers splayed, both reverent and possessive in the same beat.
His mouth moves over my jaw, down the line of my neck, where his teeth scrape deliciously against my tender skin. His fingers flex into my hips, pushing me down to feel every inch of him. He pins me there, head pulling back slightly to stare at me.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, “and I will.”
I circle my hips, creating friction between our bodies that almost makes me lose any shred of restraint I have. “Tell me to stop, and I absolutely won’t.”
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