A fun read in a favorite troupe! 🙂
Book Title: DRUNK ON YOU
Author: TERI ANNE STANLEY
Release Date: July 21, 2015
Justin Morgan would happily drown the pain of his injured leg—and the guilt he brought back from Afghanistan—in bourbon. Except, there won’t be any booze if he doesn’t rescue his family’s century-old distillery from financial ruin. The problem? Allie McGrath—youngest daughter of the distillery’s co-owners, and the one woman he can’t have.
Allie has been in love with Justin since…well, she’s always been in love with him. Now he’s home, broken up over the death of her brother, and he needs help. She can fix the distillery—she’s sure of it—but no one’s taking her or her sweet new idea seriously. Convincing Justin is her only hope.
Allie is more tempting than Justin expected, threatening a promise he swore he’d never break. If he can’t keep their attraction under control, there’s a solid chance they’ll send the whole enterprise crumbling to the ground…if he doesn’t crash and burn first.
I had so much fun reading this book!
I absolutely loved Allie and Justin. I highlighted so many parts that made me laugh out loud (I even snorted unattractively a few times–shhh, don’t tell anyone!)as I was reading; I just couldn’t help myself. The best friend’s little sister troupe can be so much fun, especially when it’s as well done as it is here!
Poor Justin, he tried so hard to resist Allie’s charms, but he really never had a chance…
He put his arm around her as they walked back to the car. He’d reached the two-week mark in his recovery and was down to one crutch. He felt like a new man. The bruise on his chest from the rickhouse fire was just a green-and yellow memory at this point. The freedom to use his arms was electrifying. Especially since he could use the hand attached to one of those arms, any time he wanted, to touch Allie.
He’d turned into a total sap. Allowing himself to touch her was bringing out a level of corny he wasn’t completely uncomfortable with, which bothered the living shit out of him.
He needed to go to the gym. A boxing gym. A stinky, man-sweat-filled, jockstrap-displaying boxing gym. Where he could beat the hell out of a heavy bag and spit and scratch.
After he got Allie back to the camper and cheered her up with strawberries dipped in chocolate and kisses over every inch of her body.
Fortunately for him, Allie didn’t have much luck resisting him either:
She wasn’t sure she could spend the next week or so avoiding talking with him, but she could probably keep things light and friendly and avoid any mention of their embarrassing encounter at the country club. It would all be okay. Really it would. They could hang out, renew their friendship and she could purge herself of this newly reborn attraction. And maybe help lighten his load, because he wa surely carrying some emotional baggage.
Unless she managed to make it worse by losing her mind and groping him or begging him to grope her. In which case she’d just convert to Catholicism and find a convent somewhere.
See? So. Much. Fun.
Allie and Justin embark on an epic roadtrip–seriously, this could not be a more perfect summer read–in a very small camper that naturally puts them in deliciously close contact. They run into all kinds of fun people and situations along the way–the karaoke scene is especially awesome–make a heck of a business team together, and of course, fall in love.
Justin’s brother goes AWOL about two-thirds of the way into the book, and clearly is going to be the hero of his own story. Can’t wait! Oh, and Allie does have a (single!) sister…
Rating: 4 1/2 stars / A-
I received a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.
Justin tucked the towel around his waist and hoisted himself up onto his good leg, holding on to his crutches with one hand. Allie put a shoulder into his side and an arm around his waist. He tried not to lean on her, he really did. He tried not to put his free arm around her and smell her hair.
“Holy shit, Justin, you’re heavy.”
He couldn’t think about her soft body beneath his, those green eyes staring up at him, all soft and wanting. He was Justin the Buddy, not Justin the Creeper. “It’s because my manly muscles are extra dense. Like Superman, except instead of steel I’m a man of granite.
“You are the most full-of-crap person on the planet, do you know that?” And yet she didn’t pull away. If anything, her hand tightened on his waist.
“Let me go, babe. I can hobble in there under my own steam.”
She let him go, but hovered close by. From the corner of his eye, he could tell she was checking him out. He tried to gimp a little faster to keep her from noticing that his towel wasn’t hanging flat in the front.
They made it to the bathroom, and Allie turned on the faucets to fill the tub. She patted the edge, and he lowered himself to sit, his bum leg sticking awkwardly out into the room. He had to put his hand in hers to steady himself.
She knelt and began unfastening the Velcro strips holding the brace in place.
Jesus, Mary, and Uncle Steve. She was on her knees in front of him, and he was wearing a damned towel. He had a moment of dream déjà vu. A strand of rich honey hair had come loose from her ponytail and curled in the steam rising from the tub. He reached out to tuck it around his finger, but then pulled up short of actually touching her. She was Dave’s kid sister. No touching.
She looked up, something like heat in her eyes that was quickly masked by humor. “Do you want some Mr. Bubble in your tub?”
He actually considered it. She was going to have to help him in and out of the tub. But he couldn’t quite figure out how he was going to casually scoop a handful of bubbles over his semi-stiffy between dropping his towel and getting into the water.
He turned a little, to maneuver his good leg into the tub. He took a breath and grabbed the side of his towel, ready to yank it off.
Allie must have realized the reality of his predicament, because her face was red. She met his eyes with a stricken expression, then dropped her gaze like his groin was an eye magnet.
“It’s just a dick, Sneezy,” Justin said, pulling the towel off Band-Aid-style—all at once, to get the agony over with.
He lowered himself into the water while she cradled his damaged ankle.
She stared at his crotch. And kept staring.
Justin almost reached for the towel again.
“You’re right. It’s just a dick,” she said, once he was settled. She turned to walk out. “I’m going to get started on some work. Holler when you want to get out of the tub.”
“It’s not just a dick,” he called after her. “It’s a really nice dick!”
Teri Anne Stanley began her writing career with scientific articles—followed by a three-ingredient recipe column, but wasn’t allowed to write naked parts for them—so now she writes romance.
She’s also worked as a fashion designer for female body builders and a sex therapist for rats. In her spare time, she’s a neuroscience research assistant. Along with a variety of offspring and dogs, she and Mr. Stanley live just outside of Sugartit, which is—honest to God—between Beaverlick and Rabbit Hash, Kentucky.
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