Whiskey, the latest in the Brewed series from Molly McAdams, is here! Look at that gorgeous cover. Keep reading for all the details.
I’m the Dixon who left.Through the good, bad, and worst imaginable, I stayed gone.
When I return home after a decade, I’m not surprised by the cold reception from my family . . . or my brother’s best friend.
Emberly Olsen.
I spent my childhood tormenting her.
Now these days with her feel like the cruelest sort of unintended revenge.
We’ve changed.
She’s changed.
Pure confidence and sensuality, but her pouty lips and heavy-lidded eyes scream contempt. And word around town? She’s untouchable.
But after sharing a few drinks, her snide comments turn teasing.
Sneers become smiles.
Huffs change to laughs.
Laughs to moans, sweeter than any sound.
Years of animosity ignite into carnal need and passion.
We can blame it on the whiskey.
I have a feeling we’ll try.
But we aren’t that drunk.
I finished the flower in the latte’s foam and handed off the large mug to Mrs. Black. The warmth and joy that swirled through me as she fawned over the art had a smile pulling at my face.
That was why Mom and I had dedicated so much time to learning the coffee industry. Why I’d been adamant that the café side of Brewed be an experience and not just somewhere to grab a great cup of coffee.
Because of Mrs. Black’s reaction, even though she was in here a few times a week and was very familiar with the latte art.
Because people wanted to stay and drink their coffee here . . . not rush off.
People came just to be here . . . in the place I’d put my heart and soul into.
I turned to clean out the milk pitcher and had it pulled out of my hands as Jennifer bumped up against my side.
“Boyfriend,” she said, voice hushed and tone urgent. “Boyfriend. Outside—boyfriend’s outside.”
I whirled around, butterflies erupting in my stomach when I saw Cayson reach the doors and slip inside.
Dark hair agitated as though he’d been running his hands through it.
Stormy eyes shifting toward me as though he’d known where to find me all along.
And then the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk, all dimples and dripping with sex, and I was pretty sure I melted into a puddle behind the counter.
“Oh my God, he’s here. He’s there. He’s looking at you,” Jennifer rambled quickly.
“Shut up,” I hissed, smacking at her hand when she grabbed my arm.
Not that she let go. She might’ve even tightened her grip when he started toward us, but I no longer cared.
Because I’d needed this.
I’d been craving this.
He’d woken with me yesterday, not trusting me to drive or walk to Brewed after going off so much work and such little sleep, and made sure I was at Brewed in time for the delivery.
After working until closing again, he’d carried me straight to bed despite my numerous protests and attempts at all sorts of other things. Although, in his defense, I’d started falling asleep as soon as he set me on the bed. In my defense . . . Amber Fest prep.
As I’d drifted to sleep wrapped in his arms for the third night, there’d been another faint brush across my temple and that same whispered vow.
“I’m here.”
It didn’t matter if I was averaging out three hours a night, I was fairly certain I’d been getting the best sleep of my life wrapped up in Cayson Dixon.
“Hi,” I said when he rounded the counter. It was soft and swoony and girly and totally embarrassing, and there wasn’t an ounce of me that cared at that moment.
Because his hand was cradling my neck and his thumb was teasing my jaw, holding me so tenderly that I wasn’t sure how this could be real.
But I would gladly stay in this dream if it meant his touch and that look.
His stare shifted to the side before slowly moving back to me. “You know, anywhere else, the entire town wouldn’t have just stopped.”
That’s when I felt Jennifer’s death grip. The stares from everyone else in the café. The shop was suspended in an almost eerie quiet as if everyone was waiting for what would happen next.
Heat flamed at my cheeks even as a smile threatened at the edge of my mouth.
His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, gently tugging it free when I hadn’t even realized I’d pulled it between my teeth.
“Knees,” he murmured meaningfully.
Jennifer whimpered.
I jerked my head back and turned to face her. My wide stare letting her know that she should be anywhere else at that moment other than attached to me.
It still took a few seconds for her dopey-eyed gaze to clear and for her to scramble away.
By the time I looked at Cayson again, he was fighting a laugh.
“Don’t make my employees swoon,” I chastised and pushed against his chest, but he just grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to kiss my temple.
Molly McAdams does so well with wrapping you up in her characters and stories. Whiskey is no exception. From Cayson's relationship with his family and what he went through in the past to Emberly's struggle with her feelings for Cayson and how to resolve them with everything she knows, Whiskey is an emotional, tear-jerking roller coaster of a story. I highly recommend it.
Molly grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. When she's not diving into the world of her characters, some of her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling, and long walks on the beach . . . which roughly translates to being a homebody and dishing out movie quotes with her hubby. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies and loves curling up in a fluffy blanket during a thunderstorm . . . or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren't really happening.
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