#BWWMROMANCE, #HistoricalRomance, #SeriesRomance, #OysterHarborSeries
His
obsession with profits reminds her of every man who used her, especially the
one who shattered her heart. Meanwhile, his grief over his daughter’s death
intensifies when restaurant renovations uncover a shocking secret. Reminding
her of the child she lost so long ago.
And
as soon as Oyster Harbor restores what Thelma has craved for so long, her
dreams of family are ripped away, turning her song of joy to the bluest of
blues. Will Tom be the answer to her prayers, or her biggest heartache yet?
Excerpt
Silence hung between her and Tom, thick and greasy
as a lump of lard left out in the summer heat. Frozen, she watched the flush
rise up his neck and fill his face. No wonder he served a drink called Red
Tide.
What would he do? Break all business ties with
her? Or worse? At the moment, she didn’t care what he did. She simply needed to
get away from him.
“Miss Waters, don’t ever strike me again,” he said
quietly, “or there will be consequences.”
Ignoring the fine trembling working her legs, she
took a step closer to him. “What does that mean? Tying me to a tree like poor
Jimmy Clark?”
“I never touched a hair on his head,” he shot
back.
“You were there. Cali told me everything.”
Luckily, Jonathan had reformed.
“Do you want to be punished?” Tom asked. “Because
it seems you’re itching for a fight.”
He was right about that. Her fingers ached to
throw his sorry ass into the washing machine then iron his face. No need to add
starch because he already had plenty.
Instead, she burst into tears. Couldn’t stop. When
it came to Letty, she had no strength.
“Easy. Easy,” he muttered, patting her arm. “I
didn’t mean to make you cry, for Christ’s sake.”
“Watch your language,” she said between sniffles.
“You’re nothing but a heartless heathen. You know that?”
“You’re probably right.” He looped an arm around
her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
“Letty may mean nothing to you, but today….” Her
voice broke. “Today is her eighteenth birthday. Or would have been, if she’s
not drawing breath anymore.”
“I didn’t know.”
She turned her head to look at him. The arrogant
smirk was gone. His eyes, contrite. The skin below them, puffy.
He stiffened and dropped his hands when she traced
a soft fingertip under his lower eyelids. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“You’ve been crying too,” she whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, turning his face
aside.
“I’ve done it enough to know what it looks like.
Did my singing do that to you?”
“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “The one song
really— Well, it shook me up, kind of.”
Her legs stopped trembling. She even smiled.
“That’s what the blues are supposed to do.”
“I’ve probably been working too hard lately,” he
said, giving his shoulders a good shake.
Their gazes met and held. She struggled to look
away but failed. Truth was, it felt good to get angry for a change. The sadness
wore at her every day. Like sandpaper.
This man knew her sadness. Breathed its same
stench. Endured the same tentacles squeezing his heart. Even if he wouldn’t
admit it.
Now, her legs simply felt weak. Her entire body did.
The performance, topped off by their fiery argument, had taken every bit of her
strength. She rested her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his
chest.
His tall, solid frame felt so good. His heart
thrumming against her ear, music. It had been so long since she’d been with a
man.
A strong finger pressed her jaw and tilted her
face up. It was the last thing she recalled before drowning in a tidal wave of
hot, deep kissing. Beard stubble—black as his hair—brushed across her cheek.
Ground against her neck, along with his open mouth.
Tasting. Sucking. Claiming. Until every nerve
ending in her body shrieked with ecstasy.
She drew back, giving her pounding heart a rest
before it exploded. “I-I thought we weren’t going to kiss anymore.”
“I guess we changed our minds,” he murmured
against her ear.
