RELEASE BLITZ WITH EXCERPT: Tempting Promises by Corinne Michaels
TEMPTING PROMISES, an enemies-to-lovers, forced-proximity, small-town romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Corinne Michaels, is available now!
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What happens in the woods, doesn’t always stay in the woods…
What’s the worst thing you could do when you’re stranded in the woods with your rival? Sleep with him. That’s what.
Not only is Rowan Whitlock my sister’s ex, but we’re both vying for the contract that would save my family farm.
So why did it have to be Rowan who came to the rescue after I fell on a remote hiking trail? When the weather turned unexpectedly, we were forced to find shelter and ride out the storm. Only that wasn’t the only thing I ended up riding.
We promise ourselves what happens at the cabin stays at the cabin, but when we get back to Sugarloaf, it’s impossible to stay away from him. Those blue eyes captivate me, his strong body comforts me, and he makes me feel beautiful.
Which is crazy, right?
If only my stupid head would listen and stop this before my heart gets involved, but I keep going back because I’m already in too deep.
I should’ve known that the temptation wasn’t worth the risk because when it all falls apart, our promises are broken, and I’m afraid my heart will never recover.
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Narrated by Andi Arndt & Jason Clarke
EXCERPT:
I walk out into the abnormally freezing cold in early March, heading to my very old, very loved pickup truck I call Frankie, and open the passenger side. I do this because the driver’s side door doesn’t open. It’s been stuck since 1989, and I definitely don’t have the funds to fix it. I put the groceries on the floorboard and haul myself up.
“We drive on the left side here in America,” Rowan says as my ass is still hanging out of the door.
I get all the way in and turn to him. “And people say you’re the smart one?”
“They also say I’m the hot one.”
“Let’s not forget, the lying, cheating bastard one. I know I’ve heard that one too.”
Rowan grins. “Only your friends, darling, and that’s because you and your delusional sister spread the bullshit far and wide.”
I get into my seat, glare at him, and turn the key. “Whatever you say, asshole.”
I turn the key again since the engine didn’t turn over the first time. The truck sputters, but it doesn’t start.
I do it again.
Come on, Frankie, don’t fail me. Start.
My truck doesn’t do as I ask.
“Having truck issues?” he asks as he rests his arms on the window frame. “Need some help?”
“Not from you,” I grumble. God only knows what it is this time. Frankie has been around for a long time. He’s old, cranky, and paid off, which is what my grams said about Pop.
Frankie also has been temperamental as of late and clearly the universe is trying to make a point that he’s ready to retire.
I scoot back over to the passenger side, where Rowan is still leaning, and push the door open, not caring if it hits him.
It doesn’t move an inch. He is like a brick wall. “Can you move?”
“If you ask nicely.”
I’m so not in the mood for this. “Move.”
He tsks and shakes his head. “Manners, Sullivan.”
“Move, Whitlock,” I say again.
Rowan doesn’t because, why would he? “The word you’re searching for is ‘please.’”
“No, the word I’m searching for is ‘move’!”
He steps back, and I push again, the door opening this time. I jump down, stomp around to the front, and lift the hood. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.
The cables all look good, nothing appears to be leaking—not that I can see much over the pillows of steam from my breath. Still, I go over the things my grandpa always did. He was a master at keeping things running, and I wish, more than anything, that he was here now.
“Looks like your battery cable is loose.” Rowan’s voice startles me. “Right there, tighten that one.”
I look to where he’s pointing, which is the same area I just checked. Thankfully, I am smart enough not to make some snarky comment because, when I touch it? Sure enough, it’s loose. After twisting it back into place, I step back. “Thank you.”
“How did that taste?”
“Like battery acid,” I reply.
Rowan’s laugh is almost infectious. Almost.
“Go try it, I’ll stand here to adjust if it needs it.”
Accepting help from Rowan goes against every instinct, but I have no choice. I hop back into the cab and try again.
Still dead.
“Try again!” he yells back to me.
So I do, and Frankie fails me again.
He comes around the passenger side. “I think you need to call the shop.”
“Again with the helpful advice. I’ll call. Thank you for the help that didn’t help.”
“The guys are probably at Sugarlips,” Rowan informs me as if I hadn’t already known. Donny is the only mechanic in this town, and he works the most bizarre hours—probably because he’s drunk most of the day—and closes for three hours during lunch. Three. Who does that?
Of course, my truck breaks down during that timeframe.
“Well, I’ll wait until they’re done,” I say, waiting for him to leave.
There’s no reason for him to wait around.
“I know you need to get back to the farm. Why don’t you let me drop you off, and you can have Donny come look at it once he’s eaten enough bread to sober up.”
“I can walk,” I say, feeling defiant.
“I know you can, Charlotte, but it’s freezing out, and it’s at least eight miles. I’d rather not be accused of allowing you to die on the road. Get in my truck, I’ll take you home, and you can tell everyone that I browbeat you into going,” Rowan says before letting out a heavy sigh.
It’s really annoying that it had to be him who not only witnessed this but also has to help now. While my defiant nature wants to rebuke his offer, I’d like to keep all my fingers and toes, which probably wouldn’t happen if I walked home in this weather.
“Okay. I’ll let you do something nice for a change.”
“I knew your grandparents, and I know they taught you manners. You should be saying, ‘Thank you, Rowan, you’re such a great guy. I know I’ve been a raging—’” He pauses. “Insert adjective of your choice, ‘but I was wrong all along and accept and appreciate your help.’”
Oh dear God. “That’s never going to happen. A thank you is about all you’ll get.”
He opens the passenger door for me, grabs my bag of groceries, and walks over to his—very new and very large—truck.
“Overcompensating?” I ask, literally hanging on to the handrails and jump to get in.
I start to teeter back and his hand moves to my ass, pushing me up. “Get in the truck and be nice.”
About Corinne Michaels:
Corinne Michaels is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of romance novels. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love, and she enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak before finding a way to heal them through their struggles.
Corinne is a former Navy wife and happily married to the man of her dreams. She began her writing career after spending months away from her husband while he was deployed–reading and writing were her escapes from the loneliness. Corinne now lives in Virginia with her husband and is the emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun-loving mom of two beautiful children.
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