Synopsis:
Everyone has
secrets; secrets meant to be kept—hidden away where nobody can discover the
truth. Adrian O’Donnell (aka: Dre Donley) is no exception. Dre spins tales and
half-truths like it’s his job, keeping the reality of his past buried deep
within each lie he fabricates. On the other hand, Kathryn Howell is the
exception to the rule. She’s a straight-shooter, a tell-it-like-it-is, no
filter kind of girl.
Kathryn’s honesty and straightforwardness is the ultimate turn on for a guy like Dre. He’s never met someone so sincere, so full of truth and innocence. Their chemistry is unavoidable, their connection, magnetic. When Dre sets out to make Kathryn fall for him, he doesn’t realize the grave mistake he’s making. Kathryn’s strength and convictions do not falter, even for an irresistible man like Dre. When his past resurfaces, and the lies come tumbling forth, Kathryn must decide if his deceit and betrayal can be forgiven or if the damage is irreparable. Will the truth ultimately destroy the relationship that neither one of them could deny or even attempt to resist?
Kathryn’s honesty and straightforwardness is the ultimate turn on for a guy like Dre. He’s never met someone so sincere, so full of truth and innocence. Their chemistry is unavoidable, their connection, magnetic. When Dre sets out to make Kathryn fall for him, he doesn’t realize the grave mistake he’s making. Kathryn’s strength and convictions do not falter, even for an irresistible man like Dre. When his past resurfaces, and the lies come tumbling forth, Kathryn must decide if his deceit and betrayal can be forgiven or if the damage is irreparable. Will the truth ultimately destroy the relationship that neither one of them could deny or even attempt to resist?
About the Author:
Angelisa Stone
is a typical Midwestern wife and mom, frazzled by parenting and housework, and
overwhelmed with sports schedules, doctor appointments, and three-dimensional
creative projects due “tomorrow morning.” Angelisa dreams of white sandy
beaches, clear-blue waters, and Midori coladas in hand, but realizes that her
loving husband and four not-so-perfect children are her real dreams-come-true.
Writing and reading are her passions, and she hopes (and prays with her fingers
tightly crossed) that readers will find enjoyment and escape through her words
and characters.
Email Angelisa
for fun chatter and banter, giggles and chuckles: angelisaauthor@gmail.com
Follow Angelisa
on Twitter: @Angelisaauthor https://twitter.com/Angelisaauthor
Find Angelisa on
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/angelisa.stone
Check out Angelisa’s
profile on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18176355-can-t-go-home
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EXCERPT!!
“Little late getting back from lunch, eh?” I ask as Kathryn
gets out of her car.
“I didn’t
realize my stalker was keeping track of the time clock,” she says, uncapping
her lip-gloss.
Fuck. She is not going to put that on in front of
me. Don’t do it. Don’t.
Don’t. Aww fuck, she is. The
stick thing glides over her bottom lip, layering her lip in a thick, wet
shine. Holy shit. I can think of quite few other things that
I’d want to trail over those sexy lips.
“Hey Dre, cat got your tongue?”
Kathryn asks, winking at me. Well, well,
well, what do we have here? Kathryn Howell is flirting with me. This is a strange turn of events.
“No Ma’am, the cat most certainly
does not have my tongue. I can do
anything you’d like me to with my tongue…anything,” I say, seeing her sexual
innuendo, and doubling and raising anything she may add.
Fanning herself, she says, “It’s
getting too hot for my blood; I fold,” she announces, walking to the office
door. “Seriously though, what brings ya
back to the Agency?” she asks coyly.
“I wanted to see if a certain
literary agent wanted to have dinner tonight,” I admit.
“If she’s an agent, then she’s
probably ‘booked’ for the night,” she says, cracking herself up. I groan at her cheesy joke. “Ba-dump-ba! I’m here all night, folks.”
Kathryn Howell is adorable. She’s corny, quirky, and sexy too. I can’t take my eyes off of her. Smiling, Kathryn says, “Well, what’s her name? I’ll ask her when I get inside.”
“Katie something or other. Just tell her I’ll be out here tonight at
5:30,” I say, starting to walk away. I
stop, turn around, and add, “If she’s not here by 5:45, then I’m hitting up
that waitress, ‘Allie with i.’ I hear she’s got crabs, but I’ll take my
chances.”
Laughing, she says, “I’ll let her
know. Wouldn’t want those all-you-can-eat-crabs spreading all over town.” Kathryn waves, turns to leave, but stops, and
then looks back at me to add, “Oh…and Dre, please don’t call me ‘Katie.’ I hate
it.”
“Then you’ll never hear me say it
again,” I promise her. A grin travels
all the way across her face; you can even see the smile in her eyes. I thought she might be a little hard to get,
but this was going smoothly—very smoothly.
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