Drunk on You by Teri Anne Stanley
Book Title: DRUNK ON YOU Author: TERI ANNE STANLEY Release Date: July 21, 2015 Book Synopsis: Justin Morgan would happily drown the pain of his injured leg—and the guilt he brought back from Afghanistan—in bourbon. Except, there won’tbe 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. Goodreads * Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Entangled Author Bio: 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. Website * Twitter * Facebook * Goodreads Newsletter: sign up at teriannestanley.com Giveaway Info: $25 Amazon gift card a Rafflecopter giveaway Excerpt 1: Allie wasn’t sure what had made her follow Justin outside. Testing herself, she supposed. The extra shot of bourbon after his father’s toast might have something to do with her compulsion to make a fool of herself, too. And the slug from the flask was definitely responsible for her current position, pressed against the hard planes of his chest. His hands came up to curve around her waist. This was crazy. But… “I believe you invited me to dance.” “Probably not a good idea,” he murmured, as he pulled her closer and slid his hands farther over her hips, up her back. He didn’t sway to the music, but his body was a solid column of heat, and somehow their feet moved them in a slow circle. The sound of the party inside was faint against the sound of her own sigh. She was slow dancing with Justin Morgan. His shoulders were hard curves beneath her hands, shifting slightly as he moved. “I should have recognized you earlier,” he said. “Would that have been good or bad?” Did she really want to know? Did he see past the dorky teenager she’d been to the hopefully more sophisticated woman she wanted the world to see? “I don’t know, babe.” His low chuckle sent a thrill through her. “You’re probably safer if I remember you’re off-limits.” “Why am I off-limits?” Her heel caught in a space between two stones, but she thought she heard him say something about “difficult promises” while she wobbled and tipped forward, her body pressing more fully against his and her face tipping up. “Whoa!” She was caught by his gaze, direct and deep. His eyes reflected the midnight sky, and something else…desire. But was it just a mirror of her own want? Off limits, he’d said… They weren’t turning to the music any more. Standing still, breath foggy in the dark, bodies aligned, his lips were close. Too close. She shifted, and felt—oh God—his erection, pressing against her belly. And he was still looking at her. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to touch her suddenly hypersensitive lower lip. His eyes telegraphed his intent before he bent his head toward her, brushing his lips against hers, lighting a fire in the cold spring night. A small kiss, barely a touch, but she felt it all the way to her core—not just between her legs, but somewhere farther inside, deeper, somewhere not on any anatomy chart. She gasped as he took the kiss deeper, his lips coaxing hers apart, his tongue sliding in against her own. He tasted of Blue Mountain bourbon, heat, and need. Allie felt a wall at her back; somehow they’d maneuvered themselves close to the building. Rough brick caught at her skirt when he pulled at the silky fabric, sliding his thigh between hers. Moaning, she leaned into his leg, the firm muscle only increasing her need to press against him. The ache rose, fast and high, and her legs began to tremble, to tighten. She reached between them and ran her hand over the front of his pants, feeling him hard under her stroking fingers. He groaned and thrust into her hand. She wanted to reach for his belt buckle to release all that power, but there was a roomful of family just a few feet away. If they took the time to find somewhere more private, this moment would end—this moment that had been a lifetime in the making.