His life was never easy. Hers wasn’t supposed to be this hard. They come from different worlds, but fate lures them together in a way neither expected in Cecy Robson’s raw, steamy New Adult debut—perfect for fans of Monica Murphy and J. Lynn.
Evelyn Preston’s future once looked perfect—until her wealthy father was caught in an embezzlement scandal and took his own life. Alone and struggling to pay her college tuition and bills, Evelyn finds a job as a waitress at the ultra-hip nightclub Excess, where she used to have more in common with the privileged private-school clientele than her fellow staff members. But something attracts her to the sexy six-foot-four bouncer and underground MMA fighter Mateo Tres Santos. Although they’ve led different lives, their troubled pasts bonds them in both survival and love.
Mateo is ex-army who wound up in prison for assaulting the man who harmed his sister. Now he’s feeling the same protective impulse for this petite blond waitress. When Evelyn experiences a panic attack at the club, Mateo comes to her rescue. And when Mateo is wounded shielding her from a brawl, Evelyn returns the favor and comes to his aid.
As their attraction intensifies, Mateo is determined to find out what nightmares are lurking in Evelyn’s past—even if that means tackling his own to save her.
Excerpt
“Malibu
Barbie. We need more cocktail napkins!”
I
stopped wiping the bar booth, torn between throwing my bucket at Sam or at the
cluster of bouncers chuckling at his Barbie dig. I still had two more booths to
clean before the doors to the Main Line’s infamous Club Excess opened and the
real work began. A crowd of spoiled brats―offspring of Philly’s wealthiest
families―with too much money and too much attitude already crowded the doors. I
should know. I used to be one of them. Except they still had the money.
I had a
screaming boss.
“Malibu!”
“Jesus,
Sam, I’m going.” I tossed my towel on the table and stomped across the dance
floor in my black, thigh-high boots. If it weren’t for the crazy tips the drunk
idiots dropped like bowling balls, no way would I work at a place where I had
to accessorize tiny black shorts and a skimpy tank with these hooker boots. The
white dress shirt tied at my belly was Sam’s way of compromising when me and a few of the other waitresses complained
about our new “uniforms.” The more desperate among us tied it closer to their
cleavage. I didn’t. Even if it meant less money, I wanted to hang on to what
little pride I had left.
My steps
slowed as I neared the group of bouncers huddled around Mateo. He was young,
younger than at least half of them, and still they looked up to him.
’’Considering Mateo was an ex-con who fought in fight clubs, you’d think the
staff would avoid him’’. I sure did. Hell, I’d barely spoken to him in the six
months I’d worked at Excess, using any excuse to keep my distance. That said,
there was something about him that made people take notice. His burly arms
crossed his chest. Power was inked on one forearm in bold Gothic lettering,
Wrath on the other, and black flames crawled up both, disappearing beneath the
sleeves of his tight black T-shirt.
My puny
shoulders tensed as I drew closer. Mateo had served time for beating some poor
guy so brutally the guy had spent two weeks in the hospital recovering from the
bashes to his face and body. I watched Mateo, a lot. Every now and then, I’d
catch him glancing my way, too. He’d offer me a brief nod or a small smile, but
I never offered anything in return. His size, the depth of his voice, and his
aptitude for violence scared me, despite his captivating looks. He moved like a
panther staking out his turf, ready for anything, his steely hazel eyes taking
everything in.
He spoke
low and rough as the last of his crew arrived. “Listen up. Keep the drugs and
the dealers out. They come in with that shit, you see anyone selling―send their
asses out the door. Sam doesn’t want another OD in his place. If those rich
pricks want to die, they can do it somewhere else.”
The
others answered Mateo with stiff nods, except for Dale, who whistled as I
walked by.
“Nice ass, Evelyn . . .”
“Nice ass, Evelyn . . .”
His
voice trailed off. I turned to shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder only to
catch the death glare Mateo was firing his way. “Leave Evie the fuck alone and
pay attention, Dale,” Mateo told him. Dale immediately dropped his gaze,
allowing Mateo to return his attention to the rest of the group. “With the
first week of classes over, these fools are looking to party hard, and the
dealers are ready to assist. ““Don’t go it alone. Call for backup if you need
it, when you need it. I’ll take point near the bar. Ant’s my second. He’ll take
point left of the floor. If I’m mixed up in some other shit, you call him. Got
me?”
The
bouncers collectively muttered in agreement. Even Dale.
My heart
was thumping against my sternum and I lost my footing. I reached for my
ponytail and tightened it fast, trying to pretend that was the reason I’d
tripped and not, absolutely not, because ’Mateo had stuck up for me and shut
Dale up on my behalf. Or because he’d called me “Evie.” Again. No one else had
ever called me that.
About the Author
CECY (pronounced Sessy) ROBSON is the Penguin Random House New Adult author of Once Perfect, Once Loved, and Once Pure, and the award-winning author of the Weird Girls Urban Fantasy Romance series. A self-proclaimed professional napper, Cecy counts among her talents a jaw-dropping knowledge of useless trivia, the ability to make her hair big, and a knack for breaking into song despite her family's vehement protests. A writer, registered nurse, and mother living in the South, Cecy enjoys spending time with her family and silencing the yappy characters in her head by telling their stories.
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