He’ll have to confront the nightmares from his past if they’re to have
any chance at a future.
From the Start
American Valor #3
Cheryl Etchison
Releasing May 23, 2017
Avon Impulse
Kacie Morgan has had her fill of arrogant military men since the last one left her with a shattered heart and one heck of a career rut. Now, with her prestigious fellowship starting in the fall, all she has to do is survive the summer—and her little sister’s wedding.
When an ill-fitting bridesmaid dress has Kacie wanting to temporarily shake things up in her carefully planned life, she knows just the man to call. They agree to a no-strings, summer fling, although it isn’t long before Michael wants Kacie for forever.
But to win her heart, he’ll have to confront the nightmares from his past if they’re to have any chance at a future.
May 2013
Kacie
Morgan raised the cloudy glass tumbler to her lips and licked the course salt
from its rim, all the while surveying the bar, knowing she was officially in
hell. Despite it being a fairly new establishment—and a nice place as far as
bars went—it just wasn’t her scene. The cowboy hats and cowboy boots. The
painted-on jeans that both the men and women wore. The line dancing and
mechanical bull.
Then
there was the fact she couldn’t stand country music. She might have been born
and raised in the South, but the appreciation for songs about racing pickups
down red dirt roads, getting drunk on Jack, and skinny-dipping in farm ponds
must have skipped a generation.
She
sighed and turned back around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror
behind the bar.
Dear
God in the heavens. She shouldn’t have looked.
She
squeezed her eyes shut and tossed back the remnants of her margarita on the
rocks. A tang and tart shiver raced the length of her spine, her body squirming
involuntarily to shake it off.
Her
empty glass met the cow-print bar top a little heavier than intended, the
upside being it garnered the bartender’s attention. “Another?” He shouted to be
heard over the music.
“Sure,”
she said. “Why the hell not?”
He
came over to clear away the empty glass and his eyes roamed her chest as he
took his damn sweet time to read the front of her shirt. She didn’t have to
glance at the mirror again to know the club lights ignited the rhinestones
across her shirt, the word bridesmaid glimmering in the relative dark like a
’70s disco ball.
“Eight
weeks,” she chanted to herself. “Eight. More. Weeks.”
Just
eight weeks until the bachelorette weekend, the holiday weekend, the rehearsal
dinner, the wedding, all of it would be over. Her baby sister would be happily
married and, more importantly, her maid of honor duties would be complete. No
longer would she have to be overly friendly to women who were not her friends.
No longer would she be guilted into wearing questionable attire or spending
money she didn’t have on all of the cutesy little things they wanted her to
“chip in” on.
Kacie
handed the bartender a few bills as he returned with her drink, then resumed
leaning against the bar, watching as the country music gave way to hip-hop and
the puritans bolted for the bars and seated areas. In the span of a few
minutes, the dance floor became an instant bump and grind session for anyone
under the age of twenty-five or with more than a few drinks in them.
In
a sea of cowboy hats and baseball caps, her baby sister was easy to spot. The
rhinestone tiara with attached veil on her head glittered in the pulsing lights
as she bopped around the dance floor. And all the other bridesmaids were right
there with her.
If
she were a better maid of honor, a better big sister, she’d suck it up and join
them. But she just couldn’t find it in herself to move. Ever since her
well-planned future with a man she loved—or at the very least thought she
loved—had taken a deep dive into the toilet nine months earlier, she found
having fun an almost impossible feat. How sad. How pathetic.
With a pang, Kacie realized at the age of thirty-one she’d become what she always feared most—a total buzzkill.
With a pang, Kacie realized at the age of thirty-one she’d become what she always feared most—a total buzzkill.
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