Betting On It (Callahan Brewery #1)
by Violet Blake
ebook, 1, 292 pages
Published November 18th 2014 by Violet Blake
ISBN139780692314265
Recent college grad Blair Bartlett thought she had it all—until one near-death experience destroyed everything. Now she’s starting over halfway across the country with zero confidence, zero trust, and zero in the bank.
On the eve of her canceled wedding, her so-called friends formulate a bet to dig Blair out of her rut: in the next thirty days, she has to complete ten erotic dares that would make most married women blush. The stakes are high, and this is one bet she can’t lose.
Wary of messy entanglements, she recruits her best friend’s older brother—and longtime friend—Sawyer Callahan. Deemed Colorado’s most eligible bachelor, he’s successful, fun-loving, and knows exactly how to make a girl, um…swoon.
But as the weeks tick by, Blair knows the friendship has become much more than she’s bargained for. And something dark in Sawyer’s past is threatening to ruin their future before it even had a chance.
EXCERPT:
Saturday morning started off great. And by great, I mean on my couch, the world spinning, and me too afraid to jump off. A persistent pounding sounded somewhere in my audial periphery, and made me clench my eyes tighter.
But then a masculine voice cut into the chaos, calling my name. Oh, this only got better.
Let me start by saying something about Sawyer. Hearing his voice was tantamount to being lost in the mountainous wilderness, starving, only to stumble into a clearing where you see a mountain of chocolate, complete with Nutella waterfalls, and a lake full of your favorite beer. The deep resonance, the easy way he spoke, the sincerity behind it…it was something I’d begun to crave. I won’t even go into the way his laugh made my lady bits feel.
I sat up, pinched my nose at the increased spinning and pounding, and waited for my insides to adjust.
“Coming,” I grumbled, the word slicing through my brain like a pack of pirates with machetes.
The pounding stopped. “Are you all right in there? I waited by the fountain for half an hour.”
Crap.
We were supposed to meet for a run this morning. I groaned and did my best not to crawl to my door. It opened and he stood on the other side, in all his sextastic glory. Wearing a T-shirt from his brewery, black running shorts, and a pair of Ray-Bans, he was nothing short of perfectly fuckable. I wondered for a moment if this was a dream—it was the perfect porno setup. All we were missing was some bow-chika-wow-wow guitar music.
He pushed his sunglasses up on his head. He tilted his head, and somewhere behind that cheeky glint in his eye lurked male admiration. Amusement practically dripped from the small smile he cracked. “Nice running clothes.”
I looked down and realized I still wore my dress. And heels. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s, um, apocalypse training. You never know when those suckers will happen. You could be at home, at work, or at a party after having somewhere between three and seven martinis.”
He chuckled and shoved his sun-streaked, golden-brown hair out of his forehead. “I take it you’re hungover?”
The punishing vise crushing my temples intensified. “Hungover is such an understatement.”
He raised his hand to my face, and pried a green gummy bear from my cheek. “You know what you need?”
Kill me now. I plucked the candy from his fingers and hid it behind my back. “As long as it doesn’t involve the Kama Sutra, I think we’re good.”
He coughed to cover a laugh—so obvious—and shook his head. “You’re still drunk.”
“Maybe.”
“You need greasy hangover nachos. Let’s get you to Anita’s.” That was everybody’s go-to hangover hangout throughout college. He was five years older than Jessica and I, but he’d been going through grad school when we were undergrads. We’d been on more than a few hangover runs together.
After all the talk last night about how much I had it for him I felt like I was playing whack-a-mole with my feelings, knocking them out one at a time. Which was a thousand times harder in my state.
“Okay,” I said, playing it cool the best I could manage. I turned and made for my room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I about upchucked from the vision of myself in the mirror. The thing staring back at me was ripped straight from a Dateline NBC segment—definitely the murdered prom date found dead in a ditch highlight reel. Wrinkled party dress, heels, mascara caked under my eyes, and champion bedhead. And to think I had a gummy bear on my face minutes ago. Sawyer should’ve run while he had the chance.
I took some Advil, combed my hair and wound it into a bun, washed my face, and put on a green sundress with a pair of black Converse sneakers. No illuminator in the world would make me look perky this morning, but I gave it my best shot, finishing my ensemble with some mascara and shimmery blush. At least I wouldn’t get the cops called on me if I went in public like this.
When I entered my living room the whole prom date in a ditch thing sounded like an okay alternative.
Sawyer had been left alone. With the painting. And now he’d seen me naked.
Fuck.
Stunned as I was, I didn’t miss the way he stared at it. Somewhere between “mountain lion eyeing the Easter Bunny” and “playboy scoping out his next bed buddy.” My libido gave my mortification the five-finger death punch. If he kept looking at my painting that way, I’d have to hand him my list, maybe ask him for help.
I shook my head. What the hell?
I couldn’t do anything with Sawyer. For one, he was my best friend’s cousin—practically her brother. That was one way for friendships to go sour, fast. I don’t care what the girls said last night. Two, he was way out of my league. And by way out, I mean I lived in Colorado and he lived on Jupiter.
I raised my arm and leaned against the doorframe—because who could stand upright without support when he looked like that?—and summoned droll amusement into my voice. “Should I leave you two alone together? I can bring you back some nachos.”
He blinked and shook his head, then turned his attention toward me while he stuffed a paper into his pocket. His eyes were glazed, narrowed, intense. Moisture glistened on his lips where he’d just licked them. “Is that…is that you?”
“Why does everybody have to act so surprised?” I took my purse from the coffee table and put the strap over my shoulder.
“Holy shit, Blair. You are—just—wow.” He swallowed hard and adjusted his shorts. “Who painted it?”
Surely that wasn’t jealousy turning his skin green. Surely not.
I bit the inside my cheek to stop myself from doing a split jump or something equally victorious. I’d always had a crush on Sawyer—who wouldn’t? The man was fucking hot—but I never expected him to see me remotely in the realm of anything attractive. “Um, I did.”
His expression became blank. Like he deliberated a huge business deal but didn’t want the other party to see his true interest. He was not a man who let his poker face slip. He was COO of a corporation. He was wealthy, educated…my inspiration for late night fantasy. And at the moment he was speechless.
People who lived in the friend zone didn’t look like that…did they?
Shaking my head, I grabbed the quilt off my couch and tossed it over the painting. “Shall we get breakfast?”
He only nodded.
Saturday morning started off great. And by great, I mean on my couch, the world spinning, and me too afraid to jump off. A persistent pounding sounded somewhere in my audial periphery, and made me clench my eyes tighter.
But then a masculine voice cut into the chaos, calling my name. Oh, this only got better.
Let me start by saying something about Sawyer. Hearing his voice was tantamount to being lost in the mountainous wilderness, starving, only to stumble into a clearing where you see a mountain of chocolate, complete with Nutella waterfalls, and a lake full of your favorite beer. The deep resonance, the easy way he spoke, the sincerity behind it…it was something I’d begun to crave. I won’t even go into the way his laugh made my lady bits feel.
I sat up, pinched my nose at the increased spinning and pounding, and waited for my insides to adjust.
“Coming,” I grumbled, the word slicing through my brain like a pack of pirates with machetes.
The pounding stopped. “Are you all right in there? I waited by the fountain for half an hour.”
Crap.
We were supposed to meet for a run this morning. I groaned and did my best not to crawl to my door. It opened and he stood on the other side, in all his sextastic glory. Wearing a T-shirt from his brewery, black running shorts, and a pair of Ray-Bans, he was nothing short of perfectly fuckable. I wondered for a moment if this was a dream—it was the perfect porno setup. All we were missing was some bow-chika-wow-wow guitar music.
He pushed his sunglasses up on his head. He tilted his head, and somewhere behind that cheeky glint in his eye lurked male admiration. Amusement practically dripped from the small smile he cracked. “Nice running clothes.”
I looked down and realized I still wore my dress. And heels. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s, um, apocalypse training. You never know when those suckers will happen. You could be at home, at work, or at a party after having somewhere between three and seven martinis.”
He chuckled and shoved his sun-streaked, golden-brown hair out of his forehead. “I take it you’re hungover?”
The punishing vise crushing my temples intensified. “Hungover is such an understatement.”
He raised his hand to my face, and pried a green gummy bear from my cheek. “You know what you need?”
Kill me now. I plucked the candy from his fingers and hid it behind my back. “As long as it doesn’t involve the Kama Sutra, I think we’re good.”
He coughed to cover a laugh—so obvious—and shook his head. “You’re still drunk.”
“Maybe.”
“You need greasy hangover nachos. Let’s get you to Anita’s.” That was everybody’s go-to hangover hangout throughout college. He was five years older than Jessica and I, but he’d been going through grad school when we were undergrads. We’d been on more than a few hangover runs together.
After all the talk last night about how much I had it for him I felt like I was playing whack-a-mole with my feelings, knocking them out one at a time. Which was a thousand times harder in my state.
“Okay,” I said, playing it cool the best I could manage. I turned and made for my room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I about upchucked from the vision of myself in the mirror. The thing staring back at me was ripped straight from a Dateline NBC segment—definitely the murdered prom date found dead in a ditch highlight reel. Wrinkled party dress, heels, mascara caked under my eyes, and champion bedhead. And to think I had a gummy bear on my face minutes ago. Sawyer should’ve run while he had the chance.
I took some Advil, combed my hair and wound it into a bun, washed my face, and put on a green sundress with a pair of black Converse sneakers. No illuminator in the world would make me look perky this morning, but I gave it my best shot, finishing my ensemble with some mascara and shimmery blush. At least I wouldn’t get the cops called on me if I went in public like this.
When I entered my living room the whole prom date in a ditch thing sounded like an okay alternative.
Sawyer had been left alone. With the painting. And now he’d seen me naked.
Fuck.
Stunned as I was, I didn’t miss the way he stared at it. Somewhere between “mountain lion eyeing the Easter Bunny” and “playboy scoping out his next bed buddy.” My libido gave my mortification the five-finger death punch. If he kept looking at my painting that way, I’d have to hand him my list, maybe ask him for help.
I shook my head. What the hell?
I couldn’t do anything with Sawyer. For one, he was my best friend’s cousin—practically her brother. That was one way for friendships to go sour, fast. I don’t care what the girls said last night. Two, he was way out of my league. And by way out, I mean I lived in Colorado and he lived on Jupiter.
I raised my arm and leaned against the doorframe—because who could stand upright without support when he looked like that?—and summoned droll amusement into my voice. “Should I leave you two alone together? I can bring you back some nachos.”
He blinked and shook his head, then turned his attention toward me while he stuffed a paper into his pocket. His eyes were glazed, narrowed, intense. Moisture glistened on his lips where he’d just licked them. “Is that…is that you?”
“Why does everybody have to act so surprised?” I took my purse from the coffee table and put the strap over my shoulder.
“Holy shit, Blair. You are—just—wow.” He swallowed hard and adjusted his shorts. “Who painted it?”
Surely that wasn’t jealousy turning his skin green. Surely not.
I bit the inside my cheek to stop myself from doing a split jump or something equally victorious. I’d always had a crush on Sawyer—who wouldn’t? The man was fucking hot—but I never expected him to see me remotely in the realm of anything attractive. “Um, I did.”
His expression became blank. Like he deliberated a huge business deal but didn’t want the other party to see his true interest. He was not a man who let his poker face slip. He was COO of a corporation. He was wealthy, educated…my inspiration for late night fantasy. And at the moment he was speechless.
People who lived in the friend zone didn’t look like that…did they?
Shaking my head, I grabbed the quilt off my couch and tossed it over the painting. “Shall we get breakfast?”
He only nodded.
Violet Blake Bio:
Violet grew up wanting to be many great things. However, she quickly found out she was too accident-prone to be an astronaut, veterinarian, or surgical nurse, and had to take some time off from college to formulate a Plan B. By the time she got to Plan X, she settled on a degree in public health. But while she was supposed to be studying for a pathophysiology test, she took up writing romance.
Career commitment issues aside, she is fiercely dedicated to her family, and those who are patient enough to overlook a few...quirks. And no, she's not going to swap writing (Plan Z, if you're keeping track) in for a new career any time soon. She's run out of letters, for one. Violet loves to write contemporary and fantasy, and one day hopes to get up the nerve to dive into futuristic. http://www.violetblake.com/
Tour-Wide Giveaway:
this series looks like it is going to be a lot of fun!
ReplyDeleteSexy cover , and book sounds interesting
ReplyDeleteLove the excerpt =) Can´t wait for my chance to read more!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the giveaway & Happy Thursday!
//Linda
this looks and sounds awesome! Thanks for sharing :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for the excerpt. Sounds like a great story.
ReplyDeleteNow that is one sexy as sin cover... *fanning self*
ReplyDeleteLove the excerpt & cover.
ReplyDeleteIt looks like a story I would enjoy.
ReplyDelete