Leave The Night On
By: Laura Trentham
Releasing August 1, 2017
St. Martin’s Press
Love, betrayal, and sweet revenge–life in Cottonbloom is about to get a whole lot hotter . . .
Sutton Mize is known for lavishing attention on the customers who flock to her boutique on the wealthy side of her Mississippi town. So when she finds a lace thong in her fiance’s classic cherry-red Camaro, she knows just who she sold it to: her own best friend. In an instant, Sutton’s whole world goes up in flames. . .
Wyatt Abbott has harbored a crush on Sutton since he was a young kid from the other side of the tracks. He witnessed Sutton’s shocking discovery in the Camaro at his family-owned garage–and it made him angry. What kind of man could take lovely, gorgeous Sutton for granted? But then Sutton comes up with an idea: Why not give her betrothed a taste of his own medicine and pretend that she’s got a lover of her own? Wyatt is more than happy to play the hot-and-heavy boyfriend. But what begins as a fictional affair soon develops into something more real, and more passionate, than either Sutton or Wyatt could have imagined. Could it be that true love has been waiting under the hood all along?
Leave the Night On was a sweet, romantic story about Sutton and Wyatt. A surprise for someone else, turns into a surprise for Sutton. A fake romance then starts us off when Sutton is hurt.
Wyatt made this book for me, so sweet and charming, he really kept it together when I felt Sutton was being a bit overbearing. Wyatt is a mechanic, Sutton a southern belle. Leave the Night On is a great small town, opposites attract story. The dialogue was witty and fun, the characters were developed well. The story was paced very evenly. I was kept intrigued throughout the whole book. I would recommend to the reader looking for a sweet, small-town romance.
*Review copy requested and reviewed on behalf of OMGReads*
“Can I ask you a question? Something serious?” Sutton asked.
“Alright,” Wyatt said cautiously.
“Do you find me doable?”
His hand jerked on the steering wheel and sent the car skidding on the shoulder before he righted it. “Do I what?”
“Find me doable? Because that no-necked bouncer and those two brothers did.”
He choked on a gulp of air. What was happening? Had he crossed the river into the Twilight Zone instead of into Mississippi?
Her voice was as bland and conversational as if discussing commodity cotton prices. “Because I find you doable. Very, very, very, very doable.”
Her string of “verys” slurred together. She was drunk, which meant her thinking was impaired. Or . . . he glanced at her. Maybe, just maybe, the whiskey had stripped away her social niceties like turpentine to peeling paint, and she was being honest.
The woman had been put through the wringer by her best friend and her fiancé. Despite her wishes otherwise, she was nice. And sweet. And cute. And unbearably sexy in a way she didn’t even understand. Not yet anyway.
No way could he let this opportunity to be with her in whatever way possible slip through his fingers. While the ramifications went on repeat in his head, she slipped out of the car and headed to her door.
He rolled down his window and shimmed half-way out to see her over the top. “Hey, Sutton!”
She turned with only a slight wobble, jutted a hip, and set her hand on it. “What?”
“For the record, I find you extremely doable.”
An award-winning author, Laura Trentham was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee. Although, she loved English and reading in high school, she was convinced an English degree equated to starvation. She chose the next most logical major—Chemical Engineering—and worked in a hard hat and steel toed boots for several years.
She writes sexy, small town contemporaries and smoking hot Regency historicals. The first two books of her Falcon Football series were named Top Picks by RT Book Reviews magazine. Then He Kissed Me, a Cottonbloom novel, was named as one of Amazon’s best romances of 2016. When not lost in a cozy Southern town or Regency England, she’s shuttling kids to soccer, helping with homework, and avoiding the Mt. Everest-sized pile of laundry that is almost as large as the to-be-read pile of books on her nightstand.