*~*Love Note: Ash to Liv – True to You by Jodi Watters*~*
Olivia Quinn wasn’t looking for love. Climbing the corporate ladder at Coleson Creek Winery filled her days, and HGTV and a bottle of chardonnay filled her nights. Hooking up with the heir to that winery seemed a bad idea for her heart, and her employment status. But even a maxed-out Visa couldn’t make her say no to a weekend one-night-stand with a sapphire-eyed soldier who wore rugged and handsome like a tailored suit, and danger like a second skin.
A weekend, that led to a promise of a lifetime. Or so she thought.
Asher Coleson is former Special Ops and 100% alpha. The sole heir to a family winery he wants jack shit to do with, he’s the strong, silent type, hardened not by the military, but by the aching absence of his one true love. Underneath his aloof attitude and sinewy muscle—all six and a half feet of him—lies a man so loyal to his beloved Olivia, he’s living half a life. And that half doesn’t include sex. He’s a bit… backed up. And not happy about it, either.
These days, getting lucky means only one thing. Getting his wife back.
Check out the other books in the Love Happens Series!
The past is hot on her heels…
On the run and out of options, a desperate Ali Ross knows two things for sure…
Her ugly past will eventually catch up to her. And when it does, she’ll need a strong and loyal man to help her face the danger head on or risk losing everything.The girl is hard on his heart…
Looking for love and having no luck, former Army Ranger Sam Gleeson knows two things for sure…
His beautiful new neighbor is under his skin. And no matter what secrets she’s keeping, her seductive sweetness is wreaking havoc on his hardened heart.Hiding from a violent ex-husband, Ali knows the law can’t help her. She also knows someone like Sam can. Fearing her freedom, she hatches a shamelessly impulsive plan that’s as old as time. She’s willing to do anything to ensure her safety, and that includes doing the sexy soldier next door. But when their searing chemistry unexpectedly bonds them together, Ali’s hidden agenda seals an unimaginable fate.
Hope Coleson is having a doozy of a day.
Wrongly terminated from her menial waitressing job? Check
Abruptly evicted from her run down apartment with prime views of the graffiti painted dumpster? Double check.
Thoroughly bedded by a smoking hot man with smooth moves and zero communication skills? Triple X check.
And it doesn’t end there. Estranged family members are showing up like bad pennies, her precious savings account has been wiped clean, and she may or may not have a stalker.
So what’s a desperate girl to do, but try her hand at love?Retired Navy SEAL Beckett Smith doesn’t make mistakes.
Yes, he drinks his way to the bottom of a beer bottle or six, on one too many occasions.
Sure, he’s a well educated man who prefers to communicate at a level only slighter higher than your average poodle.
And yeah, he lost his legendary control and slept with his boss’s sister, stripping her of more than just her clothes before making a quick getaway.
Only it doesn’t end there. Isolation isn’t providing the peace he’s seeking, the boss he considers a friend is ready to hand him a beat down and a pink slip, and the girl he can’t stop thinking about is suddenly parked on his doorstep.
So what’s a jaded guy to do, but take a chance on love?
OMG Ash’s note is AMAZING!!! 🙂
Keep reading to see the full Love Note!
My lovely Liv,
I’m not good with words. I’m more of an action man, as you know. The little love bite marring the smooth skin on your neck is how I prefer to relay my feelings. That, and the biggest diamond I could buy while making a government spook’s salary. Waiting for you—fighting for us—for four long, lonely years. I’m happy as hell it didn’t take longer, but you should know… I would’ve waited forty.
Finesse isn’t my thing. If you wanted that, you should’ve married a guy like Sam. He’s having a custom perfume made for Ali for Valentine’s Day, for fuck’s sake. Christ, he’s smooth.
Instead, you married rough, and I thank a God I never used to believe in for that every single day. But back to the words.
I love you, Livvy. That’s the sum of it. And it sounds weak as shit, I know, but how can I possibly list all one million reasons why? I’m skilled in counterterrorism and unconventional warfare, not poetry and romance. Sure, I grill a mean dinner and fold the bath towels exactly how you want them. Yeah, I light a candle, run you a bubble bath, and make sure you’re up two orgasms to one by the end of the night, but that’s not what you write in a Valentine’s Day love note.
So, for you, my love, I’ll try.
I love your cooking, which hasn’t killed me yet.
I love your driving, which hasn’t killed me yet.
I love the way your lips move when you read the newspaper.
I love that you cry at Subaru commercials, no matter how many times you’ve seen them.
I love that you have a very specific ratio of ice to water when drinking ice water.
I love that you use this same unscientific ratio when drinking any iced beverage. It’s not anal at all.
I love that your skin smells like happy hour at a beach bar in Tahiti.
I love that you can peel an apple in one long, spiraling slice.
I love the way you touch me after a deployment. Insistent, but gentle. Like I’m fine glassware you covet but are afraid to use.
I love the way the hair at your temple curls into corkscrews when you sweat.
I love that sexy gasp you make the first time I slide completely inside you.
I love that you don’t need me to change a flat tire, but you do need me to kill a spider.
I love the way you snore. Yes, you snore. Yes, I love it. Deal with it.
I love the way your accent deepens when you’re mad. Or aroused.
I love when you laugh. It’s liquid sunshine injected straight into my veins.
I love that you once loved me. I love that you love me again. I promise to never take it for granted again.
There’s nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand other things. Little things. Details so infinite, I could never put them on paper. They’re just there, in you. Around you. Making me love you more than I thought possible.
And as I reluctantly peel myself away from your lush body and slip out of our bed, leaving you to sleep like an angel of the morning after playing a devil in red lingerie, I feel the need to add another item to my love note.
Reason one million and one. When I tell you I’m gonna come… and you suck harder.
I love you, Liv. All the way.
—Ash
My love for steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I came upon a dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our small town’s Ben Franklin store. Covers missing, each book was torn in two, split right down the center of the spline, though I found that to be no obstacle as I scanned the pages for any love or lust words—and curse words, too. It wasn’t long before I was scouring the public library and our local discount store, devouring anything labeled romance. I said a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom as Jackie Collins began ruling my world.
I live with my high school sweetheart turned husband and our three, beloved DVR’s, in the desert Southwest. Otherwise known as the surface of the sun during the summer.
My life long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually weigh what my driver’s license states I do. And I have been contemplating a hair color change for the last decade. I’m thinking red.
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