Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar
Model: Victorio Piva
Release Date: June 26, 2018
the one thing holding him together. Until she was gone.
there was whiskey.
his head. The moment he lost the woman he loved when a single blink cascaded
into a series of events that stole both of their lives. Now his nights are
spent playing music in southern honky-tonks and nursing the memory of her the
only way he knows how–at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
couldn’t bring him closer to God, but when the ghost of Augusta Belle Branson
appears in his corner of another lonely dive bar late after dark, he’s forced
to confront everything he thought he knew about that fateful night, and a few
things he didn’t.
contradiction, she’s his salvation.
lost years, every moment more revealing, more unpredictable, more intoxicating
than the next until the only reckoning left for Fallon is the one he must make
with himself. But this time, fate may have left an after-burn too bitter to
swallow. This time, he may lose his whiskey girl for good.
souls who, against all odds, find themselves through their passion and music.
Filled with raw emotion, this lyrical, all-the-feels masterpiece may catapult
Adriane Leigh into the league of Colleen Hoover, Brittainy Cherry, and L.J.
Shen. — Nelle L’Amour, New York Times Bestselling author of THAT MAN
jumpin’ off the bridge in the center—where the water was deep and the current
stronger, would be a swifter end–or if jumping near the edge, where jagged
limestone labs anchored the slow moving current awaited her.
opened through the orange oak leaves, a halo of warmth enveloping her.
ploppin’ her in my path.
amber eyes breathing something real and alive, like fire, into my soul.
dependin’ on how you looked at it, just about everyday since.
center stage, my thoughts drawing back to the present. My head swam, but the
old familiar chords drove on through the current of whiskey in my blood,
strumming the first few notes of a song I wrote a lot of nights ago by the
sheer act of muscle memory.
fingers in position on the strings, the opening chords of Whiskey Girl bled
from my fingers.
I’d written Whiskey Girl in a fevered rush.
think my best shit came out of uninhibited states.
when I ended with the final, emotion-charged words.
career, the first single to hit radio waves and then the top spot on the
Billboard charts brought reporters, music executives, long last family members
that I wasn’t even really sure I was related to, and too much other scum with
an end game that carried dollar signs to my front doorstep.
later, middle finger in the air as I tossed my once promising music career out
with last night’s liquor bottles in favor of the open road.
could have made.
pushing my guitar over one shoulder and bowing deeply. I couldn’t see a single
face behind the glaring stage lights, but still, some part of me pretended she
could be out there, that I was singing to her.
Tennessee whiskey to bother counting, I still felt the pull inside me to travel
every town in America if that’s what it took to find her.
and a fucking minivan by now.
dark beyond, then left the stage, taking the steps two at a time and angling
past the curtains to head for the tiny-ass dressing room this dive bar provided
for another chug of amber gold, before packing my shit into my truck and
hitting the road.
would be in order before I bailed when a curvy little thing backed right up
in a cascade over one side. The heady scent of peaches and honey filled my
nostrils, my eyes slammed closed and brought me back to summer nights under a
giant oak, fireflies melting together with the stars above like a painting.
spun, brilliant smile falling off her face when our eyes made contact for the
pallet of bricks.
unfamiliar angles of her porcelain face.
her always-devastating round eyes and full lips. It was her alright. I’d know
this woman anywhere.
better part of a decade and still, my heart wasn’t prepared for those two
words. My name on her lips left me with a toxic reaction.
touch still haunting my fingertips, and walked straight down the narrow
hallway, pushing the rusted back door open so hard the hinges protested.
feeling that seeing her again had left.
growl than I intended. Before she could reply I stomped across the potholed
parking lot, aimed for my heavy-duty Ford.
fresh bottle of my favorite recipe.
left in my dressing room, I had to get as far the fuck away from her just to
clear my head and process what her being here even meant.
flash, chugging back the first warm bite of pleasure I’d been craving.
pocket, about to climb into the cab and make hay when fingertips painted a dark
navy filtered into my vision and back out again, my goddamn truck keys hanging
from one finger.
were, how much of that bottle had I drank before the show? I shook the thought
from my head, realizing this was probably about close to my average state of
play on any given day. Runnin’ away from the life Augusta Belle and I’d had
took something out of me. Something only whiskey could fill.
but you’re not dying on mine, Fallon Gentry.”
pretty pink lips, my body’s old dependable reaction to her infuriating every
cell of me.
have been surprised that it was no different now.
one more time and missing, before I stumbled off around her, whiskey bottle
clutched in my hand and hell on my mind.
state of Tennessee to help me deal.
Raised in a snowbank in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, she was born with a book in
her hand and won her first Young Authors award before the age of ten. She
finished her first romance novel at 14, and hasn’t stopped playing with
words since. She earned a literature degree, co-founded and organized
international book conventions with RARE: Romance Author & Reader
Events, and has written more than 45 independent titles under various pen
Married to her own Prince Charming, she now lives among the sand dunes of
Lake Michigan, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She’s a
romantic rebel and word junkie that believes wanderlust is life, is
part of the #goodvibetribe, and wishes she had more time to read and knit
scarves to keep her cozy during the arctic Michigan winters. Yoga pants,
puppies, and mac and cheese also help. Never miss a release! Get an alert
for Adriane’s work:
chemistry, a glamorous world, plot twists…a perfect combination held together
with Adriane Leigh’s addictive writing. I dove into this world, and didn’t want
to come up for air. I can’t wait for more!” –
Leigh never dissapoints with equal amounts of heat and heart with all the sex,
suspense and scandal…Leigh’s newest mysterious hero will have you anxiously
flipping pages well into the night trying to uncover his secrets.” –
Crownover, Marked Men