Welcome to the blog tour for THE BARS BETWEEN US, a stand-alone adult contemporary romance, by A.S. Teague. See below for information on the book, buy links, an exclusive excerpt, and details on her giveaway.
I don’t have a damn thing in common with the beautiful rich girl who walks in to my bar. She’s southern class, fancy cars, and designer shoes.
I’ve got a drunk for a mother, a cheater for a father, and a reputation for trouble I’ve more than earned.
I look the other way, pretending I don’t notice how perfect she is. She wouldn’t give me the time of day anyway. Until she shatters that first impression and shows me she’s so much more––everything I never thought I deserved.
After a lifetime of being a disappointment, I want to prove to her that I’m better than my past.
We have one tragic thing in common, and the thread that binds us together will tear us apart as it unravels.
Are we strong enough to break through the Bars Between Us?
I was pissed.
I’d spent the entire day looking forward to seeing her, and then she’d just blown me off. No call, no text, nothing.
So when she’d texted that she was outside the bar at three a.m., I‘d fought the urge to tell her to take a hike.
I didn’t need to spend my entire day waiting on a phone call.
I didn’t need to hear her voice.
I didn’t need to see her face, hear her laugh, smell her hair.
At least, that was what I was telling myself.
But, it was all lies.
Even after she’d shown up and apologized, I’d continued to tell myself that I didn’t need her, that she didn’t have any effect on me. I’d tried to be cold and distant, not letting her know just how fucking pathetic I’d been tonight. But she wouldn’t stop pushing, apologizing, asking me what was wrong. And the words had flown out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Here I was, pining over a woman, worrying that something had happened to her, or worse, that she had finally decided to cut her losses and move on, like the smart woman I knew she was.
In the matter of mere weeks, I’d gone from the consummate bachelor, destined to be married to my work, to being so wrapped up in a woman that it was a wonder that I could breathe without her.
Though the funny thing was, now, with her nestled beside me in my bed telling me about the not so pleasant parts of her life, I didn’t want to breathe without her.
Not even in the slightest.
I was invested. It wasn’t even that I wanted to know more about her—I needed it. Deep inside me, I needed to see the ugly parts of her so that I could show her the ugly parts of me. The parts I tried so desperately to keep hidden. The parts that she somehow made acceptable with nothing more than a simple grin and gentle touch. I couldn’t explain it, this deep-rooted need to connect with her, but it was there all the same.
Her body is small against mine, fitting into the curve of my arm as though she’d been made to be there.
And hell…here I am staring down at her, wondering if she had been.
Her soft hand rests over my racing heart and her silky hair smells of flowers as it tickles my chin.
Maybe it was the beers I’d slammed back in a worthless fit of anger earlier, but whatever the reason, I’d spilled the beans about my dad, and then revealed to the only woman I ever wanted to keep the horrible things my piece of shit mother had said.
She should have looked at me with disgust.
She should have run.
She should have never looked back.
But Grace, being well, Grace, her beautiful face above mine, her eyes full of sadness, she stared down at me with respect and admiration blazing in her eyes.
There was no pity, and for that I was thankful. No, what I saw in her eyes was understanding, a commonality that somehow bonded us, two people from different sides of the tracks. And that thread of likeness only caused the lust to surge through my veins thicker and faster than ever before.
I study her face, asking for something that it’s probably too soon to hope for. But, through her sadness, there’s also desire.
She wants me, too.
About the Author
A.S. Teague enjoys the warmth of South Carolina with her husband and two daughters. The stereotypes about peach cobbler and sweet tea are not overstated. After years in the medical field, she is now enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home mom. She loves wine, the beach, wine on the beach, and crying at Disney movies. When she doesn’t have a book in her hand, she can be found pestering her husband with pictures of animals she wants to rescue, as well as debating whether to exercise or take a nap.
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