Make It a Double
Sugar on the Edge
With a Twist
Shaken Not Stirred
The Legal Affairs Series
Legal Affairs
Confessions of a Litigation God
Friction
Clash
Grind
Yield
Stand-Alone Titles
If I Return
Uncivilized
Love: Uncivilized
Sex, Lies and Rock & Roll
PHOTO: MARIE KILLEN
Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, SAWYER BENNETT has written more than thirty books and has been featured on both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists on multiple occasions. A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real-life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone. Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great workout, cake, or a combination of the two.
sawyerbennett.com
Facebook.com/?bennettbooks
@BennettBooks
Read on for an excerpt from
Sex in the Sticks
A Love Hurts Novel
by Sawyer Bennett
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Valentine
“What about this?” I ask as I take the navy chalk-stripe waistcoat and hold it up for Jeremy to consider. He examines it shrewdly for a moment, then plucks it from my hand so he can look at the price tag. He doesn’t even gulp, but then again, he doesn’t need to. He’s a French, and we Frenches are ridiculously wealthy.
“Not bad,” he says, and then proceeds to put it on over the gray shirt and tie he’d chosen. “You sure this will work for the rehearsal dinner?”
I walk over to the cream silk couch where some nameless, faceless sales associate laid out champagne and petit fours for us to nibble on while Jeremy shopped. The clothing is ridiculously expensive at Bergdorf Goodman, but their service is impeccable.
“It will totally work,” I assure him.
“I like it,” he proclaims as he smooths the vest down and tugs it a little past his lean hips. “So can we go now?”
“No, we can’t go now,” I tell him. “You need shoes. The rehearsal dinner is as important as the wedding. Well, at least that’s what my mom and your mom would say if they were standing here.”
Jeremy and I both shudder over the thought of enduring our mothers shopping with us for his wedding.
Jeremy’s wedding.
Totally not looking forward to it. He’s getting married to a woman I really don’t like all that much and it’s going to be a monstrous affair. All of Manhattan society will be there. It will be the same boring conversation while the women ogle each other’s designer dresses with jealousy and the men brag about how much their portfolios have increased. My mother will glare at me the entire time, because it’s a complete embarrassment that her daughter Valentine French writes a—gasp—sex and dating advice column, and the only way I’ll possibly get through it is by getting drunk.
“I’m thinking the brown boots we looked at on the way in,” he says casually, then his eyes cut to me through the mirror’s reflection to gauge my approval or lack thereof. Just like any good and well-bred New York metrosexual, Jeremy likes to shop and spend money, but he does have his limits.
“Those Ferragamos would look great,” I assure him with a smile, eying the little cakes spread out before me and knowing my hips will hate me if I eat one. “But those gray Tom Fords would be dynamite as well.”
“I thought Tom Ford was so last season,” Jeremy says in an exaggerated stereotypically gay voice as he starts to remove the waistcoat. Jeremy has no clue what’s in season or not. He only knows that he likes to look fashionable and he relies on his fiancée and me to tell him what to wear.
I try hard not to roll my eyes and instead take a large sip of champagne. I love Jeremy to death. He’s not my only cousin, but he’s my favorite family member out of all of them, and truly the only one who admires me for marching to the beat of my own drum. We’re only a year apart in age, went to the same college, and are really more like best friends than cousins.