The Divorce Attorney by Melanie Munton
Publication date: May 26th, 2020
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
What are you supposed to do when your insanely hot divorce attorney leans over after you've signed your divorce papers and seductively whispers in your ear, "Give me a call if you want to know how it feels to be handled by a real man you were clearly too much woman for him," before sliding his business card over and walking out the door?
I mean, what do you do with that?
Sure, I'm tempted. I just lost a hundred and eighty pounds of stupid, cheating man. I deserve to treat myself.
The thing is, I think he might be too much man for me.
After all, he's fifteen years my senior, though he doesn't look it.
But the urge to learn what this seasoned pro could teach me proves irresistible.
And as it turns out, he's a pro at a lot of things... like destroying people's lives.
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Excerpt
"I'm sorry, but whatever you think is going to happen here, it won't."
My God, what are you saying?! I thought we agreed to put an end to the stupidity streak!
Carter's mouth tightens. "Why not?"
I'm so bewildered, I almost can't come up with a good reason. "Look at me. Look at you. I'm dressed like a barmaid and working at a dive bar. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with me." I laugh mirthlessly. "I mean, Jesus. You saw it for yourself yesterday. My life is one big knot I've been trying to untangle for years. It's messy."
"Maybe I'm looking for messy."
"Why?"
He pauses. The hazel in his eyes deepens, darkens. The depth I saw in them yesterday is making itself known.
He's one intense layer after another. It takes quite a few years to acquire as many layers as I suspect he's made of.
"Because I've learned that an orderly existence can be a boring one," he eventually answers.
"You mean, you've learned that as a man of your age."
I almost recoil at my words but stand my ground. If we're going to lay our cards out on the table we're going to lay all of them out.
His upper lip curls. "And what do you think my age is, Sloane?"
Ay, caramba.
The way he says my name is a problem. It's far too... smooth and edgy at the same time. What's more is that his expression every time he says it might as well broadcast the words baby, if you burn at the sound of your name on my lips, just wait until you feel what my tongue can do.
Oh, God.
Just the thought of his tongue gliding along my bare skin almost sets me ablaze.
"Thirty-five," I say.
"I'm thirty-eight. Is that a problem for you?"
He's fifteen years older than me.
I should have a problem with that. I mean, that should be an issue. But why again?
Nothing.
Where's my bitchy conscious when I need her now? That ho.
Hedging the question, I ask, "Is it a problem for you that I've only been legal to work in a place like this for two years?"
He slowly shakes his head. "Surprisingly, not one damn bit."
Surprisingly? So, he's as thrown off by this energy between us as I am? Okay, that makes me feel a little better.
Even more surprising, despite the age difference, I haven't really felt a gap between us from the moment we met. For all the focus I've put on how out of my league he is, I've somehow felt on equal ground with him ever since we first locked eyes in his office. It's strange. Our back-and-forth has felt easy, comfortable even. He hasn't acted superior or looked down his nose at me. It's probably the first time I've ever really understood that whole "age is just a number" thing.
Because Carter's age hasn't prevented me from feeling a connection with him.
Hasn't snuffed out the flames I feel scalding my skin.
Hasn't dulled the arousal I feel pooling in my belly.
As I stare at his ruggedly handsome face, framed by the almost boyish cowlick in his hair, I feel my guard weaken a touch. "What can I get you to drink?"
Sensing my temporary capitulation, he relaxes his posture. "Elijah Craig if you've got it. Neat."
Of course, this man would order a not-fucking-around drink. Straight whiskey. No shortcut, no frills, no fuss. Just right to the hard stuff. Clearly, he's a man that can handle a little burn, a little bite. One who takes life as seriously as he does his liquor but can also kick back when the time calls for it.
Damn. That's attractive as hell.
My God, what are you saying?! I thought we agreed to put an end to the stupidity streak!
Carter's mouth tightens. "Why not?"
I'm so bewildered, I almost can't come up with a good reason. "Look at me. Look at you. I'm dressed like a barmaid and working at a dive bar. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with me." I laugh mirthlessly. "I mean, Jesus. You saw it for yourself yesterday. My life is one big knot I've been trying to untangle for years. It's messy."
"Maybe I'm looking for messy."
"Why?"
He pauses. The hazel in his eyes deepens, darkens. The depth I saw in them yesterday is making itself known.
He's one intense layer after another. It takes quite a few years to acquire as many layers as I suspect he's made of.
"Because I've learned that an orderly existence can be a boring one," he eventually answers.
"You mean, you've learned that as a man of your age."
I almost recoil at my words but stand my ground. If we're going to lay our cards out on the table we're going to lay all of them out.
His upper lip curls. "And what do you think my age is, Sloane?"
Ay, caramba.
The way he says my name is a problem. It's far too... smooth and edgy at the same time. What's more is that his expression every time he says it might as well broadcast the words baby, if you burn at the sound of your name on my lips, just wait until you feel what my tongue can do.
Oh, God.
Just the thought of his tongue gliding along my bare skin almost sets me ablaze.
"Thirty-five," I say.
"I'm thirty-eight. Is that a problem for you?"
He's fifteen years older than me.
I should have a problem with that. I mean, that should be an issue. But why again?
Nothing.
Where's my bitchy conscious when I need her now? That ho.
Hedging the question, I ask, "Is it a problem for you that I've only been legal to work in a place like this for two years?"
He slowly shakes his head. "Surprisingly, not one damn bit."
Surprisingly? So, he's as thrown off by this energy between us as I am? Okay, that makes me feel a little better.
Even more surprising, despite the age difference, I haven't really felt a gap between us from the moment we met. For all the focus I've put on how out of my league he is, I've somehow felt on equal ground with him ever since we first locked eyes in his office. It's strange. Our back-and-forth has felt easy, comfortable even. He hasn't acted superior or looked down his nose at me. It's probably the first time I've ever really understood that whole "age is just a number" thing.
Because Carter's age hasn't prevented me from feeling a connection with him.
Hasn't snuffed out the flames I feel scalding my skin.
Hasn't dulled the arousal I feel pooling in my belly.
As I stare at his ruggedly handsome face, framed by the almost boyish cowlick in his hair, I feel my guard weaken a touch. "What can I get you to drink?"
Sensing my temporary capitulation, he relaxes his posture. "Elijah Craig if you've got it. Neat."
Of course, this man would order a not-fucking-around drink. Straight whiskey. No shortcut, no frills, no fuss. Just right to the hard stuff. Clearly, he's a man that can handle a little burn, a little bite. One who takes life as seriously as he does his liquor but can also kick back when the time calls for it.
Damn. That's attractive as hell.
About the Author:
Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.
Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it's boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!
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