by Alley Ciz
“I really hope you don’t coddle her like the rest of these men do once the two of you are married,” Natalie says casually to Duke. My brain screeches to a stop like a record being cut off mid-song.
What did she just say?
She didn’t say what I think she said…
Did she?
DID. SHE?
I freeze. Samantha’s body seizes beneath my touch, and there’s a rattle, a strain when she inhales sharply with a hitch to her breathing.
“Sweetheart.” There’s a slight reprimand to Mitchell’s tone as he clears his throat. “That’s not how we planned on bringing up the topic.”
Natalie transforms right in front of me. Her eyes go oh-no-I-didn’t-mean-to-spill-the-beans wide, one hand rising to cover her mouth with the tips of her fingers while the other grips Mitchell’s arm. “Oh my goodness.” She spins, searching out the Delacourtes with please-forgive-me eyes. “It just slipped out.”
“It’s kind of exciting, though. I get it.” Mrs. Delacourte agrees with a hand resting over her heart, those hearts beaming proudly in her gaze.
“It is.” I don’t believe the sweet, loving smile Natalie sends her for a second. “Again though, I do apologize.”
The sweet moment between the two matriarchs is broken up by Samantha. “Wha-what the fuck did you just say, Natalie?” The disbelief in her tone when she voices her question matches my own. We have to be hearing things. But…both of us? Is that possible?
“Language, Samantha.” Her gaze bounces nervously to the Delacourtes.
“Cut the shit, Natalie.” Samantha passes off her glass then shakes out her hands, flicking them as if they’re wet. This is also the second time she’s called her mother by her first name, and the disapproving pout it receives and the absence of correction gives me the impression this isn’t the first time she’s done so.
“I’m not going to stand for your insolence, young lady.”
“Insolence?” The last syllable breaks off on the end as Samantha gasps for a breath. The smack of her hand hitting her chest rings out loudly in the otherwise silent room. “Repeat.” A sucked breath. “What. You. Said.”
Again, Natalie checks with the Delacourtes. Duke’s father watches the scene with a calculating intensity, and where I would think his mother would be looking anywhere else given her general avoidance of uncomfortable situations—not necessarily the best trait for a politician’s spouse—she’s beaming at Duke with maternal pride.
“I was only trying to advise the young Mr. Delacourte that he’ll want to keep a firm constitution when it comes to your marriage.” Down at her side, Natalie flexes her left hand, admiring the way the light reflects off the giant rock on her fourth finger. “If he continues to spoil you the way your brother and his friends do—”
She cuts a glare to Chuck, and my mind spins over the fact that Samantha has a brother I didn’t know about. Is he older? Younger? I want to assume he’s older since Natalie insinuated he spoils her, but where is he? Maybe he’s in college and his school is out of state? Questions continue to fly at me, but I shove them aside so I don’t miss a thing about this current madness.
“—it’ll make for a lopsided union. It’s one thing dealing with it in a child, but in a spouse…” She tsks. “That’s one of the quickest ways for a marriage to fail.”
There’s that M word again. She’s most definitely saying marriage. Why the hell is she bringing up things like marriage and spouses to her teenage daughter?
“Wh-why are you of all people offering up marriage advice?” Samantha slashes a hand through the air.
Again Samantha starts to shake out her hand, intermittently bring the tips of her four fingers to her thumb like she’s pretending to have claws before repeating the pattern. Is this her asthma flaring up?
“No.” Shake. “Wait.” Claw hands. “Back up.” A thump to her chest. “Why is my name”—cough—“coming up when”—wheeze—“marriage is the topic?”
Natalie expels yet another of those heavy sighs. “We’re really going to have to work on your listening skills, Samantha.” Her head falls forward then she shares a conspiratorial look with Mom and Mrs. Delacourte. “Teenagers.”
I slide my foot across the floor until the front of my leg is pressed to the back of Samantha’s.
“Mom?” Even Duke sounds unsure as he speaks up for the first time.
“Duke…sweetheart.” She reaches out a hand for his. She glances at her husband, waiting for his nod before continuing. “Your father has decided to make a run for the White House when the election rolls around in a few years.”
Duke nods, and I find myself bobbing my head along with his. This isn’t earth-shattering information. Governor Delacourte has been a favorite of his party for years, and one of the reasons he hired my dad to take over as his campaign strategist was to help facilitate this goal. It would be more shocking if he wasn’t planning on making a bid for the presidency, and Duke says as much.
“What I don’t get is what’s with all the marriage talk?”
Natalie cuts in before Mrs. Delacourte can answer. “After much discussion, we’ve decided it will be mutually beneficial to all parties involved for you to marry my daughter.”
Okay, okay I totally hear your shouty capitals before you even type them. I’m sure you’re like WTF ALLEY!!! I need to know what happens.
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Randomness For My Readers
Whoops, I went and gave you guys another cliff. But before you go and yell at me at least book 2 is done and will be out in June and you can PREORDER HERE!
This book wasn’t supposed to be my next release, but now that you’ve met Savvy King, I bet you can understand how she forced her way to the front. Damn that Tessa Taylor for encouraging her lol.
I was a little nervous, and by a little, I mean SOOO much, to write these books. I love me some bully romances, but Savvy was such a badass she certainly made trying to dive into writing one a hell of a challenge.
But of course, I had to have my favorite coffee shop from my BTU Alumni series make an appearance.
So now for a little bullet style fun facts:
I have a major girl crush on Savvy King.
Tessa Taylor might be the most ridiculous character I have ever written…and that’s with both Lyle and Duke being side characters of mine lol.
I watched so many YouTube videos about Ferrari F8s I need to make millions so I can have one lol.
I know a bunch of people were probably freaked out about Merlin, but boas really are sweet snakes.
Joey and Kennedy my cover models are a couple in real life.
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Lots of Love,
Alley
Acknowledgments
This is where I get to say thank you, hopefully I don’t miss anyone. If I do I’m sorry and I still love you and blame mommy brain.
I’ll start with the Hubs—who I can already hear giving me crap again that this book also isn’t dedicated to him he’s still the real MVP—he has to deal wi
th my lack of sleep, putting off laundry *because… laundry* and helping to hold the fort down with our three crazy mini royals. You truly are my best friend. Also, I’m sure he would want me to make sure I say thanks for all the hero inspiration, but it is true (even if he has no ink *winking emoji*)
To Jenny my PA, the other half of my brain, the bestest best friend a girl could ask for. Why the hell do you live across the pond? I live for every shouty capital message you send me while you read my words 97398479 times.
To my group chats that give me life and help keep me sane: The OG Coven, The MINS, The Tacos, The Book Coven, and Procrastinors & Butt Stuff (hehe—still laugh at this name like a 13 year old boy).
To all my author besties that were okay with me forcing my friendship on them and now are some of my favorite people to talk to on the inter webs.
There needs to be an extra shout out to Laura and Julia, for without them I wouldn’t have finished this book. Laura you’ve been stuck as my cross-country bestie for years but thanks for bringing Julia into my crazy!
For my beta readers and their shouty caps as I played around with the cliff and story.
To Maggie for being my asthma sensitivity reader and letting me ask her question after question as my inside source for Savvy and never thinking it was weird when I’d text her with “Question” at 2 a.m.
To Sarah and Claudia the most amazing graphics people ever in existence. Yeah I said it lol.
“To Jules my cover designer, for going above and beyond, then once more with designing these covers. I can’t even handle the epicness of them.
To Jess my editor, who is always pushing me to make the story better and giving such evil inspiration that leads to shouty capitals from readers.
To Caitlin my other editor who helps clean up the mess I send her while at the same time totally getting my crazy.
To Gemma for going from my proofreader to fangirl and being so invested in my characters’ stories to threaten my life *lovingly of course*.
To Dawn and Ellie for giving my books their final spit shine.
To my street team for being the best pimps ever. Seriously, you guys rock my socks.
To my ARC team for giving my books some early love and getting the word out there.
To Amanda and Wildfire PR for taking on my crazy and helping me spread the word of my books and helping to take me to the next level.
To Wander and his team for being beyond amazing to work with and this custom shoot for Savvy and Jasper’s books. And Joey and Kennedy for being the perfect models! Seriously I think the world can hear my fangirl squee whenever I get to message with you both on IG and I love that you guys are a real life couple!
To every blogger and bookstagrammer that takes a chance and reads my words and writes about them.
To my fellow Covenettes for making my reader group one of my happy places. Whenever you guys post things that you know belong there I squeal a little.
And, of course, to you my fabulous reader, for picking up my book and giving me a chance. Without you I wouldn’t be able to live my dream of bringing to life the stories the voices in my head tell me.
Lots of Love,
Alley
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Sneak Peek of Writing Dirty (BTU5)
MADDEY- CHAPTER 1
“Don’t you dare think of stepping one foot inside this house in gray sweatpants, Ryan Donnelly.” I point an aggressive finger toward the glass sliders leading to the back deck, all while not looking up from the computer screen in front of me.
“Don’t be like that, Madz.” Ryan pouts when I finally look. It’s not a look a twenty-seven-year-old man should be able to pull off, but with his Chris Evans good looks, he totally does.
Not for the first time—perhaps for the millionth, for that matter—I curse my stupid heart for not being able to get its shit together and accept his proposal. Nooo, it had to stubbornly, stupidly insist on not being able to figure out how to love.
Well, that’s not true. I love my family, my friends—Ryan included—and my dog, but I haven’t figured out what it actually means to be in love.
Sure, the voices in my head can tell me how they feel. My characters pretty much craft all sorts of shouty-capitals-worthy happily-ever-afters in my books themselves.
I’m constantly having to tell them to stay in their lane when it comes to whose story it is, but when I try to phone a friend with them, they’re all, New phone, who dis?
“Don’t even try it, mister.” I wave my finger side to side, still not fully looking up. “You do and I’ll sic my attack dog on you.”
Warmth leaves my lap as Trident, my yellow lab, lifts his head, knowing I’m talking about him. He may be able to teach a master class on being a well-behaved canine and can scare off any would-be attackers (aka the mailman and such) with his bark, but he’s a big ball of mush for Ryan and my other friends.
He lazily lumbers to his feet and heads straight for Ryan, only further proving the point.
The NHL golden boy bends down to love up on my fur child while actually following my orders and staying in the open doorway, the breeze from the ocean bringing in the comforting scent of salt and sea.
“Who’s a good boy?” Ryan wraps both hands around Trident’s ears, scratching behind them. “You are, aren’t you, Tri? Yup, I know you are. You’re keeping your mommy company while she ignores her real friends for the ones in her head, huh?”
My “attack dog” has a hind leg scratching in the air and is melting into an almost-hundred-pound puddle right there on the floor. Granted, I’m not super far behind as I watch the display. Why did I have to look up?
No, Madz. The question you should be asking yourself is why aren’t you with this sweet, sweet man?
Jiminy can be a real son of a bitch.
Really…is it my fault I can’t get my heart to fall in line?
“Can you please stop telling my dog lies? I’m not ignoring you guys. It’s only six in the morning—almost everyone is still sleeping.”
Over the head of my blissed-out dog, blue eyes a few shades darker than my own find me. “Yes, but if you’re up at six AM, it means you’ve been up all night and will end up ignoring us to sleep.”
Is it wrong that I kinda wanna hit him for being right?
“Semantics.”
The sound of joints popping as Ryan rises to stand fills the silence before he finally braves going against my orders and walks into the house. He lifts my feet from the chair they’re resting on, settling into the seat with them in his lap.
“What are you doing up this early anyway?” I ask, reaching down to pet Trident as he retakes his spot at my side.
“I came to pick up my running partner before I set off.”
My gaze automatically falls to watch the way the muscles in his arm pop and flex as he stretches to run a hand down Trident’s back. My dog lets out a sigh, and I can’t blame him. I have firsthand knowledge of how good it feels to have that particular body part do the same to me.
Stop that right now, Madz. You do not get to think those things anymore. You and Ryan are only friends now.
God, I need sleep. It’s only when I’m overtired like this that I beat myself up over what at times I think are my bad life decisions. I really am fucked in the head.
“You do realize it’s the offseason, right?”
There are days I question if the word offseason is even in his vocabulary with the way he trains year-round. His work ethic rivals that of my brothers, and their lives depend on their physical fitness.
Hmm…
I saw Justin just last week and he’ll be down the shore again this weekend, but when was the last time I spoke to Tyler or Connor?
Tyler is stateside right now, but it’s been a few days since he responded to the family group chat. I’ll bug him later.
Connor’s team is currently deployed, so his additions to the chat are few and far between. I shoot off a quick email—since that is sometimes more reliable—asking when we can video-chat again. Hopefully the conversation will end on a better note than the last one.
A girl gets herself an overzealous fan and everyone is all up in arms about it.
I swear I’m too old to still be dealing with big brother overprotectiveness.
They have a point, Madz.
Oh, leave her alone, Jiminy.
Yeah—the Die Hard Trilogy needs to take a chill pill.
The metal of Trident’s collar tags jingles when he tilts his head at my growl.
Bed.
I need bed.
“We’re not gonna bring the Cup back to Jersey without putting in the work,” Ryan says, answering my earlier question.