AG Meiers has a new MM contemporary romance out:
Promise Me.
And there’s a giveaway!
A fortune shouldn’t get you killed. a Promise shouldn’t break your heart.
Attorney Rafe Stanton knows making promises is a dangerous thing. Over and over he has failed to keep people under his protection safe. For years he watched his younger cousin Noah lose his battle with drugs and alcohol, which eventually led to a deadly car accident. When he finds out about Noah’s secret marriage to Logan Tate, Rafe has one last chance for redemption.
Inheriting a fortune should be a blessing, but for Logan life never works out that way. He’s learned the hard way that dreams don’t come true—and if they do, well, there is usually a hefty price tag attached. All he really wants is a quiet life, but that isn’t in the cards when his apartment gets broken into and a pretentious lawyer from Boston arrives thinking he can call the shots.
The two men don’t see eye-to-eye about the inheritance, but with Noah’s powerful family coming after Logan, they find themselves reluctantly on the same side. A gunman, greedy in-laws, and meddling friends are not enough trouble; soon they also need to deal with the explosive chemistry between them.
But Rafe made a promise to the past and Logan doesn’t trust easily, so a future together seems out of reach.
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Excerpt
Chapter 3
Rafe walked over the graveled driveway and took a narrow path along the side of the building. There was indeed a fourth door. Rafe knocked.
“Wow, that was fast, Ria. I just got your message.” A voice floated through a cracked window and then the door was pulled open. A young man was standing in the frame. Logan Tate. Rafe recognized him from the picture Kane had sent him earlier.
Whoever Ria was, Tate obviously found it appropriate to welcome her without a shirt. He was wearing nothing but some ripped jeans hanging low on his hips. Miles of golden skin over well-defined muscles. In fact, Tate had a six pack, with a swirl of soft brown hair disappearing into those jeans. Fuck. Rafe forced his eyes up. A square face, chiseled jaw. Tate’s hair was still wet, he had it tucked behind his ears with a few strands escaping and falling into his face. His eyes were already huge, but now they were wide open in surprise. For a second Rafe felt like he’d been transported into an American Eagle catalog shoot.
Before Rafe could get a word out, the door was slammed shut in his face. “All right, that went well,” he mumbled to himself. He stepped forward and knocked again. “Come on, Tate. Open the door.”
“I’ve got a lawyer, and I won’t talk to anybody without him present,” came the muffled reply through the door.
“I think there is a misunderstanding. I’m here—” Rafe’s cell started ringing. Annoyed, he pulled it out to silence it, when the door was ripped open again. Tate—still without a shirt—stared at him with his phone in his hand.
“You’re Rafe Stanton? Shit, I should have recognized you.” Tate turned and disappeared into the house. Rafe took the open door as an invitation to follow. The room he walked into was dominated by a huge bay window overlooking the ocean and the rocky beach. It was filled with honey-colored pine wood furniture, which was typical for beach homes, but none of the usual lighthouse or seashell knick-knacks. Midday sun flooded every corner with light and warmth.
Tate pulled a shirt out of a laundry basket on the floor and quickly put it on. When he stretched up his arms, his pants dropped even lower and Rafe’s eyes roamed over his Vee peeking out over his waistband. A bolt of lust hit him. Logan Tate was sinfully gorgeous. It’d been a long time that a man’s beauty had such an immediate impact on Rafe.
Still pulling his shirt down, Tate said, “Yeah, I should have recognized you. Noah showed me pictures. He talked about you all the time. Man, he loved you like a brother.”
“Excuse me,” Rafe replied tersely. He wanted to add: How dare you talk about him? You used him like everybody else.
“Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that? I pissed you off. I’m sorry.” Tate tugged on the bottom of his shirt and then waved to his small kitchen. “Coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
Wrestling with his emotions, Rafe nodded, “Yes, thank you. And maybe we can start with formal introduction. My name is Rafe Stanton and I’m with Parker Law. I’m Noah’s cousin, and I’m also the executor of his last will and testament.”
Tate nodded and then walked over to the small, open kitchen and took two cups out of a glass cabinet and put them on the counter. “Milk? Sugar? I’m sorry I’ve no cream.”
“No, thank you. Black.”
“Of course,” Tate mumbled as he poured a cup and handed it over. Rafe only now noticed the dark purple bruise in his face and wondered what that was all about. “I’m Logan Tate. Please call me Logan. I’m—I’m Noah’s husband, but then you know that already.”
Yeah, Rafe knew, but he also hadn’t missed the slight hesitation, so he said, “I’d still like to see some ID. It’s just a formality, but maybe we can get it out of the way.”
“Sure.” Tate walked over to the small kitchen table tucked into a corner. He picked up his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license.
Rafe took a quick look, even though he’d seen a copy already. He could see one of his business cards lying on the table as well. His personal cell phone number was added in the middle. “Noah asked you to call me?”
“Yeah, he said to call you as soon as any lawyers from his family showed up. He said you would help me.”
Damn, Noah, how about a heads-up? Rafe took a sip, hummed in surprise and then took another. “Wow, this is good coffee.”
Tate smiled. And for a split second Rafe felt like he was looking at the most beautiful human being he’d ever met. Brown eyes—Logan had deep, dark brown eyes. It was a deadly combination with his honey blond hair. Rafe had a thing for blonds. Kane gave him crap about it all the time. Unconsciously bias.
“It’s from a small coffee shop in town. They roast and blend their own. Glad you like it.”
“Mr. Tate, Logan, can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course, do you want to sit down?”
“Sure.” They settled down on the kitchen table. Rafe took another sip of his coffee and watched Logan fiddle with his cup. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hands onto his lap and gave Rafe a nervous smile. “So, what now?”
“How long have you been living here? It’s a nice place.”
Rafe could almost see the mental eye roll at his attempt at small talk, but Logan decided to appease him. “I moved here a little less than a year ago. Noah and I, we used to travel a lot, but then we started to look for something closer to his family in Boston.”
“Have you met his family?”
Logan blushed and lowered his gaze. “No, no, I haven’t. We kept our marriage quiet—”
“Why was that?”
“Fuck, what is this?” Logan pushed his chair back and stood up. “You know I’ve never met his family. They’d have taken one look at me and crushed both of us. Noah was scared shitless of his mother, that’s why he kept our marriage a secret. Why are you asking these stupid questions?” He walked to the bay window and looked out.
“Okay, then let’s jump right in, what do you know about Noah’s will?”
Author Bio
When she has some free time, her favorite thing to do is travel and visit new places. Her past trips have already brought her to a variety of countries on four continents. She never passes up an opportunity to experience different cultures, diverse people, and amazing locations.
Even though she has been dreaming up stories all her life, she has only recently started to write them down and share them with the world. As a writer, she loves to to put her characters through a lot of challenges, conflict, and heartbreak before she allows them to find their happy-ever-after.
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