Tessa Bailey’s much-anticipated Line of Duty novel ASKING FOR TROUBLE releases on Monday, but we can’t wait for you to meet Brent and Hayden. We’ll release a few pages every day this week, and one lucky commentor each day will win an ARC! We love you that much. Enjoy the excerpts, and don’t forget to comment with your name and email address for a chance to win!
Brent saluted her with his beer bottle. “What are you thinking about over there, duchess? Whatever it is looks mighty interesting.”
Her smile almost cracked upon hearing the infuriating nickname he refused to drop. “If I thought you had even a remote chance of keeping up, I’d tell you.”
“That so?” He leaned forward on his elbows, not stopping to acknowledge Matt’s irritated sigh. “Let’s see if I can guess.”
“Please do.” She took a dainty sip of her white wine. “Knock me over with your sparkling intellect.”
He stroked his chin. “There’s only so many things it could be. Planning your next fancy cocktail party, trying to remember if you made that crucial hair appointment—”
Daniel elbowed Brent in the ribs, giving them both a stern look. “Could you two give it a rest for one night? I’ve got enough on my mind.”
“Like what?” she and Brent asked at the same time, before exchanging a glare.
Daniel opened his mouth to explain, then shook his head, shooting another anxious glance at the entrance to Quincy’s. “Nothing.”
“Aw, I know what it is.” Brent clapped a hand onto Daniel’s shoulder. “You’re worried how Story’s first day at the new job went. You’re afraid she hated it and is going to vamoose back to California.”
“No shit,” Matt muttered.
“I should have met her at the damn school and walked her here.” Daniel ran impatient fingers through his hair, the cool facade he always kept in place beginning to slip. “She has a terrible sense of direction.”
“Do you want me to call her?” Hayden offered.
Brent shook his head before Daniel could respond. “Nah, just let her quit that horrible job in peace. Then we’ll all go help her pack so she can leave your pretty-boy ass.”
Hayden sent him a withering look, already formulating what she’d say to him when they were alone. Over the last two months, she’d become acquainted with the ball-breaking dynamic between the guys, but when it came to her best friend, Daniel had always been particularly vulnerable. When he and Story met over the summer, Story had only been planning on staying in New York for a couple weeks before returning to her home in California. Now that their relationship had progressed, she had no intention of going back, but Daniel still spent every free moment making sure she never regretted her decision to quit the teaching job she loved and move three thousand miles to be with him.
She tried once more to comfort Daniel. “You know Story. She probably stopped to pet every puppy between here and the school. She’s easily distracted.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair, eyelids drooping a little, transforming before her eyes into the playboy he resembled. “Don’t I know it?”
Satisfied that she’d taken his mind off the possibility her best friend hated her new job, Hayden took another sip of wine and continued to ignore Brent’s unwavering gaze. She hated it when he did this. Fixated on her and refused to look away. He looked like a hungry wolf stalking a lamb. As though he also couldn’t wait for the opportunity to tell her once again how pampered and pointless he found her posh, Upper West Side lifestyle.
Daniel, all restless energy once again, hopped up from the table. “You guys want another drink? I’m buying.”
“I’ll come with you,” Matt said, shooting a knowing look between Brent and Hayden.
The second Daniel and Matt moved out of earshot toward the bar, Hayden’s glass clunked down on the table. “Could you try just a pinch harder to be less of a spectacular asshole? He’s worried enough. You don’t need to make it worse with your douche-bag sorcery.”
“I’m making it worse? Why don’t you sew his name into his underwear and send him off to summer camp?” He tilted his head. “Not all of us had nannies growing up. Some of us can take care of ourselves.”
She felt her neck flush as the barb struck home, but she refused to let her reaction show on her face. It would be a cold day in hell before she let him know how much being summed up as a helpless socialite bothered her. “There’s a time and a place for insults. Learn the difference, dickhead.”
Brent leaned across the table, his jaw tight. “I don’t need lessons on how to talk to my friend.”
“Disagree. I think you need lessons on quite a few things.”
If she’d blinked, she would have missed the telltale tic in his cheek, a sign she’d come to recognize as his temper stirring. Brent might be lacking in polite social skills and empathy, but he made up for it in pride. “Yeah? And who’s going to teach me those lessons? You?”
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iTunes | Kobo