Release Blitz: Crave by Adriana Locke
Crave
(Gibson Boys #3)
by Adriana Locke
Release Date: October 1, 2018
About Crave
Hadley Jacobs is over Machlan Gibson.
Sure, she’ll always be a little weak to the dimple in his right cheek and the way his five o’clock shadow makes him ruggedly handsome. But that’s not enough to cover every other thing about him because they all drive her nuts. Like how he’s won’t admit he’s wrong even when he knows it and how he drives his stupid car a million miles an hour on wet asphalt. As she rolls back into town and takes a seat at Crave, she won’t take the bait. She’s over him. Mostly.
Machlan isn’t over her.
It’s not because he hasn’t tried. He reminds himself over and over that she’s not the girl for him. After all, she drives him insane with her sassy attitude and the way she calls him out on everything. She beats him at poker, even though she doesn’t know the difference between a straight and a flush, and when she looks at him with her bright, blue eyes, it’s unnerving. When she climbs onto that bar stool and orders a drink, he puts it in front of her and ignores the sparkle in her eyes. He’s not over her, but she won’t know that.
But she does know that. And he knows she’s not as over him as she’s pretending to be. When life forces their hand this time, there’s more on the line than a pile of poker chips. It’s their forever.
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An Excerpt from Crave
“Oh my God.” A rush of wind escapes my lungs as the evening air ushers me away from the bar. I’m intoxicated, and I didn’t even drink. That good-looking bastard does this to me every time.
I bend down to tie my shoe. My fingers fumble with the laces, a hold-over from the adrenaline that’s starting to taper off. With each second that passes, I feel a little better about my first interaction with Mach.
There was no real fighting. No bloodshed. No tears.
No sex.
“No,” I groan as I stand. “I’m not going there. That is not a part of the plan.”
“So there was a plan?” Machlan stands, hands tucked in his front pockets, forearms flexing a few feet in front of me. It’s a casual posture that any bystander would read as a guy having an easygoing conversation with a woman. That person would be wrong.
The way his deep brown eyes are almost black and the way the little lines form between them tell me all I need to know. There’s nothing casual about this.
My heart skips a beat as the scent of him rides the breeze and tortures me. It wasn’t as noticeable in the bar. Out here, he’s picking me apart without even trying, using his stupid cologne to unlock me like a puzzle.
His body this close to me is the equivalent of drinking three glasses of wine. I’m hot. Bothered. And the struggle to remember I have a brain and am responsible for my behavior is a real thing.
“Why did you follow me?” My words are smooth, void of emotion, and for that, I’m glad. I don’t know which emotion would come through if any were attached. I want to tease him, fall into the banter we do so well, but that’s not going to help the point of this visit. That’s not going to help me become less attached.
“It’s okay for you to pop in Crave, but it’s weird for me to follow-up?”
“There’s nothing to follow-up.”
“I beg to differ.” He starts to smile but catches it before it really breaks. “Why are you here, Had?”
“I’m not. I’m leaving.”
“Will you stop fucking with me?”
“I’m not fucking with you.” I move deliberately in hopes it exudes a confidence I don’t own. He stands between me and the handle. “Will you move, please?”
“No.”
“You know what?” I say, wedging myself against him and the door. “You’re making this easier than I thought it would be.” Gripping the handle, I lift. It opens, but there’s not enough room to pull it wide because he. Won’t. Move.
I don’t look at him. I’m way too close for a move that dangerous. Instead, I tug again. The metal edge digs into his side, burying itself in the fabric of his black T-shirt, but it’s not enough to make him step away.
“What is it you’re trying to do?” he asks.
“Right now, it’s open a door.”
His chest bounces around with a deep chuckle. “Fine.” He makes an exaggerated step to the side. It’s just enough room for me to pull open the door. “I’m telling you—if I hear you met up with that asshole—”
“Oh, no,” I say, turning around. “Don’t start your shit with me.”
“It’s not shit, sweetheart.”
Despite knowing the term of endearment wasn’t used with any endearing wishes, my heart flutters. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep focus.
“And I didn’t start it,” he continues. “You’re the one who came into Crave. I didn’t come looking for you.”
“I didn’t come looking for you either.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it.
About Adriana Locke
“Oh my God.” A rush of wind escapes my lungs as the evening air ushers me away from the bar. I’m intoxicated, and I didn’t even drink. That good-looking bastard does this to me every time.
I bend down to tie my shoe. My fingers fumble with the laces, a hold-over from the adrenaline that’s starting to taper off. With each second that passes, I feel a little better about my first interaction with Mach.
There was no real fighting. No bloodshed. No tears.
No sex.
“No,” I groan as I stand. “I’m not going there. That is not a part of the plan.”
“So there was a plan?” Machlan stands, hands tucked in his front pockets, forearms flexing a few feet in front of me. It’s a casual posture that any bystander would read as a guy having an easygoing conversation with a woman. That person would be wrong.
The way his deep brown eyes are almost black and the way the little lines form between them tell me all I need to know. There’s nothing casual about this.
My heart skips a beat as the scent of him rides the breeze and tortures me. It wasn’t as noticeable in the bar. Out here, he’s picking me apart without even trying, using his stupid cologne to unlock me like a puzzle.
His body this close to me is the equivalent of drinking three glasses of wine. I’m hot. Bothered. And the struggle to remember I have a brain and am responsible for my behavior is a real thing.
“Why did you follow me?” My words are smooth, void of emotion, and for that, I’m glad. I don’t know which emotion would come through if any were attached. I want to tease him, fall into the banter we do so well, but that’s not going to help the point of this visit. That’s not going to help me become less attached.
“It’s okay for you to pop in Crave, but it’s weird for me to follow-up?”
“There’s nothing to follow-up.”
“I beg to differ.” He starts to smile but catches it before it really breaks. “Why are you here, Had?”
“I’m not. I’m leaving.”
“Will you stop fucking with me?”
“I’m not fucking with you.” I move deliberately in hopes it exudes a confidence I don’t own. He stands between me and the handle. “Will you move, please?”
“No.”
“You know what?” I say, wedging myself against him and the door. “You’re making this easier than I thought it would be.” Gripping the handle, I lift. It opens, but there’s not enough room to pull it wide because he. Won’t. Move.
I don’t look at him. I’m way too close for a move that dangerous. Instead, I tug again. The metal edge digs into his side, burying itself in the fabric of his black T-shirt, but it’s not enough to make him step away.
“What is it you’re trying to do?” he asks.
“Right now, it’s open a door.”
His chest bounces around with a deep chuckle. “Fine.” He makes an exaggerated step to the side. It’s just enough room for me to pull open the door. “I’m telling you—if I hear you met up with that asshole—”
“Oh, no,” I say, turning around. “Don’t start your shit with me.”
“It’s not shit, sweetheart.”
Despite knowing the term of endearment wasn’t used with any endearing wishes, my heart flutters. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep focus.
“And I didn’t start it,” he continues. “You’re the one who came into Crave. I didn’t come looking for you.”
“I didn’t come looking for you either.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it.
USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.
For sneak peeks, giveaways, and more, please join Adriana’s Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke, or her Goodreads group, All Locked Up.
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