The Montgomerys just got hotter... RESTLESS INK by Carrie Ann Ryan releases September 18th, but you can read part of the first chapter now! Check it out below and preorder your copy now!

 

About RESTLESS INK

RESTLESS INK releases September 18th - preorder your copy now!

 

Read part of the first chapter of RESTLESS INK!

Thea Montgomery flopped down on the bed and knew that tonight was the first and last time she’d sleep with Roger. She never should have slept with a man name Roger anyway. He was just as dull as his name suggested. She’d gone into date number six thinking that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed and wondering if maybe her standards were set too high. After all, not every Roger could be Roger Federer— the king of Rogers and the court. She’d liked this Roger, at least she’d assumed she did. She’d thought that if she worked harder, they’d have more than just their small attraction. And because she liked sex, and she thought she liked Roger, she’d slept with him. He let out a pleased sigh beside her, and she held back a sigh of her own— of a very different kind. This had been a mistake. But not her first, and probably not her last. Damn it, Thea, get your act together. Okay, that wasn’t fair. She was the sensible Montgomery. The one that joked about sex with her sisters but rarely had it. She’d been too busy starting her business and far too picky to jump into bed with just anyone. And since it had taken six dates with Roger to get to this stage, she figured she really wasn’t jumping. It was more like a gentle hop. But there’d been nothing hopping in bed with Roger tonight, and now she hated that she sounded so callous about it. Even to herself. He was sweet. He was nice. And… he had no idea what he was doing with his hands or his tongue. And she had a feeling if she were to tell him something along those lines— even gently— and try to show him what she wanted, he’d be one of those guys that pushed back, blaming it on her. It had happened once or twice. Okay, four times, but seriously, some guys needed to watch a little less anal porn and a little more cunnilingus. It wasn’t that hard. Roger turned over at that moment and reached out to pat her stomach. She winced since that wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, but then again, nothing about what had just happened could be classified as romance. Ugh, now she felt bad, but there was nothing she could do with her feelings except feel them. Her family had taught her that. And she really shouldn’t be thinking of family lessons while naked in bed with a man she wasn’t going to see again. “So… nice, eh?” Dear God. “Sure. It was great.” She could hear the false note in her tone, but she wasn’t sure he could. She hated herself just a bit that she hadn’t had any fun, but she’d thought that maybe if she tried hard enough, things would work out. Apparently, there just wasn’t enough chemistry between them, and she probably should have figured that out before she got into bed with him, but she’d thought there’d been enough. “I have an early day tomorrow, but I’ll walk you out.” She barely held back a slow blink. Walk her out? Why didn’t she just leave money on the table on her way to the door? She sat up, using the sheet to cover herself since she didn’t really feel like baring herself more than she already had and pasted a smile on her face. She’d wanted to leave anyway, but now she felt as though she had to. As if she weren’t good enough for him to even want to talk to beyond patting her on the stomach like a dog who’d learned a new trick and wanted some love. Hell, she needed to get out of there before she got angry and said something she would regret. Because before this moment, Roger had been nice. Maybe too nice. Perhaps that niceness had covered up his bad sex and selfish ways. Now, she really needed to get out of there. He sat in bed, looking pleased with himself as she put on her panties while still hiding under the sheet. She slid into her dress, not bothering with her bra since she couldn’t do that one-handed. And even as she clumsily tried to dress behind the sheet, he lay there. Watching her. Why had she thought he was nice? Oh, because he had been. But not the kind of nice she needed in her life. Finally, she dropped the sheet since she now wore her panties and dress. She quickly stuffed her bra into her tiny purse, the straps hanging out, slid her feet into her heels, and wrapped her jacket around herself. She’d dressed up for this date and had thought it might lead to something more. Boy had she been wrong. “Don’t bother locking the door on your way out. I’ll get up and do it soon. Wore me out, you know?” He winked, and Thea knew she needed a shower— and maybe a bath, too. A hot one that would take off the first layer of her skin because she was never going to get the feeling of him off her. What had she been thinking? Roger? Jesus, she needed to take a hard look at her life and maybe never go on another date with a man because she’d seriously never felt this humiliated. It didn’t matter that she’d taken her time, done her research on him, and had wanted to make sure she liked him before she went to bed with him. It hadn’t been enough. Men were slime, and Roger was the slimiest. “Yeah. Sure. Bye.” “Thanks for tonight, babe. I’ll call you.” “Don’t bother,” she whispered as she walked away, her middle finger in the air. It was possible he couldn’t see it, but it was still warranted. “Don’t be that way, babe,” he yelled from the bedroom where he still hadn’t moved, but she ignored him, closing the front door softly behind her. As much as she wanted to slam it, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of her showing any emotion beyond coldness. Because she was Thea, the ice bitch who played with icing in her bakery. She knew what her exes had said before, and now Roger would just be another of those who thought her cold or something along those lines. Whatever, she was done with men. She got into her car, threw her purse onto the passenger seat, and made her way to the grocery store. She was so freaking mad, she didn’t even want to bake. That’s when she knew that something was wrong, and if she didn’t get some sugar soon, she would break— and that wasn’t something Roger deserved. And because she didn’t want to do something she loved, she knew she was right at the level where she’d start crying in her car, and she refused to do that. So, she’d go to the store, pick up some ice cream, then eat the whole pint before she went to bed. Alone. Because, of course, she would be alone. Why wouldn’t she be? “Ugh,” Thea whispered to herself, annoyed at her train of thought. She hated self-pity, but being tossed out after a particularly bad bout of sex had kind of sent her over the edge into the land of meh. As soon as she parked, she leapt from the car, purse in hand, and made her way into the twenty-four-hour market.
Hopefully, she’d be in and out quickly, and no one she knew would see her do her version of a sugar-loaded walk of shame. Of course, that’s when her heel broke. Because… of course, it did. Nothing good ever came from lack of orgasms. Fuck this night. Fuck it hard. Fuck it harder than she’d been fucked. Though that wouldn’t be hard, because… Roger. She picked up the broken part of her heel and limped her way to the frozen food section. She’d be damned if she left without her sugar. Now, though, she’d buy five pints because it was just that kind of night. Thea was just deciding between the low-calorie fake ice cream and the good old-fashioned heavy cream version when a familiar voice called her name. “Thea?” Why not tonight? Seriously. Why wouldn’t this man be right by her after everything that had happened already? Seemed about right. She rolled her shoulders back and turned to Dimitri, her best friend’s ex-husband and Thea’s friend, as well. If she were going to meet anyone in a grocery store after what had turned out to be a horrible date while wearing a broken heel, her version of the walk of shame outfit, and messy bedhead hair that tumbled down her shoulders in dark waves, it might as well be him. “Hey, Dimitri.” Dimitri. The man had once been in her life just as much as Molly had. Thea had been friends with both of them and had even known the two separately before they started dating. She’d also refused to take sides during the separation and then after the divorce. Of course, it had always been Molly who wanted Thea to take a side. Dimitri stayed quiet, clearly hurting from the breakup at the time and the changes in his life. He’d tried to keep his friendship with Thea soon after the papers had been signed and even a few months following that, but Thea had always felt awkward because of Molly. Now, she had a feeling she’d made the wrong choice because Dimitri was her friend too, and she’d lost him. She looked over the line of his jaw, the bend on his nose from where he’d broken it in a bar fight in college— a scuffle that had been about protecting a friend and not because of too many drinks. He wore a cotton shirt under his leather jacket that clung to his wide chest, and jeans that molded to his thighs— not that she was looking at his legs. She knew he had a large tattoo on one quad that was part of his family history, words in Cyrillic that she’d never been able to decipher. He also had a grouping of trees on his forearm and wrist that made a half-sleeve that he’d said reminded him of his family’s home. He was a fourth-generation American and had never been to the place his family hailed from, even his last name wasn’t Russian, but he’d always loved his ink. That much Thea remembered about him, even though she hadn’t set eyes on him in a month— though it felt like far longer. His brow rose as he studied her, his gaze traveling down her dress to her broken heel. It wasn’t like she could hide anything. “Are you okay?” He didn’t smile as he said it. In fact, he looked angry, really angry. “Do you want me to take you somewhere? To talk?” She blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.” Well, she would be fine once she had her ice cream and a long bath, but she didn’t need to tell him the details. Dimitri moved closer and lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. She ignored the heat of his breath on her neck. Apparently, she was having an off night if she were even thinking about that at all. “Your dress is on inside out underneath your coat, you have a broken heel, your hair looks tangled, and your bra is in your purse. Are you sure you’re okay? Did someone attack you? I’ll take you out of here right now and do whatever you need. Just let me help.” Dear. God. There had to be a better word than mortification for what slid through her right then. If there were a hole opening up anywhere around her, she’d freely jump into it. She’d forgotten about her damn bra and could now clearly remember the straps dangling from her purse. And because she’d been trying to keep the sheet over herself, she’d put on her dress incorrectly, and hadn’t noticed because she just wanted out of Roger’s place. Could this night get any worse? She shouldn’t even tempt the fates with that question. She just hoped they hadn’t heard her think it.  

 

About Carrie Ann Ryan

Carrie Ann Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her works include the Montgomery Ink, Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Gallagher Brothers series, which have sold over 2.0 million books worldwide. She started writing while in graduate school for her advanced degree in chemistry and hasn’t stopped since. Carrie Ann has written over fifty novels and novellas with more in the works. When she’s not writing about bearded tattooed men or alpha wolves that need to find their mates, she’s reading as much as she can and exploring the world of baking and gourmet cooking.