Right Wrong Guy
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Date of Publication: August 4, 2015
Number of pages: 320
Sometimes two wrongs can make a right...
Bad boy wrangler Archer Kane lives fast and loose. Words like responsibility and commitment send him running in the opposite direction. Until a wild Vegas weekend puts him on a collision course with Eden Bankcroft-Kew, a New York heiress running away from her blackmailing fiancé…the morning of her wedding.
Eden has never understood the big attraction to cowboys. Give her a guy in a tailored suit any day of the week. But now all she can think about is Mr. Rugged Handsome, six-feet of sinfully sexy country charm with a pair of green eyes that keeps her tossing and turning.
Archer might be the wrong guy for a woman like her, but she's not right in thinking he'll walk away without fighting for her heart. And maybe, just maybe, two wrongs can make a right.
“Get the hell out.” Stormy’s real voice sounded a lot more Jersey Shore than genteel Georgian peach farmer. She wasn’t half bad at the whole ventriloquist gig, but now wasn’t the time to offer compliments.
He threw on his Levi’s commando-style while Stormy eyed his package as if prepping to go Category Five hurricane on his junk. Scooping his red Western shirt off the floor, he made a break for the bedroom. His boots were by the door but his hat was still on the bed, specifically on Crystal’s head. Her sleepy expression gave way to confusion as Stormy sprang from the bathroom, Great Uncle Sam leading the charge.
“What’s going on?” Crystal asked as Stormy bellowed, “Prepare to have your manwhore ass kicked back into whatever cowpoke hole you crawled from.”
Hat? Boots? Hat? Boots? Archer only had time to grab one. He slung his arms through the shirt, not bothering to snap the pearl clasps, and grabbed the hand-tooled boots while hurtling into the hall. Yeah, definitely getting too old for this shit.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he called over one shoulder as the dove swooped.
He bypassed the elevator bay in favor of the stairwell. Once he’d descended three floors, he paused to tug on his boots and his phone rang. Pulling it out from his back pocket, he groaned at the screen. Grandma Kane.
He could let it go to voice mail. In fact, he was tempted to do just that, but the thing about Grandma was she called back until you picked up.
With a heavy sigh, and a prayer for two Tylenol, he hit “answer.” “How’s the best grandma in the world?” he boomed, propping the phone between his ear and shoulder and snapping together his shirt.
“Quit with your smooth talk, boy,” Grandma barked. “Where are you?”
“Leaving church,” he fibbed quickly.
“Better not be the Little Chapel of Love.”
“What do you—”
“Don’t feed me bullhickey. You’re in Vegas again.”
Sawyer must have squeaked. As Brightwater sheriff, he was into upright citizenship and moral standing, nobler than George Washington and his fucking cherry tree.
“Did you forget about our plans for this weekend?”
“Plans?” He wracked his brain but thinking hurt. So did walking down these stairs. Come to think of it, so did breathing. He needed that upcoming coffee and bacon like a nose needed picking.
Grandma made a rude noise. “To go over the accounts for Hidden Rock. You promised to set up the new purchase-order software on the computer.”
Shit. His shoulders slumped. He had offered to help. Grandma ran a large, profitable cattle ranch, but the Hidden Rock’s inventory management was archaic, and the accounting practically done by abacus. In his hurry to see if an impromptu Vegas road trip could overcome his funk, the meeting had slipped his mind. “Let me make it up to you—”
“Your charm has no currency here, boy.” Grandpa Kane died before Archer was born and Grandma never remarried. Perhaps he should introduce her to Stormy’s Great Uncle Sam. Those two were a match made in heaven, could spend their spare time busting his balls.
He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot, okay?” Not okay. Grandma counted on him and he let her down.
“Funny, guess you’re probably too busy using women like disposable silverware.” Her tone sounded anything but amused. “Even funnier will be when I forget to put you in my will.”
Grandma’s favorite threat was disinheriting him. Who cared? The guy voted Biggest Partier and Class Flirt his senior year at Brightwater High was also the least likely to run Hidden Rock Ranch.
The line went dead. At least she didn’t ask why he couldn’t be more like Sawyer anymore.
Today, we welcome Lia Riley to Musings and Ramblings. Let's all give a big Geeky welcome!
Thank you so much for having me on your lovely blog.
Let's start with some writer specific questions before moving into the fun stuff. That way everyone can really get to know the person behind the writer. We will finish things off with a round of Think Fast. Ready for the interrogation to begin?
*Cracks knuckles* Let’s do this!
Is your writing style more plotter or pantser?
Pantser. I can’t plot to save my life. I like to be surprised along with my characters.
When is your favorite time/place to write? Do you write structured or patchworked?
Patchworked. With two kids and one on the way it’s write as catch can in my neck of the woods.
How do you deal with Writer's Block?
By writing through it and swearing. Plus shower crying.
Tell us something about yourself that's not in your bio.
I am a Virgo (and besides the super clean part I am a total Virgo)
How did you choose the genres you write in?
I like books with kissing and happy-ever-afters… sort of a no brainer for me to be in romance
What was the last movie/concert/show that you saw?
Mason Jennings (Minnesota folk rocker)
What was the name of the last book you read?
I am a huge Poldark fan (on PBS) and am plowing through the series. I am currently in the middle of Book 8. Send help.
What is your bigges pet peeve?
You are going to be stranded on a deserted island and bring 3 luxury items. What would they be?
My laptop, a solar powered generator and Wifi hotspot.
If someone wrote a biography about you, what do you think the title should be? Oh Look a Balloon: A Biography on a Highly Distractable Individual.
Elvis or Sinatra? Elvis
Meat or Veggies? Veggies
Italian or Chinese? Italian
Summer or Winter? Summer!
Cake or Pie? Pie
Thanks for coming by and spending some time with us. Any final words of wisdom to pass along?
Loved my time here. Enjoy the last bit of summer!
In this follow up to Last First Kiss, we get the story Archer Kane and Eden Bankcroft-Kew, or Edie Banks as she was known in book one. Archer is the youngest Kane brother and the the one best known for his easy laughs and manwhore ways. While Edie is trying to go a new direction in her life and decides that opening and running a local coffee shop is what she wants to do.
This story actually happens around Last First Kiss. Meaning, it starts prior to the events in that book and continues after it's conclusion. It was interesting seeing some familiar scenes through another set of eyes as well as getting a different perspective on previously met characters.
Archer and Edie had an interesting start to their relationship, meeting for the first time in a diner; each one having had a moment of insight into the direction their life's were taking them. Their meet cute had me smiling and looking forward to their further interactions. Each was a path of change, but not for the other person, for themselves. It just happened to work out that it also brought them closer together. I really liked how that worked. *smile*
This was a fun story and gave us more background and history for "America's Biggest Little Town" as well as Grandma Kane. She's really starting to grow on me. I bet there's a lot more to her than we have seen so far. I waffled back and forth between 3 and 4 stars, but ended up giving this book 4 stars (I went with 3.5 and rounded up).
Thanks to Edelweiss and Avon for the opportunity to read and review the book.
Lia Riley writes offbeat New Adult and Contemporary Adult romance. After studying at the University of Montana-Missoula, she scoured the world armed only with a backpack, overconfidence and a terrible sense of direction. She counts shooting vodka with a Ukranian mechanic in Antarctica, sipping yerba mate with gauchos in Chile and swilling XXXX with stationhands in Outback Australia among her accomplishments.
A British literature fanatic at heart, Lia considers Mr. Darcy and Edward Rochester as her fictional boyfriends. Her very patient husband doesn't mind. Much. When not torturing heroes (because c'mon, who doesn't love a good tortured hero?), Lia herds unruly chickens, camps, beach combs, daydreams about future books, wades through a mile-high TBR pile and schemes yet another trip. Right now, Icelandic hot springs and Scottish castles sound mighty fine.
To connect with the author online:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads