Spotlight & Giveaway: Trusted & True by Rhenna Morgan

Today, HJ is pleased to share with you Rhenna Morgan’s new release: Trusted & True

Come hell or high water, the Men of Haven always ride or die for one of their own. Follow the brothers as they come together once again in the long-awaited seventh book in Rhenna Morgan’s Men of Haven series.

 
The last person Callie Moore is prepared to see when she shows up for a job interview is Danny Parker, the guy who witnessed her at her worst and gave her an ultimatum: get clean or don’t ever ask for help again. It’s been years since then, and Callie’s been through hell, but she’s finally doing the work to change her life. That doesn’t mean she couldn’t use the job. And it doesn’t mean her troubled past is completely behind her, either.

When his best friend’s sister-in-law walks in looking for a job and a second—or is it third—chance, Danny isn’t so sure he’s willing to risk it. Even if he does desperately need the help at his custom car shop.

Letting Callie back into his life opens Danny’s eyes, and heart, to the woman she is now—and the man he wants to become. If anyone has a problem with that, too bad. Including his skeptical Haven brothers. But when a dangerous part of the life Callie’s left behind comes to town, seeking revenge, the family will have to join together to save her—as well as the innocent Haven life caught in the cross fire.

The Men of Haven: fierce passion, unyielding loyalty.

Especially when it comes to their women.

Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Trusted & True 

I’d always been a guy to go with my gut. Not in an irrational, hold-my-beer kind of way. I’d had a few friends like that in my early twenties and their antics reeked more of stupidity and overinflated egos to my mind.
No, my way was more about honoring those quiet, subtle nudges that popped up now and again. Taking a left on a country road when I normally went right just to see where it took me. Bending a piece of steel in a way I hadn’t planned on when working on a car. Not taking my eye off someone when my instincts told me they were about to throw a punch or pull a weapon.
But what I was feeling now…this insistent push that had me ignoring all the ripples that might come later…it was powerful. An engine built with a scary amount of horsepower just begging me to press down on the accelerator.
I downshifted the Chevelle and took the exit ramp off the highway, stealing a glance at Callie just before I checked oncoming traffic from the access road. Most women I’d taken out wouldn’t have dreamed of driving with the windows down. Especially in summer or on the highway.
But not Callie.
She’d rolled her own down as soon as I’d pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot and had given me that schoolgirl delighted smile again when I’d done the same.
God, that look.
That absolutely glowing, ear-to-ear smile that made her eyes shine ten times brighter.
Three times now I’d earned it and every single one of them had made me feel like I was the only fucking man in the universe. Like I’d somehow hung the moon with one hand tied behind my back. I’d never felt anything like it in my life, but I knew—hands down—it was precious. A gift I wanted to be worthy of and hoard for myself all at the same time.
Finally unhindered by the wind and highway noise when a red light forced us to a stop, I hit her up with the question that’d been circling in my head. “You heard from Viv yet?”
With her elbow anchored on the window ledge and her face lit up by the sun, the pleasure in her expression dimmed just a fraction. A soft wistfulness replaced it. “No, not yet.” She faced me, her cheeks a little pink from the warmth of the sun. “I can’t really blame her, though. I’ve kind of blown any reason for her to trust me ten ways to Sunday. Getting that back will take time. And space. Or so Maggie’s reminded me every single day for the last eleven days.”
“Maggie?”
“My sponsor.”
I’d done my share of time on Google since making an ass of myself the day before and had finally figured out a sponsor in Alcoholics Anonymous was a person of the same sex who was your go-to while you figured out how to live sober. That was, unless the person getting sober was gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Then the name of the game was picking someone you didn’t stand a chance in hell of being attracted to. Whatever it took to make sure romance didn’t wander into the equation. “She live here, or in Louisiana?”
“Louisiana. Has a cute little farmhouse a few miles away from the treatment center you guys took me to. She’s colorful, to say the least. Has a sky blue 1980 Seville Cadillac, which—if you ask me—suits her personality to a T. That and all the bulky plastic jewelry she wears. Great big bold stuff in vivid colors—just like the woman.”
“She sounds nice.”
“She is. Unless I’ve got my head up my ass…which is about every other day, sometimes. Then she’s the most direct woman on the planet.”
I hesitated with my next question, hating that I might stray into territory that caused her restored mood to tank again. Then I remembered—if I was gonna weigh in with Callie the way I wanted to, neither one of us could afford poor communication. “You talk to Maggie about us?”
A pretty blush stole across her checks and, for a brief moment, she looked away while she seemed to gather her thoughts. “Sort of. I told her what happened last week. Then I called her today because I was nervous.”
“Nervous about what?”
She shrugged and traced an absent pattern on her thigh. “I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight.”
I chuckled at that and turned onto the road that would take us to her apartment complex. “Well, that makes two of us.” I glanced at her long enough to find her peeking my direction with a whole lot of curiosity then turned my attention back to the road. “I’m gonna guess whatever you and Maggie talk about belongs just between you and Maggie, but any chance she offered up some words of wisdom I could use, too?”
If I’d had any doubt as to the depth of the bond between them, they were shattered by the fondness in her voice when she spoke. “She said that facing our fears usually generates the biggest rewards and that I should always check my motives. That I knew the difference between what healthy and unhealthy felt like now. And then she told me I should get out there and dance.”
Callie wasn’t wrong. Maggie sounded like a helluva woman. “Are you afraid right now?”
I made it into a parking space and had the gearshift in park before she finally answered. “A little.”
I shifted in my chair to better give her my attention, appreciating how the sun setting in the distance set her up with a halo of deep auburn. “Of me? Or the unknown?”
“Not of you.” She paused a moment, and her gaze grew distant until she seemed to find the right words. “Do you remember your first date?”
Whoa. Talk about digging back in the archives. “Uh, yeah. Rachel Wiseman. Assuming a clueless sixteen-year-old boy taking a fifteen-year-old girl to an arcade counts as a date in your book.”
Her grin deepened at that. “That sounds like a killer date. Did you kiss her?”
Oh, I’d kissed her all right. Then I’d had to come up with about fifteen minutes of small talk while sitting in the car with her before I could walk her to the front door without a boner. But I figured that wasn’t the best bit of intel to share right now. “Probably not my best showing in the history of kisses, but yeah. I stole one before the night was over.”
“Were you nervous?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Didn’t have a clue how to make that play. Other than a bunch of ideas my buddies had thrown around the day before. All of which ended up being utterly useless. Why?”
She hesitated only a second with her words, but uncertainty was written all over her face when she spoke. “Because how you felt then—not knowing how to go about things or what to expect? That’s me right now.”
I guess the fact that I wasn’t exactly tracking was written all over my face, because her voice dropped in volume and she added, “I can’t remember even so much as getting a single kiss when I wasn’t drunk. Every bit of physical contact I’ve ever known I’ve processed through the haze of at least alcohol.”
The weight of what she was saying hit me with the subtlety of a two-by-four. When she’d told me she had no clue how to navigate a relationship, she’d really meant she really had no clue. “So, in a matter of speaking, when I walk you to your door and give you a kiss, I’ll be your first.”
The minute the words were out of my mouth, something seriously primal inside me woke up and growled its approval. And, given the hungry look that had taken over Callie’s face, I was thinking something inside her had heard it and agreed.
“If that’s your plan,” she said, “then yeah. I guess you could say that. In a manner of speaking.”
I liked that.
Actually, I fucking loved it.
Loved the idea that I could be the one to mark her with all kinds of first-time memories untainted by booze. Memories that had the potential to be etched in her brain for a lifetime.

Excerpt. ©Rhenna Morgan. Posted by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.

Giveaway: One (1) Mass Market Paperback copy of TRUSTED & TRUE by Rhenna Morgan. U.S. and Canada only.

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Meet the Author:

A native Oklahoman, Rhenna Morgan is a certified romance junkie. Whether it’s contemporary, paranormal, or fantasy you’re after, Rhenna’s stories pack romantic escape full of new, exciting worlds, and strong, intuitive men who fight to keep the women they want. For advance release news and exclusive content, sign up for her newsletter at http://RhennaMorgan.com. You’ll also find all of her social links there, along with her smoking hot inspiration boards.

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Men of Haven