Hate to love you, p.1
Hate to Love You, page 1
HATE TO LOVE YOU
Written by Shayla Black
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Includes:
MORE THAN TEMPT YOU © 2019 by Shelley Bradley LLC
SEDUCING THE ENEMY © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC
WATCH ME © 2007 by Shelley Bradley LLC
This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.
Copyright 2022 Shelley Bradley LLC
Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly
Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter
Proofread by: Fedora Chen
Excerpt from More Than Dare You © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC
Excerpt from Seduced by the Bodyguard © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC
Excerpt from Naughty Little Secret © 2014 by Shelley Bradley LLC
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ISBN: 978-1958075166
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.
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All rights reserved.
Contents
More Than Tempt You
About More Than Tempt You
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Seducing the Enemy
About Seducing the Enemy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Epilogue
Watch Me
About Watch Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
What to read next!
Other Books by Shayla Black
About Shayla Black
ABOUT MORE THAN TEMPT YOU
I romanced her for revenge…but what if she’s not the enemy?
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I’m Clint Holmes—hands-on business owner and a beast in the bedroom. Life was great—until fate ripped my father from my life. Now the only thing that matters is finding the woman responsible and making her pay. But beauty Bethany Banks is a Harvard-educated shark used to playing dangerous corporate games. How can a blue-collar guy like me outsmart her?
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One glance, and the answer is obvious. I seduce her.
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During our slow-dance of secrets and lies, I get to know the supposed ballbuster…only to discover her ambition and tough exterior hide a woman who’s vulnerable and heartbreakingly alone. Instinct urges me to protect her, but I came for retribution. Night after night, I ply her with my burning touch until I drown in her pleasure. Suddenly, I’m addicted and questioning everything, especially the fine line between love and hate. But when the past comes back with a vengeance, exposing the truth, can I prove that I’m more than tempted to make her mine forever?
Foreword
There are infinite ways to tell someone you love them. Some of the most powerful don’t require words at all. This was the truth rolling through my head when I first conceived of this series, writing about a love so complete that mere letters strung together to make sentences weren’t an adequate communicator of those feelings. Instead, for this series, music was my go-to choice.
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I love music. I’m always immersed in it and spend hours a day with my ear buds plugged in. I write to music. I think to music. I even sleep to music. I was thrilled to incorporate songs into the story I felt were meaningful to the journey. I think of it this way: a movie has a soundtrack. Why shouldn’t a book?
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So I created one.
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Some of the songs I’ve selected will be familiar. Some are old. Some are newer. Some popular. Some obscure. They all just fit (in my opinion) and came straight from the heart. I listened to many of these songs as I wrote the book.
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For maximum understanding (and feels), I seriously recommend becoming familiar with these songs and either playing them or rolling them around in your head as you read. Due to copyright laws, I can’t use exact lyrics, but I tried to give you the gist of those most meaningful to Clint and Bethany’s story. I’ve also made it simple for you to give these songs a listen by creating a Spotify playlist. Click here for all the enjoyment.
Hugs and happy reading!
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BEER RUN - Garth Brooks featuring George Jones
DON’T STOP BELIEVIN’ - Journey
STRONGER (WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU) - Kelly Clarkson
DARE YOU TO MOVE - Switchfoot
HAPPY - Pharrell Williams
SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
I WON’T GIVE UP - Jason Mraz
FORTRESS AROUND YOUR HEART - Sting
PLEASE FORGIVE ME - Bryan Adams
DIG - Incubus
Prologue
June
Rural North Dakota
Clint
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“Come home.”
I groan as I glance across the room at my father. Not again… “Dad, we’ve talked about this.”
“No, you’ve talked about it. I haven’t said my piece.”
“But I know your spiel. Look, I’ve transplanted, and my roots are here now. My business is growing again. I’m still a newer kid on the block in the oil industry around here, so it’s taking time.” I lean back in my chair and grip my cold beer. “But I’m okay with that. Besides, you don’t need me; you still have Bry at home.”
My father huffs, then takes a drag of his cigar. “Until he goes off to college in the fall. Besides, when do you think your youngest brother is ever home? He’s a seventeen-year-old boy who’s just graduated from high school and has his own wheels. At that age, when were you home?”
He’s got a valid point, but… “I know it’s been hard since Mom’s death. The last eighteen months have been an adjustment for everyone.”
“It’s not that. Open your eyes, son. The oil boom will likely bust again. Five years ago, this was a great business, and you were in the right place at the right time. Even Bethany agreed,” he says of his investment advisor, whom he constantly raves about. “But now, it’s time to cut your losses before they go any deeper. OPEC wants to put US oil production out of business, and they have the resources to make that happen. They did really well at choking your business last year.”
I can’t deny that. Twelve months ago, I was lamenting high costs and dismal profits. “This year has been better so far.”
“Slightly. C’mon, Clint. Do you really want to eke out a living? Sell this thing. You’ll get a pretty penny for the business, even if the industry isn’t at its hottest right now.” He hunkers back in my favorite leather chair and takes a sip of his whiskey. “If your mother’s death taught me anything, it was that life is even shorter than people warn you. Forty-nine was way too young to die, but that didn’t matter. Her number was up. Watching her go through all that breast cancer treatment just about killed me.”
Me, too. I wasn’t there for the worst since I moved to North Dakota at nineteen and went straight to work, eventually building my own oil services business from the ground up. But I came home for the end. Seeing her so frail and wasted devastated me. Losing her gutted my family. “I know, Dad.”
When I reach across the space to take his hand, he squeezes mine. “Look, I want to retire. I want to do all the things your mother and I planned to before I pass on. We were going to get season tickets to one of those fancy theaters. We were going to drive up Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco and see the sights. Hell, we were going to take a Hawaiian vacation. We didn’t follow through on any of those plans because we had three growing boys and always thought there would be time. And now…she’s gone.”
When my father chokes back emotion, I squeeze his hand again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. She would have chosen keeping you kids happy over a vacation any day.”
“But she worked all her life and didn’t get to enjoy the quieter years. That upsets you, I know.”
“Yes, but it upsets me more that I promised her I’d do all those things after she was gone. So far, I’ve done nothing but grieve and try to figure out how to carry on.”
Guilt tugs at me. If I stay in North Dakota, I’ll be following my own path. If I give that up to return to La-La Land, I’ll be helping my family, yes. But I’ll also be assuming a business that never interested me and putting myself smack-dab in the middle of crowds, congestion, and smog—all the reasons I left LA—again.
“What about Bret? He’s going to graduate from UCLA next year with a business degree. I never went to college. Would he be better equipped—”
“You think he’s ready to leave the frat house and walk straight into a multimillion-dollar-a-year bu
“You’re only fifty-three.”
“After your mother’s passing, I feel ancient.”
He’s not his usual, robust self. I know he’s not sleeping well, and I guess that’s age. But he seems more fatigued than I would have thought. Two years ago, he walked to my favorite fishing spot without any trouble. Today, he was short of breath on the same short trek. Even now, hours after our return, a fine sheen of perspiration beads on his forehead. Granted, it’s almost ninety degrees and humid as hell outside, but it’s comfortable in the air-conditioned house.
“Dad, you just got here yesterday. Enjoy your vacation. Maybe you’ll feel refreshed at the end of two weeks and—”
“I’ve been thinking about this for months. Now I want you to think about it. Please.”
How can I say no to that?
“All right. I’ll consider it.”
My father smiles wide. “Great. I worry about you out here, you know.”
“Why?” I love the wide-open spaces and the down-to-earth people. Sure, it gets colder than a well-digger’s butt and summers can be miserably hot, but I appreciate the beauty of nature—something you see almost none of in Los Angeles.
“I didn’t see many pretty single girls while we drove through town. There don’t seem to be any way out here, just a bunch of prairie dogs and cows. And I know better than to think they’re keeping you warm at night.”
Admittedly, that’s one of the biggest drawbacks to living in the middle of nowhere. I’ve already dated all the single women within a hundred-mile radius. None of them are for me. When I want to feel a warm female, I have to go to Williston or Bismarck, hit a bar, and hope I get lucky. Most often I do, but sometimes I strike out. It happens. North Dakota is one of the few states where males outnumber females, especially in the western half of the state, where the surge of oil workers has made the odds of hitting a home run shittier.
“No. I’m definitely not into anything with four legs, Dad.”
He laughs, absently rubbing at a spot under his right shoulder. “Come back to California. The timing is perfect. You can run my business. It’s booming. It will make you rich. You can stop getting your hands dirty every day.” He peers at the grease that seems permanently embedded under my fingernails, no matter how hard I scrub. “You can spend more time with me and your brothers. And I want to introduce you to Bethany.”
“I don’t need a financial advisor right now.” Especially not one in a state I don’t reside in.
“Maybe not. It never hurts to start investing, in my opinion. But that’s not what I meant.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he’s saying. “You’re trying to hook me up with her?”
“She’s beautiful and smart and sweet. You’d like her, son. You’d like her a lot.”
I know zero about this woman, and since I don’t want to move to LA, I’m interested even less. “You date her, Dad. You’re single.”
“Oh, no. No. She’s way closer to your age than mine. She’s ambitious, on the quiet side, very direct. I trust her. At least let me introduce you next time you’re home…”
If I keep refusing, he’ll only keep wheedling. Like his entire proposition that I move back to LA and assume his business, it’s better to defer than refuse. For all I know, he may change his mind again tomorrow.
“I’ll think about it.”
He pastes on a big smile and whips out his phone, then presses and swipes until he finds his photos. “We took this last month when we got together for our quarterly meeting. She even brought me a bottle of my favorite whiskey for my birthday. I asked, and she’s single…”
To humor him, I lean in to look at the display. The smiling blonde looks chic and, I admit, stunning in a fitted, feminine gray sheath. Her rosy-pale coloring looks almost icy in the photo, but her eyes are a warm mossy green.
If I met her in a bar, I’d definitely try my luck. And I’d probably keep trying until she said yes. She’s hot.
“Well, I can’t fault your taste in women.”
He laughs heartily, then darkens his phone. Before he can pocket it, the device rings. Thank goodness for WiFi-supported calling. Out here, the cell service is shit.
Dad glances at the display. “It’s Brenda. One minute.”
His secretary. Probably work. I take that as my cue to head to the kitchen for another beer. When I turn back, my dad is rubbing at that spot just below his shoulder again. Did he pull a muscle?
“Another whiskey?” I ask just before he answers the call.
“Hello?” He presses the phone to his ear and shakes his head.
As I head out of the room, I zone out from their conversation and flip on the kitchen radio. Garth Brooks and George Jones are singing a familiar, up-tempo song about a beer run. Grinning, I grab another brew from the fridge, pop off the cap, and take a swallow.
My dad has visibly aged recently, and I think it’s because his business runs him. It’s high demand. I guess that makes sense for insurance. But being a desk jockey would make me insane. I like spending time outdoors too much and I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. Not much call for that in his line of work. I definitely don’t want to talk all day about premiums and car accidents.
As I toss the little metal disc in the nearby trash can, my father’s voice booms. I hear the shock. It’s a tone I’ve only heard once—after my mother’s doctors told my parents her breast cancer was terminal. This blow is every bit as gut-deep and stunned.
I flip off the radio and go running, only to find my dad sheet-white and blinking as he clutches the phone. “Everything?”
“What?” I ask.
He waves me away with a scowl and begins rubbing at the spot under his shoulder even harder. “Everything. I don’t… That’s thirty-five years of work. Of savings. Oh, shit. And he was arrested yesterday?”
What the hell is he talking about? And who? “Dad?”
He shakes his head again. “Keep making phone calls. I’ll do the same and I’ll be on a plane home tomorrow. If you find out anything else… Yes. Of course. I’m going to call Bethany right now. Thank you.”
The moment he hangs up, I’m beside him. “What happened?”
“According to Brenda, Barclay Reed, the head of my investment firm, was arrested yesterday. He’s been charged with running a giant Ponzi scheme, and every penny of his clients’ investments is gone.” He blinks as if he’s in total disbelief. “I’ve got to call Bethany. He’s her dad. Barclay, I mean. I’m not supposed to know that. She’s illegitimate. It’s hush-hush, but… She’ll tell me what’s happening. She’s honest. There must be some explanation. I saw her less than four weeks ago, and everything was fine. She showed me all the reports. My money was growing. It can’t suddenly be gone…”
He rises unsteadily to his feet. I ease him back down. He looks almost gray now. Shock, I suspect. But I’m worried. He’s sweating more and seems short of breath.
