Title: When the Saint Falls
Series: Westbrook Three #1
Author: A.D. McCammon
Genre: NA High School Bully Romance
Release Date: January 16, 2020
Thatcher Michaelson is a bully.
Arrogant. Cruel. Ruthless.
And the most attractive guy Iāve ever laid eyes on. Heās the rebel of Westbrook high, and Iām merely the annoying goody two-shoes he dubbed the saint.
There must be something wrong with me. After nearly two years of dirty looks and constant humiliation, Iām still crushing on the guy who hated me on sight.
Then he kissed me and instead of the ice-cold gaze I was accustomed to, I saw passion burning behind his dark molten eyes.
Violet St. James doesnāt belong in my world.
Good. Kind. Pure.
Sheās everything Iām not.
She doesnāt just look like an angel, she is one. And Iāve fought every impulse to make her mine.
But all my efforts went up in flames the second I tasted her sweet lips. My inability to stay away has changed everything.
Sheās determined to break down all my walls, but my little saint doesnāt understand the consequences of her actions.
She tells me sheās not afraid of the fall.
But she should be.
"Oh my gosh... you know when you pick up a book to read and then smash it in a few hours? This story was great... I'm now hooked and want the rest of the books in the series...āā Author K. Moore
āI didnāt know I needed this book! Itās fresh and romantic and reminds me of my teenage years...āā Goodreads Reviewer
As I begin to descend the stairs, someone clears their throat behind me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Panic blooms in my chest and crawls down to the pit of my stomach, but I force my wobbly legs to keep moving.
I donāt need to turn around to know itās him. I smell his crisp, clean scent, feel the heat of his stare, hear the agitation in his heavy breaths.
āIām a little surprised by your behavior today, Saint.ā
I grind my teeth, my instincts telling me to ignore him, but I canāt resist the temptation of curiosity. āOkay, Thatcherā¦Iāll bite. What behavior?ā
āYou and your little boyfriend partaking in some foreplay in the middle of class. Not very becoming of a saint.ā
I pause at the end of the stairs, turning to face him. Which is a very bad idea. I freeze, unable to grasp onto anything other than the fact that weāre alone in the dark stairwell. Heās standing so close, the smell of the wintergreen gum heās lazily chewing invading my senses. He inches closer, and I move back, eyeing the exit as I press my backpack into the cinderblock wall. The satisfied curl of his mouth reminds me to speak.
āHeās not my boyfriend, and that was not foreplay,ā I grit out.
Itās none of Thatcherās business, but I donāt do the dating thing. I donāt have time for boys and all the things that come along with them. Even if I did, thereās only one boy Iād be interested ināand he hates me.
āIs that so?ā He rests his left hand on the wall next to my head, and I hold my breath as he leans in. āMaybe you should clue him in on that fact. He sure as hell seems to think you belong to him, putting his fucking hands all over you.ā
My eyes widen at the fury in his tone, my lungs forcing me to take in a greedy breath.
āAnd thisā¦ā His body shifts again, becoming nearly flush with mine as he lifts his right hand.
Our eyes stay locked as he reaches behind my head, pulling my hair over my shoulder and away from my neck. His fingertips connect with my skin, sending a shockwave through me. A rush of air comes out of me in a whimper as it heats my core.
With slow and concise movements, he traces over every inch Joey had explored before moving on to unchartered territory, his eyes darkening as his pupils grow larger.
His touch overwhelms me, every nerve in my body humming and rendering me as nothing more than putty in his hands. As his stare flickers to my lips, I close my eyes.
āThis right here, my precious little doll,ā he whispers, his lips so close to mine, it feels like a phantom kiss, āis definitely foreplay.ā
The moment I feel his full lips begin to blanket over mine, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and theyāre gone. My heart lodges in my throat, and I keep my eyes screwed shut, the sounds of footsteps and laughter bouncing off the walls. As the warmth of his body leaves mine, I take a calming breath. By the time I get the courage to open my eyes, heās gone.
What the hell was that?
I donāt need to turn around to know itās him. I smell his crisp, clean scent, feel the heat of his stare, hear the agitation in his heavy breaths.
āIām a little surprised by your behavior today, Saint.ā
I grind my teeth, my instincts telling me to ignore him, but I canāt resist the temptation of curiosity. āOkay, Thatcherā¦Iāll bite. What behavior?ā
āYou and your little boyfriend partaking in some foreplay in the middle of class. Not very becoming of a saint.ā
I pause at the end of the stairs, turning to face him. Which is a very bad idea. I freeze, unable to grasp onto anything other than the fact that weāre alone in the dark stairwell. Heās standing so close, the smell of the wintergreen gum heās lazily chewing invading my senses. He inches closer, and I move back, eyeing the exit as I press my backpack into the cinderblock wall. The satisfied curl of his mouth reminds me to speak.
āHeās not my boyfriend, and that was not foreplay,ā I grit out.
Itās none of Thatcherās business, but I donāt do the dating thing. I donāt have time for boys and all the things that come along with them. Even if I did, thereās only one boy Iād be interested ināand he hates me.
āIs that so?ā He rests his left hand on the wall next to my head, and I hold my breath as he leans in. āMaybe you should clue him in on that fact. He sure as hell seems to think you belong to him, putting his fucking hands all over you.ā
My eyes widen at the fury in his tone, my lungs forcing me to take in a greedy breath.
āAnd thisā¦ā His body shifts again, becoming nearly flush with mine as he lifts his right hand.
Our eyes stay locked as he reaches behind my head, pulling my hair over my shoulder and away from my neck. His fingertips connect with my skin, sending a shockwave through me. A rush of air comes out of me in a whimper as it heats my core.
With slow and concise movements, he traces over every inch Joey had explored before moving on to unchartered territory, his eyes darkening as his pupils grow larger.
His touch overwhelms me, every nerve in my body humming and rendering me as nothing more than putty in his hands. As his stare flickers to my lips, I close my eyes.
āThis right here, my precious little doll,ā he whispers, his lips so close to mine, it feels like a phantom kiss, āis definitely foreplay.ā
The moment I feel his full lips begin to blanket over mine, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and theyāre gone. My heart lodges in my throat, and I keep my eyes screwed shut, the sounds of footsteps and laughter bouncing off the walls. As the warmth of his body leaves mine, I take a calming breath. By the time I get the courage to open my eyes, heās gone.
What the hell was that?
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