CRUSHED

Redemption, Volume THREE

A Love Story

Ebook and audiobook only. No paperback available, per decision of the publisher, Penguin Random House.

Steamy, with explicit sex scenes.

This book is written in first-person, alternating the heroine and heroine's POV.

Eager to leave past mistakes behind in New York City, Michael starts anew in a small town in Texas where his plans of meeting his biological father put him straight into the path of Chloe, a witty outcast with a plan of her own.

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Available in ebook only in the US. No paperback or audio version, per decision of Penguin Random House.

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BOOK DESCRIPTION

Lauren Layne’s latest novel about the healing power of redemption tells the story of a crush gone wickedly wrong, proving that what you want isn’t always what you need.

Growing up in New York, Michael St. Claire never expected to spend his twenties wearing cowboy boots. But that was before he learned about his real father, a total stranger with a family in Cedar Grove, Texas. Once in the Lone Star State, Michael meets Kristin Bellamy, who is exquisitely refined and everything Michael always thought he wanted in a woman. The only problem is that Kristin is dating Michael’s new half brother, Devon.

Kristin’s mouthy, curvy sister Chloe has always been in love with Devon Patterson. So when Michael offers to help Chloe break up Devon and Kristin, Chloe agrees to a deal that seems too good to be true. Before long, Chloe finally gets her man, only to make a startling discovery: She no longer wants the guy she had to fight for—she wants the one who stood by her side.

After all he and Chloe have been through, Michael swears he’s damaged goods. Can Chloe convince him that love is worth the risk?

an excerpt

Michael snags my hand before I can make it to the bedroom door and pulls me back, first so that I’m facing him again, then even closer so there’s just a few inches between us.

His face is softer now, and my heart starts to pound. I’m pretty sure his
expression is just pity for clunky, unsexy Chloe, but some distant part of my brain wants it to be something more than pity.
“Practice on me,” he says, his voice easy and casual.

It takes too long for his words to register because my eyes have latched on to his mouth. It’s as sulky as ever, but for some reason the sulky now looks appealing rather than just annoying. Like, I want to be the one to banish the sulky.

“Huh?” I say.

“Your kissing skills. Practice them on me.”

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