Soaked by Stacy Kestwick
Waters Edge #2
Having hope was her weakness.
If Sadie Mullins hadn’t started to believe in love again, hadn’t let herself fall for him, she wouldn’t be feeling this way.
Wouldn’t have her heart breaking.
Wouldn’t regret meeting West Montgomery.
The cocky bastard should have left her alone, let her forget about him.
Let her move on with her life.
Of course, he didn’t.
That could have been the end of it.
Of course, it wasn’t.
*This is Book 2 in the Water’s Edge Series and is a continuation of Sadie and West’s story that began in Wet. This is not a standalone.*
Soaked is book #2 in the Water’s Edge series, I was gifted an ARC of this book to read for Gemma Reads Too Much.
I really enjoyed Wet the first book in this series but it feels like a long time since I read it and it took be the first couple of chapters of Soaked to reacquaint myself with the characters and what happened in Wet.
I really like this authors writing style it’s very easy and flows brilliantly. Everything feels very conversational and that’s not something you find all the time.
I thought Nick was a really interesting addition to the cast of characters but honestly I could have seen him and Sadie together. The photography session scene was hot with a capital H and I’d love to see more of him in the future.
I missed West in this book, he just wasn’t in it enough!!!
Sadie is sort of broken for the whole story and I was almost shouting for her to just grow a pair of balls!!!! I’m not saying that West did nothing wrong because he definitely pulled out some idiotic moves. But Sadie practically stamps doormat across her head and lets Audrey walk all over her!!!
I even missed Audrey’s special brand of crazy because she is barely in this book either!!
This is a great easy reading series but for me this second book lacked the edge and spark that I found in Wet.
I’m glad that this couple got their happy ending.
Soaked gets 3.5 stars from me.
The bartender was my new best friend. I frowned. Well, after Rue. And Theo. My third best-est friend. Because she kept pouring me these great margaritas.
I normally hated margaritas.
But Alison? My third best-est friend? She made some damn good ones. And there were so many flavors! Lime was okay. Mango was better. Watermelon wasn’t that great, but I drank it anyway because I didn’t want to hurt its feelings. I was almost finished with blood orange and it might have been my favorite, but I still had two flavors to go, so who knew?
The only thing I needed to decide on was whether pink lemonade or pineapple was next.
Wasn’t pineapple supposed to make cum taste sweeter?
Wait — that only worked if the guy drank it. Right?
I couldn’t remember now.
And it was fucking glorious.
Alison was my new third best-est friend and blood orange margaritas were the shit.
Best. Night. Ever.
I swung my head around when I heard the stool next to me being slid across the terracotta-tiled floor and almost lost my balance.
But Nick caught me.
Niiiiiiick. He looked nice tonight. Tight, dark shirt. Fitted khakis. I could kind of see the outline of his bulge against the fabric.
It wasn’t bad.
West had a nice bulge too.
I wrinkled my forehead. No. I shook my head. No.
Not thinking about him tonight.
Hey! Nick was here. Maybe he could drink the pineapple margarita and help me remember. I could get the pink lemonade one then.
I grinned up at him, and poked him in the chest with my finger.
“Alison!” I yelled. “This guy—” poke “—needs a pineapple margarita. And I’ll take the lemonade one next.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked at Nick for confirmation.
Nick with the bulge.
He leaned closer to me. “Why pineapple?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because I can’t remember. And this will solve the problem!”
“Can’t remember what?”
“If it’ll make you taste sweeter.”
He stared at me, then coughed. “Do you mean—”
I leaned over and patted his lap. “Down here.”
I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.
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