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 I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s the rebel of Westbrook high, and I’m 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, I’m 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 doesn’t belong in my world.
Good. Kind. Pure.
She’s everything I’m not.
She doesn’t just look like an angel, she is one. And I’ve 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.
She’s determined to break down all my walls, but my little saint doesn’t understand the consequences of her actions.
She tells me she’s 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...”— Author K. Moore
“I didn’t know I needed this book! It’s fresh and romantic and reminds me of my teenage years...”— 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 don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. I smell his crisp, clean scent, feel the heat of his stare, hear the agitation in his heavy breaths.
“I’m a little surprised by your behavior today, Saint.”
I grind my teeth, my instincts telling me to ignore him, but I can’t resist the temptation of curiosity. “Okay, Thatcher…I’ll bite. What behavior?”
“You and your little boyfriend partaking in some foreplay in the middle of class. Not very becoming of a saint.”
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 we’re alone in the dark stairwell. He’s standing so close, the smell of the wintergreen gum he’s 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.
“He’s not my boyfriend, and that was not foreplay,” I grit out.
It’s none of Thatcher’s business, but I don’t do the dating thing. I don’t have time for boys and all the things that come along with them. Even if I did, there’s only one boy I’d be interested in—and he hates me.
“Is that so?” He rests his left hand on the wall next to my head, and I hold my breath as he leans in. “Maybe 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.”
My eyes widen at the fury in his tone, my lungs forcing me to take in a greedy breath.
“And this…” 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.
“This right here, my precious little doll,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine, it feels like a phantom kiss, “is definitely foreplay.”
The moment I feel his full lips begin to blanket over mine, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and they’re 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, he’s gone.
What the hell was that?
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. I smell his crisp, clean scent, feel the heat of his stare, hear the agitation in his heavy breaths.
“I’m a little surprised by your behavior today, Saint.”
I grind my teeth, my instincts telling me to ignore him, but I can’t resist the temptation of curiosity. “Okay, Thatcher…I’ll bite. What behavior?”
“You and your little boyfriend partaking in some foreplay in the middle of class. Not very becoming of a saint.”
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 we’re alone in the dark stairwell. He’s standing so close, the smell of the wintergreen gum he’s 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.
“He’s not my boyfriend, and that was not foreplay,” I grit out.
It’s none of Thatcher’s business, but I don’t do the dating thing. I don’t have time for boys and all the things that come along with them. Even if I did, there’s only one boy I’d be interested in—and he hates me.
“Is that so?” He rests his left hand on the wall next to my head, and I hold my breath as he leans in. “Maybe 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.”
My eyes widen at the fury in his tone, my lungs forcing me to take in a greedy breath.
“And this…” 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.
“This right here, my precious little doll,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine, it feels like a phantom kiss, “is definitely foreplay.”
The moment I feel his full lips begin to blanket over mine, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and they’re 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, he’s gone.
What the hell was that?
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