Author Sawyer Bennet is debuting a new sweet southern alter-ego Juliette Poe! Read an exclusive excerpt from Poe’s new novel Ain’t He Precious? here!
About ‘Ain’t He Precious?’ by Juliette Poe:
Welcome to Whynot, North Carolina, population 3,872. It has one stoplight, one bar, and the one-and-only Trixie Mancinkus.
Eleven years ago, Trixie graduated Harvard Law, turned down a job offer from one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston, and headed home to Whynot to open her own firm. Not only did she leave behind the big city, but she also left her boyfriend of three years. And just so we’re clear… that would be me.
So what am I doing in Whynot at this very moment? It seems Trixie needs help with a legal case and for some insane reason, she called on me for assistance. I’ve been in town for five minutes, and I’m every bit as out of place as I feel. Trixie is all sweet, southern curves to my tailored suits and high-priced haircuts. It’s a culture clash of north versus south and about the only thing we have in common is our physical attraction to each other.
But I have a new motto since coming to Whynot: When life hands you lemons, all you need is a little sex and sweet tea to make things better.
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‘Ain’t He Precious?’ by Juliette Poe excerpt:
A hand at my shoulder, a gentle shaking, and a sweet, lilting voice. “Ry… it’s time to get up.”
Pain shoots through my head as I struggle to get my eyes open. My room is glowing, and I wince from light that I immediately note is from the bedside lamp.
Trixie sits at the edge of my bed, her hand warm on my bare shoulder. “Let’s go. Pap will be here soon.”
“What?” I mumble, taking great effort to peel my tongue away from the roof of my mouth.
Another pain shoots through my head.
“Fishing,” she says with a light laugh. Despite how much I’ve always adored that sound from Trixie, it causes another jolt of misery to flash across my forehead.
“Jesus, Trix,” I groan as my hand comes up to rub across my eyes, which only increases the pain.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
“That wasn’t me,” she says softly. “That was the peach moonshine.”
Vague memories start coming back.
Us sitting on the front porch, watching fireflies, drinking and talking. We were out there for hours, I think.
How many of those wicked drinks did I have?
“I’ve got some Excedrin right here on the nightstand with a bottle of water,” she says as her hand slides away and she stands up from the bed. The slight rocking causes a jolt of nausea to hit me. “Take those and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”
“What time is it?” I grumble as I come up on one elbow, my gaze sliding to the window to see it’s still dark outside before coming back to rest on Trixie.
And shit… how can she look that fresh and beautiful after drinking all night?
Her long hair has two braids, one hanging over each shoulder. She has on a pair of denim overalls with a white tank top underneath. Her eyes are bright, clear, and sparkling with humor. I know she drank as much as I did last night, but she doesn’t seem to be suffering.
“I think I’ll just go back to bed,” I say as I settle back onto the pillow.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she says as her hand shoots out. She whips the blanket and sheet off me.
“You said you wanted to go fishing this morning, so you’re going fishing.”
My hands make a grab for the covers but come up with nothing but air. I don’t even have the fortitude to care I’m sleeping in nothing but my boxer briefs, and besides… Trixie’s seen it all anyway.
Doesn’t stop her from looking though, I notice. Her eyes travel down my body and I do a quick peek to make sure I’m not sporting morning wood, but my hangover must have killed that embarrassment. Thankfully.
“I don’t want to go fishing,” I mumble.
Her eyes slide back up my body, and I swear I can feel the touch of her gaze over every inch of my skin which causes my body to reconsider morning wood when I see appreciation in those hazel irises.
For a glorious moment, my head doesn’t hurt.
“You’re going fishing,” she says adamantly. “You made a big deal about going last night, remember? If you don’t go, you’ll have to hear shit from my dad.”
I sift through my memories and groan. Her dad had joined us on the porch for a bit last night, drinking Wild Turkey on the rocks. He was actually treating me halfway decently.
I think.
Not sure.
Could have been the moonshine leading me astray.
But I do remember us discussing fishing, me admitting I’ve never been but wanted to try it, and then Trixie’s invitation to go with her and Pap early this morning.
Gerry Mancinkus had snorted and said, “No way that city boy will be up at the crack of dawn to go fishing after a night of Billy Crump’s peach moonshine.”
Billy Crump had apparently given a case of it—in tiny Mason jars—to Trixie as payment for a speeding ticket she’d handled for him.
I had enough liquor in me that I rose to the challenge. I told Trixie adamantly after draining the last of my current drink, “I’ll be up and ready to go at the crack of dawn.”
“Shit,” I groan as I rise and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My head swims, then pains shoot through it, and I swallow back the nausea. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Trixie puts her hand to the top of my head and ruffles my hair, which oddly doesn’t hurt. “That’s my boy. See you downstairs. Mom has biscuits and gravy ready for us.”
My stomach rolls, but I give her a smile. “Sounds yummy.”
About Juliette Poe:
Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett.
A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea.
When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.