The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  The

  Gritty

  Truth

  The Whiskeys

  Melissa Foster

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  THE GRITTY TRUTH

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2020 Melissa Foster

  V1.0

  9.16.20

  Google Play Edition

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey Designs

  Cover Photography: Michelle Lancaster

  WORLD LITERARY PRESS

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  A Note to Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ready for More Whiskeys?

  Meet the Colorado Whiskeys at Redemption Ranch

  Get ready to fall hard for the Wickeds!

  Bonus Content for The Gritty Truth

  Love Melissa’s Writing?

  More Books By Melissa Foster

  Acknowledgments

  Meet Melissa

  A Note to Readers

  If this is your first introduction to the Whiskeys series, each book is written to stand alone, so dive right in and fall in love with Quincy and Roni.

  Ever since writing TRU BLUE, I have been anxiously awaiting the proper time to write Quincy’s love story. I always wait until my heroes and heroines tell me when they are ready for their happily ever after. Quincy didn’t whisper in my ear when he met Veronica “Roni” Wescott. He hollered, refusing to be ignored. Their love is too strong to be destroyed, but grab the tissues, because this book will tear you apart, and just when you think you’ve read all you can handle, it’ll hit you again. But I promise to put you back together with true romance, hard-core love, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after.

  Out of this epic love story came two unexpected stories: IN FOR A PENNY, a novella featuring Penny Wilson and Scott Beckley (and Bones and Sarah’s wedding!) and RESISTING JON BUTTERSCOTCH, a second-chance romance featuring everyone’s favorite flirt, fifty-shades-of-sweetness Jon Butterscotch and Tatum Helms, whom you’ll meet in Quincy’s book. Information about Penny’s novella is included at the back of this book. Keep your eyes peeled for information about Jon’s story. Remember to bookmark my new and upcoming release page.

  www.MelissaFoster.com/new-and-upcoming-releases

  You can download the Whiskey/Wicked family tree here:

  www.MelissaFoster.com/Wicked-Whiskey-Family-Tree

  See more of The Whiskeys books here:

  www.MelissaFoster.com/TheWhiskeys

  Remember to sign up for my newsletter to make sure you don’t miss out on future Whiskey releases:

  www.MelissaFoster.com/News

  For more information about my fun and emotional sexy romances, all of which can be read as stand-alone novels or as part of the larger series, visit my website:

  www.MelissaFoster.com

  If you prefer sweet romance with no explicit scenes or graphic language, please try the Sweet with Heat series written under my pen name, Addison Cole. You’ll find many great love stories with toned-down heat levels.

  Happy reading!

  ~ Melissa

  Chapter One

  THE RHYTHM OF Beyoncé’s “Halo” flowed through dance instructor Veronica “Roni” Wescott as she spun and leaped across the room at On Your Toes dance studio. The sight of Quincy Gritt’s name on a text message had sent her body into an exhilarating flurry of desire, and she’d needed to try to get a grip before eight adorable little girls bounced into the studio for their class. Roni was acutely aware of her jerky movements, and pushed herself harder, striving for the perfection she knew she could never again achieve in the same way she knew there was not enough music on the planet to obliterate thoughts of the blue-eyed Charlie Hunnam lookalike. But she had to try. Drawing upon the tricks she’d learned when she was younger and navigating the derelict-ridden streets of her neighborhood, she forced herself to focus on the goal, not the noise in her head. She gave herself over to the music, allowing it to pull her through the contemporary dance she loved, pushing away the ache of shattered dreams and muffling thoughts of the man whose friendship and flirtatious texts kept her up at night. When the final crescendo rang out, she slid to the floor on her side, lowering her cheek to the smooth wood, and closed her eyes.

  “Bravo!”

  Roni’s eyes flew open when she heard the voice of her best friend and fellow dance instructor, Angela Keiser. They’d been friends since third grade, when they’d met in a dance class at that very studio.

  “Girl, you are killing it,” Angela said as she strolled into the room in her white dance skirt and a midriff-baring top. Her long blond hair was braided and coiled into a bun at the top of her head, like a modern-day Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie. Half of their best-friends necklace twinkled around her neck, as always.

  “Thanks. Is your class over?” Roni pushed to her feet and grabbed a towel to blot her face.

  “Yup. I’m heading out in a few minutes, but I have to say this, and I know you’re sick of hearing it. You really need to dance in the Winter Showcase, and no, Elisa did not put me up to convincing you.”

  Elisa Abbot owned the studio, and Roni had taken dance lessons from her since she was five years old, until a few years ago. Three times a year Elisa held productions, or showcases, in which students and teachers performed for the community. Elisa had been all over Roni about dancing in the Winter Showcase, which was taking place at the end of January. When Roni was growing up, she had danced her heart out for those events, and danced solo more often than not. But thanks to a freak car accident, her days of rising to the top of any production were gone.

  “Pfft. No, thank you,” Roni said as her phone chimed like a traitorous secret teller, reminding her that she had a text from Quincy waiting to be read.

  “You’re way too good a dancer to hide away in here.” Angela eyed Roni’s phone on the table and said, “And too damn hot to keep hiding from Quincy.”

  “I’m not hiding from anything or anyone.” Roni pushed past her and snagged her phone.

  “No?” Angela crossed her arms with a challenging expression and said, “So that lingering text is not from Loverboy?”

  “I told you to stop calling him that.” Thankfully, Angela didn’t call hi
m that when he occasionally came to pick up his niece, Kennedy, from Roni’s dance class, which Kennedy had started attending in September.

  Angela knew her so well. She had been the one to drag Roni to the charity bachelor auction at Whiskey Bro’s bar five months ago, and she had won the date with Quincy specifically for Roni, despite Roni having begged her not to. Though now Roni wasn’t altogether sorry her bestie had done it.

  “And I told you to stop being ridiculous and go out with the guy,” Angela insisted. “You guys text all the time anyway.”

  “No, we don’t. We text sometimes, and we don’t talk about anything deep. He flirts and asks how my day was. We talk about dance and his job at the bookstore, our favorite foods, and shows we’re bingeing, and sometimes we send funny pictures to each other. I don’t know anything real about him.”

  She’d been thinking about that a lot lately, curious about who he really was and why he was okay keeping their conversations light and flirty, when most guys would have pushed harder, then given up. Sure, Quincy had tried to get her to go out with him at first. Angela had won him for Roni for that purpose, after all. But when she’d said she was too busy to date, he hadn’t pushed, and when her grandmother had passed away over the summer and she’d said she wanted to grieve alone, he’d given her time to do so. He’d texted more often to make sure she was okay, but he had never pried into her life, which she’d appreciated. Then last Friday, he’d texted about going out after Halloween, I think it’s time we take our masks off and get to know each other better, and now she was as nervous as she was excited about that idea.

  “Sure you do,” Angela said. “You know he’s smart and hot as hell, and we’ve both seen how sweet he is with his niece. We also know he never reacts when the moms gawk at him because he’s too busy paying attention to the kids or you. He’s obviously a good guy, Roni, and I bet he’s all kinds of bad in bed.”

  “Ohmygod. I’m sure Joey appreciates you noticing that.” Angela was engaged to Joey Carbo, the co-owner of Jazzy Joe’s café, where Angela and Roni often had lunch. They’d been eyeing each other for months before he’d finally asked her out, a little more than a year ago.

  “Please. Joey doesn’t get jealous. He knows I’m madly in love with him. Just tell me why you won’t go out with Quincy. We paid a thousand dollars for you to win that date with him.”

  “Had I known that the reason you brought all your friends with us to the auction was that they’d pitched in toward buying me a date, I never would have gone,” Roni said. “And I told you not to spend that money on him.”

  “It was for charity,” Angela said.

  Roni glowered at her. “Now I’m charity?”

  “No. The event was for charity, silly. You’re my sister from another mother, Roni, and I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” she said halfheartedly.

  “Sort of. But you’ve seemed lonely since your grandmother died, and I’m with Joey all the time, so we don’t get to hang out as often anymore.”

  Roni was lonelier without her grandmother. She had no idea who her mother was, and her father had taken off when she was four, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. And with her grandmother’s support, she’d spent her whole life preparing for a career as a professional dancer and had even made it through Juilliard. She’d been on her way to the future she’d always dreamed of when the accident had stolen it out from under her, taking with it the only group in which she’d ever felt like she belonged. But at least she’d still had her grandmother, and a place in her life. When her grandmother died, Roni had been left feeling adrift in a world she knew very little about outside of dance.

  “I know you’re close with Elisa, but it’s different with a guy,” Angela said in a softer tone. “Life is better when you have someone you care about to share it with. The fact that Quincy respected your need for space when you were grieving but found ways to let you know he was there for you should tell you the type of guy he is. And for the record, I still think you should have let him come over to comfort you during that time instead of holing up in your apartment alone.”

  “I could barely deal with it,” Roni reminded her. “I needed time to grieve, not pressure to be funny or sexy for a guy.” The truth was, she’d poured her grief into dancing late at night when no one else was around, and Quincy’s texts had been a bright light during her darkest days. His texts had always been thoughtful, but during that time he’d taken extra care to ask about how she was feeling and if she needed anything.

  “I get that, Roni, but I worry about you. That’s why I won the date with Quincy for you in the first place. You’ve had so much happen over the past few years, and you’re wasting away in this studio. You literally come downstairs from your apartment, and you’re in the studio until you go back upstairs after work.”

  “Sometimes you and I go out to get lunch,” Roni said, but it sounded pathetic, even to her, and totally worthy of Angela’s eye roll.

  “Come on. You’re the prettiest, smartest, and most talented person I have ever met, and we both know you’ll never go out and meet a guy on your own. You should thank me for handpicking him for you.”

  “I never asked you to do that, and I don’t need a man to be happy.”

  “I know you don’t, but I’ve known you forever, and I’ve never seen you react to any guy the way you do to Quincy. Everyone saw the way you locked eyes on each other when he was walking through the room before the auction. When he strolled up to the table and set those sexy blue eyes on you, you grabbed the edge of your seat like a lifeline.”

  Roni’s pulse quickened with the memory. Her body had gone white-hot, vibrating with unfamiliar exhilaration. The only time she’d ever felt anything that powerful was when she danced.

  “I gotta tell ya, Roni, I worry that the car that hit you might have broken more than just your bones. I think it knocked your hormones out of whack, too. If I were you, I’d be all over him.”

  Laughter bubbled out, and Roni said, “My hormones are fine, as proven by the way his texts make my heart race. I swear, one glance from him, even after all these months, gives me butterflies. What the heck is that all about?”

  “It’s called chemistry.”

  Roni scoffed. “That level of chemistry is way out of my league. The guy exudes testosterone with his tatted-up arms and scruffy jaw that says he can’t be bothered to shave more than once every couple of weeks. Then there’s his light-brown hair brushing his collar, making you want to grab hold of it, and…” Her hands fisted, itching to do just that. She loved his hair. “And he’s got some kind of dark, passionate thing brewing in his eyes. You’ve seen it. I have no idea what that is. He looks a little haunted and guarded, but also daring, which is super confusing. Not to mention the way he asks after me all sweet and charming like he’s not really pursuing me, meanwhile he’s building a friendship that’s bursting at the seams to be more.”

  “I know plenty of girls who would let him charm their panties off,” Angela said with a giggle.

  “No kidding, Angela. That’s the problem. When that text first rolled in, before I tried to dance off my nervousness, I was this close to telling him I’d go out with him. But then I remembered that the minute he looks at me, my body heats up and my brain turns me into a sex-craved maniac. I’m afraid to talk to him because of all the X-rated thoughts he sends spinning in my head.” Heat skated over her skin, bringing rise to goose bumps. She thrust her arm out and said, “Look. That’s from just talking about him. See why I can’t go out with him?”

  Angela laughed. “You do realize that you keep talking about things that most women would give anything to find.”

  “Yeah, well, in case you’ve forgotten, most twenty-four-year-olds have a lot more experience carrying out all those dirty thoughts than I do.”

  Angela’s expression softened. “Roni, I know you’re self-conscious about your scars, but you’ve got to start somewhere. What if he’s the right person to help you find your
way through those dirty thoughts?”

  “It’s not about my scars. I mean, I’m not going to be thrilled about any guy seeing them, but…” She lowered her voice and said, “He’s a whole lot of man for a girl like me, who’s only been with one guy. And that was short-lived, so it’s not like we did all that good stuff you talk about.” She’d gone out with a guy a few times when she was at Juilliard, and she’d slept with him just to get it over with, because she was the only virgin she’d known, and she was curious. The first time had sucked. The next few times had been okay, but nothing to write home about. She sighed and said, “You have to remember, Ang, I’ve lived and breathed dance my whole life. While you were out dating, I was here practicing. When you were going to prom, I was here, preparing for the Summer Showcase.”

  “I know, and it paid off big time,” Angela reminded her. “But I think you forget that you’re a whole lot of woman and you can handle anything. I’m not saying you have to sleep with him or even get serious. But he made it clear on Halloween that he wants to take whatever this is between you two to the next level. Go on one date with him. Give him—and yourself—a chance to get to know each other better. The fact that you’ve maintained a friendship all this time tells me how compatible you are.”

  “Like I said, I was really close to saying I’d go out with him.”

  Angela motioned toward Roni’s phone and said, “And yet you haven’t even read his text. Don’t you think you should?”

  “Might as well. My body is already throwing a party.” She opened his text, and they both read it. Hey, beautiful. Missed you last weekend. I’ve got a few nights this week with your name on them. Hit me up so we can connect. She melted a little inside every time he called her beautiful.

  Angela sighed. “He asked you out last weekend? What was your excuse? Cleaning your grout with a toothbrush?”

  “He texted over the weekend and asked me to go for a ride on his motorcycle. But I’ve never been on a motorcycle, which made me nervous to start with, and the idea of holding on to him for dear life was too much to handle. I said I had to shampoo my carpets.”