Kisses Sweeter than Wine

By Jess Dee

Declan called off his wedding after acknowledging he liked both women and men—well, one man in particular. His friend and partner, Noah. Caught up in guilt after breaking his fiancé’s heart and almost ruining his relationship and partnership with Noah, Declan’s been so preoccupied with living the life he’s expected to lead, he’s ignored his heart…and other organs.

Noah has waited long enough for Declan to accept they were meant to be together. He’s taken the situation into his own hands and dragged Declan to the Hunter Valley. And he’s invited Violet to join them at a luxury vineyard hotel under the guise of a working weekend to introduce her Declan.

Convincing the man he loves and the beguiling woman with honey-gold hair to consider his proposal is going to be tough, but Noah is ready to take them both on and make sure they all come out on top…at least once.

Each story in the Days of Wine and Roses Series is standalone story that can be enjoyed in any order.
Series Order:
Novella #1: Summer Wine
Book #2: Red Red Wine
Book #3: Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jul 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640630345

Book preview

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Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

Days of Wine and Roses Series

Jess Dee

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Jess Dee. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 105,

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Scorched is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Jennifer Miller

Cover design by Fiona Jayde, Fiona Jayde Media

Cover art from Hot Damn Designs

eBook ISBN 9781640630345

paperback ISBN 9781548259990

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition November 2014

Re-release July 2017

Table of Contents

Dedication

With Thanks

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

About the Author

Discover the rest of the Days of Wine and Roses series…

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Tropical Sin

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The List

Private Reserve

This book is dedicated to Jennifer Miller.

Jennifer, can you believe Kisses Sweeter Than Wine is our 20th book together?

The journey has been an absolute pleasure. I look forward to working with you on another 20 books—at least.

To Heidi and Entangled Publishing - thank you for bringing readers back to Rolling Hills.

With Thanks

To Fedora and Kitty Kelly. For your endless time and invaluable thoughts.

Chapter One

The knot in Declan Muirfield’s stomach tightened as the Jeep Cherokee chewed up mile upon mile of road. Coming back here was a bad idea. He should never have agreed to Noah’s suggestion. It didn’t matter how close the Hunter Valley was to Sydney. They could have chosen numerous other places this weekend. But Noah—with his fast tongue and smooth talking—had made this seem like the obvious destination.

Like he had six months ago, Declan stared listlessly out the window, wishing he were anywhere but here. Six months ago, he’d left, with Noah’s help. Now, he was trapped, thanks to the same man.

Any remaining sense of calm evaporated the instant he saw the sign—Rolling Hills Vineyard and Boutique Hotel. When Noah slowed and flicked on his indicator, the knot constricted savagely, like a snake had crawled through his gut and pierced his insides with venom.

Noah had chosen this hotel, of all places?

When Declan finally found his voice, it emerged in a hoarse whisper. Are you out of your mind?

Noah didn’t respond. He simply took a right, steering the Jeep up a long, narrow road surrounded on both sides by row upon row of grapevines. Under any other circumstance, Declan would have taken a moment to appreciate their beauty. The branches were covered in new leaves, as though life had begun afresh in the Hunter. But the light and delicate green of the spring foliage did not match Declan’s dark, depressed thoughts in any way.

Noah wound down his window, letting the country air waft in. The warm breeze filled the car with an earthy scent. Noah inhaled audibly but Declan couldn’t breathe. Not when his wounds had been submerged in salt water.

Is this a joke? Coming to the Hunter Valley was one thing. Coming back to the place where his life had changed irrevocably? Unthinkable. Declan had never imagined Noah would ever contemplate it. He’d assumed they’d be checking in to a different hotel.

Noah’s response was to whistle in time to a tune on the radio Declan couldn’t identify.

It took a good few seconds before he realized his senses had stopped functioning properly. White noise buzzed in his ears, drowning out the song and the whistling. The warm scent that filled his nose had turned stale, and his mouth tasted bitter.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time—but then Declan hadn’t experienced much of anything in a long time. Now his fight-or-flight response was kicking in.

Understandable. His body was gearing up to get the hell out of there.

Unfortunately, sitting in Noah’s Jeep meant he was trapped, so flight wasn’t an option.

He should have brought his own car. If he’d driven, he could turn around and head straight back home. Pretend this trip had never happened and wipe all memory of the place clean away.

Yeah, right. The last time he’d tried to wipe clean the memories of this hotel, he’d failed. Chances were zero he’d have better luck this time.

Declan’s heart rate increased. His breath came in short, quick bursts. Here he was, back in the last place he’d ever choose to be, with no option of leaving.

The dense, depressing fog that had surrounded him for six months shifted slowly, making way for a more ominous emotion. Anger rose from the depths of the darkness.

The rage surprised him. Lately, he hadn’t felt much of anything but grief. A grief he had no right to feel. Not when it was his decision to give up the future he’d believed he wanted.

Declan chose to quell the anger in the black pit of his despair. But it refused to remain buried. With every meter of road the car devoured, bringing him closer to the scene of his crime, his fury increased.

How the fuck could Noah—his best friend, his business partner—think it was okay to come back here?

Fuck him. Declan refused to accept it. If flight wasn’t an option—and Noah had ensured it wouldn’t be—Declan would stay and fight. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The sight of the glass-and-wood building up ahead had him clicking his jaw. The hotel looked exactly like it had last time he’d been here. An architectural masterpiece blending perfectly into its surroundings. It was here Declan had broken a woman’s heart and destroyed his own life in the process.

What in God’s name had Noah been thinking? If anyone understood the ramifications of being back, it was Noah. He’d booked the plane ticket so Declan could escape last time. He’d been the one to show Declan that following through on his plans would have destroyed not one life, but two. And now he’d driven him straight back here.

It made no sense.

Declan clenched his right hand into a fist, his clipped nails digging into his palm. He waited, biding his time while Noah pulled into the car park and climbed from the Jeep. Fed by months of inertia, Declan’s rage grew.

Noah took a minute to breathe deeply—if the heaving of his massive chest was any indication—before he popped the boot.

Declan took advantage of Noah’s distraction and shouldered his door open.

He threw the punch without a second thought, every instinct focused on ensuring his fist connected with Noah’s jaw. Hard. The satisfying crunch of shattering bone would be the only means of quashing the violent inner storm Noah had ignited.

The blow never found its target.

Before his knuckles met flesh and bone, Declan’s arm was twisted behind his back, and his chest and the front of his thighs were shoved up against the car.

Noah hemmed him in, pressing his body against Declan’s back.

That, Noah said in a low growl, is the second, and the last, time you take a swing at me. Are we clear?

The last time he’d thrown a punch Noah’s way had been the day before Declan had headed out to the Hunter Valley—for his wedding. The same day Noah had challenged him about the wisdom of getting hitched.

As shit, Declan hissed, frustration whistling through his veins. His ribs were jammed against the back door, making breathing difficult.

Height was the only physical advantage Declan had over Noah. His partner, though shorter than him, was almost six feet of solid muscle and built like the boxer he was. The man had biceps bulging out of his biceps. Taking a shot at him was probably one of the stupider decisions of Declan’s life, but, hey, desperate measures and all.

His only regret was missing.

Noah leaned in harder, and this time Declan’s shortness of breath had less to do with diminished lung capacity and a whole lot more to do with the sparks of awareness that shot through him.

He cursed the sparks as vigorously as he cursed Noah.

You going to behave if I let you go? Noah’s warm breath tickled over Declan’s neck, making him want to hit the man even harder than before.

You going to get me the fuck out of here?

Now why would I want to do that?

Oh, I don’t know. Because I hate this place and everything it represents?

Noah’s hold softened marginally. Enough that Declan could fill his lungs. Not sure what there is to hate about it. It’s a nice hotel, as far as I can tell. And the air out here’s as fresh as it gets.

Declan bristled, the muscles in his jaw and shoulders turning rigid.

Makes a man want to take stock of his life, Noah continued, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. As though he weren’t wedged up against Declan’s back, Declan’s fist held securely in his own. Work out what’s important and what’s not. Establish what’s worth fighting for and what’s worth walking away from.

Noah’s words rubbed Declan the wrong way. He’d done what Noah said the last time he was here. Walked away after taking stock of his life and realizing some things weren’t worth fighting for.

Or maybe, just maybe, Declan was pissed off because he should have stayed and fought—for his fiancée and for his wedding.

At the time, walking away had seemed like the right decision. But if it had been, why had Declan spent the six months since feeling like the world’s greatest failure? Why hadn’t he gotten on with his life? Gone ahead and conquered the world?

All it’s taken is a couple of minutes breathing in this air, and I already know what’s important. Noah’s grip on his hand eased, but the freedom did not give Declan the chance to break free. If anything, he was utterly paralyzed, unable to do anything more than inhale—and although Noah had eased the pressure on his chest, even that ability was in question once again.

Pushed up against Declan’s ass was the very notable impression of Noah’s erection. An impression Noah had not shared with him for a very, very long time.

It stripped his head clear of thought.

For interminable seconds it was all Declan could focus on. And damned if it didn’t send a rush of blood straight to his own dick.

Now the breath that rasped over his neck was less an irritation and more a weapon of torture. It sent prickles down his spine, making him want to crawl out of his skin. But then Declan had pretty much wanted to crawl out of his own skin ever since he’d discovered a hard dick did as much for him as a wet pussy. And when the hard dick belonged to Noah Martin, Declan was well and truly fucked—in every sense of the word.

The country air give you a hard-on, asshole?

Noah’s low laugh reverberated across Declan’s back. We both know the country air had nothing to do with my current state of arousal.

So what then? A physical attack turns you on?

Dec. Noah must have leaned in close because his breath now whispered over Declan’s ear, raising goose bumps on his neck. It’s time to stop running from yourself, mate.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Between being stuck at this hotel and being stuck against a car with Noah’s erection wedged against his ass, Declan was drowning.

Emotions roiled in his gut. Anger and rage might be the most easily identifiable, but others churned there too. Irritation, confusion, frustration, helplessness, desire.

Declan welcomed the rest, but the desire… Damn, the desire screwed with his head. And with his life. It always had.

Just what it sounds like. Noah’s deep rumble of a voice echoed through his ear. Stop running, Dec. It isn’t getting you anyplace you want to be.

Oh, and you know where I want to be? Christ, if he didn’t know where he wanted to be, how the fuck could Noah?

Noah rolled his hips, grinding his dick harder against Declan’s ass. "I know where I want to be. Now I’m waiting for you to realize it’s the same place you want to be."

You expecting divine intervention?

No. Noah sighed behind him. I’m hoping you’ll realize everything you need is right in front of you. All you have to do is show enough muscle to grab on to it.

Fuck you, Martin. They’d hashed this scenario out three years ago. There was absolutely no need to revisit it now. And there was definitely no need to revisit it here, of all places.

Yep. Noah nodded. Declan felt it in the movement of Noah’s head so close to his ear. That’s it exactly, Dec. Fuck me. Quit slinging insults my way and start remembering that fucking me is what makes you happy.

With that, the motherfucker bit Declan’s ear. He leaned in, took his earlobe between his teeth and nipped. Hard enough to send a dart of lust shooting through Declan’s groin.

Then he stepped back, freeing Declan from the prison of his body.

Damn. Noah gave a self-deprecating laugh as he rounded the car for a second time and reached into the boot. I hate walking with a hard-on. Gonna need a minute before I’m presentable enough to head inside.

He tugged Declan’s bag out and tossed it in his direction.

Declan let it drop at his feet. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. His own erection thumped in his jeans, pressing painfully against the zip.

Noah then removed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He placed the two computer bags over his other shoulder, closed the boot and once again turned to survey the scenery. His chest heaved in time with the slow, audible breaths he took. A couple moments later, he nodded as though satisfied with his progress. It’s pretty out here. Pretty enough to make me believe anything’s possible.

With that, he set off