Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Saints Like Him
By Aimee Nicole Walker

Redemption Ridge, Book 3

From ex-con to self-made millionaire, there’s no challenge too tough for Cash Sweeney to conquer. So why has he spent twelve years pining for his best friend instead of doing something about it? Because losing Nick would be like existing with half of his heart. Is it better to settle for what he can have or battle for what he wants?

Banged up and burned out, FBI Agent Nick Scott arrives at Redemption Ridge with a trunkful of luggage and a yearning heart. Cash is easy to love but hard to read, and Nick fears his epiphany has come too late. Does he tuck his tail and run or fight for the man who’s become his home?

Tender gestures and heartfelt conversations lead to thrilling revelations neither man can ignore. No more what-ifs or maybes. Cash and Nick are all in. And they’ll need each other more than ever when a devious enemy emerges from the shadows to put their promising future at risk. With the stakes so high, will the guys double down or fold to pressure?

Saints Like Him is book three in the Redemption Ridge series. Though each story features a different couple, reading the series in order is essential. Saints Like Him contains mature themes and is intended for adults.

Content Warning: homophobia, abuse, and conversion therapy are briefly discussed in this book, though no graphic descriptions are used.

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Excerpt:

Cash pursed his lips while studying the chip selection at the grocery store in Last Chance Creek. What snack was most suitable for a forty-nine-year-old man while bingeing the newest season of Heartstopper? Cash wasn’t one to use his age as a reason to avoid many things, but he wasn’t proud of his obsession with the series about queer teenagers and their first loves. Their vitality and innocence sometimes made him feel older than dirt, but mostly it made him grateful that a new generation could see themselves in the characters.

It was unlikely Cash’s life would’ve turned out differently if he’d had positive representation as a teen. He’d lost his mom to poverty and drugs and had gone to live with strangers at a time when he was figuring things out about himself. Cash hadn’t felt comfortable coming out, or letting others in, until he was thirty. He’d rebuilt his life from the ashes of his past and had been tired of living a lie. The penniless dirt track racer had to pretend, but the successful technology inventor did not. Cash had thought his newly gained wealth would insulate him from scrutiny and scorn, but it only perpetuated the narrative that he was an outsider who didn’t belong. But those closed doors and snubs didn’t deter him; they fueled the perpetual fire in his soul and made him richer.

He couldn’t think of a single hard knock he’d change because they’d all led him to this point. Well, maybe not to standing in a grocery store staring at the same bag of Fritos for a solid ten minutes. He meant his ranch, his people, and the journey he’d taken to have them in his life. Contentment didn’t negate his few regrets or warm his bed, but the one man who could fix both problems was across the country. Who the hell was he kidding? It wouldn’t have mattered if Nick was at Quantico, on Mars, or standing beside Cash. He was off-limits. Cash just needed to convince his foolish heart of that fact—a feat he hadn’t accomplished in twelve years. But had he really tried that hard?

A warm, masculine chuckle invaded his thoughts, and Cash jerked his head to find Seth Burke approaching him. He bit back a snort. Burke didn’t approach; he swaggered with big dick energy. The sheriff was a good five inches taller, a few years younger, and had the persistence of a bloodhound when it came to Cash. Burke’s uniform consisted of a pressed khaki shirt, dark denim jeans, boots, and a white Stetson hat. Cash wasn’t sure what shone brighter in the store’s overhead lights—the shiny sheriff star pinned to Burke’s shirt or his white, toothy grin. Damn, but the man was fine as hell with jet-black hair, gray eyes, and sun-kissed skin. No matter the time of day, that superhero square jaw was clean-shaven to show off his magnificent bone structure. Why the hell couldn’t Cash return the man’s interest? He could trade heartache for the kind of twinges and stings that left a man smiling instead of moping.

“What’d that bag of chips do to you?” Burke asked when he reached Cash. His voice was jovial, pure good ole boy, but the tension around Burke’s mouth betrayed him.

Cash snorted and faced his friend. “I was just lost in thought.” He glanced down and saw Burke had already placed several items in his basket. “I didn’t see your truck in the parking lot.”

A dark brow arched. “Or you would’ve kept driving?”

Cash sighed. “Of course not. I was just making conversation.”

“The inane kind you make when you’ve been avoiding your friend?” Burke pressed.

Were they friends? They met for lunch regularly at the diner and texted often, so definitely more friendly than acquaintances.

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