The Hate Date
Kaylene Winter
Publication date: July 24th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

When a man who has everything & will do anything—including pole dancing—to redeem himself to the feisty woman who could care less about power or money.

Clover Callahan took my client’s money and I’m not going to stand for it.
I’m taking her down, and if I play my cards right, she won’t even see me coming.
Everything’s going exactly to plan…
Until an elevator malfunction has us trapped for an entire night. Alone.

I mean, she’s hot. I’m hot.
What did you expect was going to happen?

Yeah. It did. And it was spectacular.

I can admit, I was wrong about Clover—she’s all I think about.
Unfortunately, after what I did, she hates me and everything I stand for.
But I’m no quitter…I’ll wear her down.
With a proposition even she won’t refuse:

One night.
One date.
Don’t be late!!

The Hate Date is a sweltering, standalone, billionaire, enemies to lovers, age gap, forced proximity, workplace, HEA romance.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT

Prologue

I sink down into the oversized chair in my living room. Stare at my phone in disbelief.

What the actual fuck?

My heart thunders as I press the button to repeat the video. Call me a masochist. Call me an idiot. Call me devastated.

Call me anything you want, but I have to see it again.

Just to be sure.

Yep. It’s my bedroom. Yep. There he is. My husband, Harrison Finklestein splayed naked across the pure-white linens on our three-hundred-thousand-dollar Hästens Grand Vividus custom bed.

His cock is flush against his belly. His black-brown eyes widen as the camera gets nearer. He licks his lips. His thick, black eyebrows furrow. The camera pans down to his hand stroking his erection. Yuck.

When did the dark hair on his fingers get so visibly bushy?

“Stop fucking around, we don’t have much time,” Harrison snarls.

The angle changes abruptly. A shard of glass pierces my heart. There she is. My best friend since I moved to Los Angeles, Solange Brown, who pouts then smiles widely into the lens. Her pearly-white veneers gleam, reminding me of shark teeth. She holds her phone out wide so I get a good view of long, blonde extensions brushing against her perfectly round silicone double Ds. I watch her straddle my husband and impale herself on his bare cock.

Harrison groans, “Shit, Solly. Your pussy is like fuckin’ heaven.”

She giggles.

Then the screen goes black.

I toss my phone on the couch in anger. I want to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter.

I’m not stupid, though. No matter how much this hurts—and it fucking hurts so badly I can barely breathe—I can’t risk losing incriminating evidence. Because I’m divorcing my husband. No question. The ironclad prenup I signed is void if either of us cheats, so…

I stare out the window. Attempt to process. Try to come up with a plan. My brain is so jumbled, I have no idea how much time passes. All I know is at some point, despair takes over.

How could they do this to me? I trusted them both implicitly. Solange and I have been friends for so long. Harrison and I have been married for almost a decade. I’ve never detected an iota of attraction between them.

Or so I thought.

Omigod. I’m going to be sick.

The betrayal is overwhelming.

Tears stream down my face. How could Harrison have been sleeping with my best friend behind my back without me knowing about it? My mind whirls. Trying to figure out if I missed any of the signs.

God. I trusted her with him. Implicitly. I confided so much about our relationship to her.

Now, I feel so fucking stupid. Naïve.

Harrison has always been somewhat controlling. A bit of a pompous ass at times, sure. But in the decade we’ve been together I’ve never known him to be dishonest. The man prides himself on integrity.

Which is rich.

If I’m brutally honest with myself—which is important if I’m going to survive this—our story is a true Hollywood cliché.

By my early twenties, I’d been acting for a while and had some success dabbling in pop music. We met at one of my concerts. He was charming, rich, and fifteen years older than me. I got caught up in a whirlwind romance. Never, in my entire life, had someone focused their energy on me in that way.

It was intoxicating.

So, when he asked me to marry him and start a family, I said yes. A few months later, when he complained about my work schedule, I gave up my career. For him. So I could support him the way I thought he was supporting me.

It’s funny how the years sneak up on you. The kids never happened—he kept wanting to postpone “one more year” because I was still young. To keep from being bored, I immersed myself in charity work, which fulfilled me on many levels and kept me busy. We never fought. He always showered me with gifts and public displays of affection.

I wasn’t overwhelmingly happy, but I loved him and was content with my life.

Comfortable.

For the most part, I thought we had a decent relationship even if our love life has always been a bit—meh. Well, at least for me. He, on the other hand, bragged about my blow jobs to anyone who would listen, much to my embarrassment.

But, I guess that was a lie too.

Because it never, ever—not once—occurred to me that he’d cheat.

Oh God. This is really happening.

I take a deep breath. No matter how much this sucks, I’m no weakling. I can’t let them get away with this.

I won’t.

After I stop crying, I take a deep breath, wipe my tears and vow not to shed another tear for Harrison.

He doesn’t deserve my tears.

I get up. Grab my phone from the couch. Locate the video and save it to my private Dropbox. As a backup, I email it to myself. A girl can’t be too careful. 

Retreating into the bedroom, I open the safe and gather my jewelry and pack it in one of my small Louis Vuitton suitcases. I fill the rest of my luggage with designer clothes and shoes, my toiletries, cosmetics, and skincare products. Load my belongings into my Cayenne Turbo GT.

Next, I head into Harrison’s home office, log into our bank account and transfer five hundred thousand dollars into my personal account. I’m able to locate a folder of our important documents and upload copies into the Dropbox. It takes a while, but I’m patient. Diligent.

It feels good to take charge. I like being in charge.

Glancing at my phone, I see I’ve missed a text from my soon-to-be ex-husband reminding me to be ready for a dinner I’m supposed to attend. Apparently, he has some bigwig financiers he’s trying to woo for his next investment project.

Fuck that.

Let him take Solly.

Once I’ve taken care of business, I sit at the kitchen counter with a full glass of Harrison’s most-prized bottle of wine, a 2015 Hundred Acre Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve. I’m admiring the dark garnet color of two-thousand-dollar grapes swirling around in my crystal goblet when the door opens and footsteps approach.

“What the fuck, Clover?” Harrison stands before me with his hands on his hips. “You’re not ready? We’re going to be late.”

I casually grip the glass of wine and hold it out over the stone floor. “I’m not going.” I deliberately drop it and the fine crystal shatters in a puddle of red liquid.

Harrison storms over to me. “Are you crazy?”

“No. But, I think you are.“ I swipe the bottle with my arm, sending it crashing to the ground where it explodes.

Harrison looks horrified. “What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses.

”I know.“ My voice is quiet. Lethal.

He doesn’t get it. His face is red with anger. “Know what?”

“I know about you and Solange. I hope you have a happy life together because you and I are through.” I stare him dead in the eye. Cock my head.

Harrison wilts but recovers quickly. “Sweetheart, no. I’d never do that to you.” He reaches out to touch my arm.

I yank away from him, disgusted. “I don’t want to hear it. She recorded a video and sent it to me. I saw her riding your dick with my own eyes. There’s nothing you can say. I told you cheating was a hard no for me, and it still is.”

Harrison looks at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t do this to me. You’ll leave with nothing. You’re a lazy washed-up actress, one-hit wonder. I’m the best you’ll ever get.”

I laugh bitterly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Harrison.” My voice is cold as ice. “I was someone long before I met you and I’ll be just fine without you. This is your loss, not mine.”

With that, I hop off the stool, grab my purse and keys and walk out the door. Hurriedly jump in my car and head to the Chateau Mormont, where I’ve booked a suite for a month to sort out the mess of my life.

It’s not the first time I’ve had to pick up the pieces and start over.

But, after this latest debacle, I’m determined it’s going to be the last.

I’ll never play second fiddle to a man again. Especially one who is rich, powerful, and controlling. Arrogant, entitled assholes aren’t capable of truly loving someone. From what I’ve experienced, they expect you to drop every one of your own dreams to support theirs and thank them for the opportunity.

Never. Again.

God. I’m so done with him. With anyone like him.

I’m making some big changes. I’m not sure what I’m going to do or how I’m going to do it, but I’m giving myself one year to figure it out.

Author Bio:

When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.

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