Just Released + Official Review! P.S. I Hate You by Winter Renshaw




 Dear Isaiah,

Eight months ago, you were just a soldier about to be deployed and I was just a waitress, sneaking you free pancakes and hoping you wouldn’t notice that my gaze was lingering a little too long.

But you did notice.

We spent a “week of Saturdays” together before you left, and we said goodbye on day eight, exchanging addresses at the last minute.

I saved every letter you ever sent, your words quickly becoming my religion.

But you went radio silent on me months ago, and then you had the audacity to walk into my diner yesterday and act like you’d never seen me in your life.

To think … I almost loved you and your beautifully complicated soul.


Whatever your reason is—I hope it’s a good one.

Maritza the Waitress

PS – I hate you, and this time … I mean it.



I received a copy and voluntarily left a review and all opinions are my own.

I couldn’t wait to embark on a new journey with a “new to me author”, so when I read the blurb to P.S. I Hate You, I was beyond intrigued and ready to step into this new fictional world by Winter Renshaw. From the moment I was introduced to Maritza and Isaiah, I was captivated by their whirlwind “no strings attached” romance and anxious to see what the future held for these two that are destined to be together despite miles that are between them.

Maritza Claiborne charmed me from the beginning with her optimistic, don’t play games persona. She is a heroine who I would love to meet in real life and get to know more about her upbeat personality and soft heart. But make no mistakes, she has a spine of steel and can still put Isaiah in his place when needed but she always saw the best in everyone which is a unique and fascinating combination that kept me wondering what she would say and do next. She is the sunshine to Isaiah’s moodiness and exactly what he needs to complement him and yet still push him to be a better man.

“I’m not trying to fall in love with you, Corporal,” she says. “I’m not trying to be your girlfriend. I just want to be..something..to you. I don’t even know what.” 

Isaiah Torres or “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Douche-y” as Maritza called him after their first meeting is a complicated man with many layers and darkness that surrounds him. He is a good man under all that stoicism but it takes a good woman like Maritza to see him for who he truly is underneath. He was the perfect blend of alpha-hole hero that had me wanting to throttle him at every turn or hold him close. I adore complicated characters that a reader falls for while shaking their head no and digging their heels in stubbornly along the way and Isaiah is that and so much more.

“This isn’t romantic and I’m not some Casanova trying to win her heart. I’m simply a man with needs, a man who’s been wanting to taste those lips over again since the night of The Mintz.” 

Winter Renshaw delivers a story with a week of Saturdays that have you falling madly in love right alongside the hero and heroine. I highly recommend P. S. I Hate You for a romance that gives us depth, meaning, and a realness that tears at our hearts, calls to our souls, and puts the pieces back together in ways we never expected. I look forward to reading many more stories by the talented Winter Renshaw and going on many many more journeys with her and her characters.

“As long as there are no flowers exchanged these next couple of days, no sweet words or careless whispers, no promises made and no looking at each other like we hung the moon..we should be fine and both of us should be able to walk away from this completely unscathed, not a single battle wound or commemorative scar.” 


There’s no denying something’s there, something that makes my heart trot when he looks at me, something that makes me slick on an extra coat of lip balm or an extra spritz of perfume before dashing out the door to meet him.
And while I’m the one who made the rules—no romance and only honesty at all times—I’m the one who can’t stop thinking about what would happen if we broke one of them.
Only problem is, I have zero idea if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. He’s so even-keeled and emotionally guarded, but they say actions speak louder than words and the fact that he’s here, spending time with me doing stupid shit has to count for something … right?
“Why are you staring like that?” Isaiah asks when he turns around.
My cheeks warm. I’d been spacing off. “No reason.”
“Bullshit. You can’t lie, remember? Tell me what you were thinking about.” His lips draw into a playful smirk, and I can’t decide if I like his mysterious side or his spirited side best. It’s like trying to choose between white chocolate and milk chocolate, which are both delicious in their own ways.
“You don’t want to know.”
And I’m serious. He doesn’t want to know that I’m thinking about him in a way that I was determined not to. Besides, he’s leaving in a few days. There’s no point in ruining the rest of our time together by making this situation unnecessarily complicated.
“Try me,” he says, his stare boring into me. Something tells me he’s not going to let this go.
Giving myself a moment, I gather my thoughts and nibble on my lower lip. “I was just thinking about connections.”
“Connections?” His hands rest on his hips, his shoulders parallel with mine. I have his full, undivided attention.
“I was just thinking about how I hardly know you, but I feel connected to you,” I say, cringing on the inside but fully embracing the discomfiture of this conversation.
He says nothing, which doesn’t make this moment any less awkward for the both of us.
“You asked!” I remind him, throwing my hands up.
Another moment passes, the two of us lingering next to some hairy elephant-looking creature with a long-as-hell scientific name as a group of children runs past us.
“Now I want to know what you’re thinking about.” I nudge his arm. “It’s only fair.”
He smirks, then it fades, and he gazes into the distance. It’s like there’s something on the tip of his tongue, but if I push or prod too much, he’ll never share it.
“Nothing, Maritza. I was thinking about nothing.”
I don’t buy it, but I don’t press any further. I want to burn this awkward moment into a pile of ash and move on.
“Are you going to remember me after this week?” I ask after a bout of silence.
His golden irises glint as his eyes narrow in my direction. “What kind of question is that?”
“A legit one,” I say. “Will you remember me? Or am I always just going to be that waitress girl that you hung out with for a week?”
“Don’t think I could forget you if I tried.” He speaks in such a way that I’m not sure if what he’s saying is a good thing or a bad thing. “Can I be honest right now?”
“You must. It’s a requirement.”
Isaiah’s tongue grazes his full lips for a quick second and he holds my gaze for what feels like forever. “I don’t want to make this any more confusing for either of us, but I feel like kissing you right now.”
I fight a smile. I don’t want to smile. I want to scoff at him and tell him to stop being such a hypocrite.
But that’s only half of me.
The other half of me wants him to kiss me, wants his hands in my hair and his taste on my tongue just one more time because we’ll never have this moment again and once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.




Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

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