Genres: Contemporary Romance
Author: Stacy Kestwick
Release Date: Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Traditions are important. Especially in the South.
College football. Rivalries. Tailgating. Halftime shows.
Some things just don’t change.
Until Reese Holland shows up with her long legs and no-bull***t attitude to audition for the prestigious all-male Rodner University snare line.
It doesn’t matter how much hazing she has to endure from Laird Bronson, with his narrowed green eyes and arrogant smirk. She wants that damn spot, and she’s more than good enough to earn it.
She expects there to be tension. Even friction.
But not sparks hot enough to burn the entire campus down.
Who doesn’t love a drummer boy? Shoot, I love them (even married one). So you can probably guess why I was salivating and trying to get my hands on this book! Kestwick certainly delivered on the fun, snark, comic relief, and love story.
Laird and Reese have incredible chemistry. Like “need-to-make-a-pit-stop-to-release-the-poison-before-practice” type of intensity. Laird may be a top dog as the captain on the line, but he’s reduced to a horny teenager at the mere sight of Reese – and I LOVE IT. I couldn’t flip through my kindle fast enough to see how these two would face off or connect.
Of course, there are some plot twists and requisite drama which the characters handle wonderfully. I love Reese’s grit and determination to show that is worth being on the line – especially in difficult situations. Laird certainly rises to the occasion to once again show why we love him so much.
I loved the story, their evolutions toward each other, and being able to fall in love with a drummer again. Thanks, Stacy!
Read Chapter 1 Now:
He devoured me.
Being eaten alive had never felt so good.
His lips. His hands. His heat. My entire being was overwhelmed by him finally, finally touching me.
The kiss started hard, desperate, the inevitable conclusion to the tension that had been building between us for two weeks. With my eyes closed and my breasts flattened against the wall of his chest, I gave into it, surrendered to the moment. My mouth clung to his as he tilted my head to the side, changing the angle to deepen the contact.
His hands moved over me restlessly, hungrily, skimming down my back on the way to my ass, then back up my sides to frame my face, his fingers leaving a trail of heat behind on every inch of skin he claimed for himself. I pulled at his shirt while he pushed me against the solidness of the door. My heart tripped over itself in its race to keep up. Muffled sounds came from both of us, vibrating in our throats but not escaping our lips because we hadn’t even parted for a breath yet.
Who needed fucking air when Laird Bronson was kissing them? Not me.
His lips were somehow firm and soft at the same time as he slanted them over me again and again. It was like being called up to the major league from the minors. Nothing in my past compared. I shivered from the intensity of it, from the innate authority of his mouth as he consumed me. Like I was made to bend to him, as inevitable as the moon ceding to the sun.
I lifted on my tiptoes to get closer, one of my hands snaking up to tangle in his dark hair. The strands were barely long enough at the top to grip, and when I gave them a tug, he rolled his hips against me, showing me just how much he liked it. I moaned and felt an answering wetness gather at the juncture of my thighs.
Dear sweet rosy-cheeked baby Jesus and all the saints in heaven.
His mouth needed to come with a warning label. Danger. Highly flammable.
But it was too late. I’d had a taste and I liked the burn.
USA TODAY Bestseller Stacy Kestwick is a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. Her perfect day would include puppies, carbohydrates, and lounging on a hammock with a good book. No adulting, cleaning, or bacon allowed.
Where to Find Stacy
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