I received this book for free from Author in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
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Released: April 12, 2016
Series: Rugby #2
“Definitely one that left me with a big smile on my face and a new addition to my book boyfriend dungeon.”
~ Under the Covers
We are doing a joint review for this book, I would like to say this was because we both love both the authors and were dying to read the book, which is true, however, the slap fights, hair pulling and eye scratching over who would read and review the book, well it wasn’t pretty. And, so we didn’t once again put our bonds of friendship to the test, Francesca and I (Suzanne) decided it is best if we did a joint review.
What made you pick this book up?
How does it compare to book 1 in the series?
Suzanne: I enjoyed the first book in this series The Hermit and the Hooker, but for me, I liked this one a bit more. I feel like it flowed a lot more smoothly, I couldn’t put it down, I think I read it in one sitting. Which, I admit is not unusual for me when we are talking about a book written by Cosway and Reid, but I think this book definitely had an edge.
What was your favorite scene in this book?
Suzanne: Without giving the game away, I don’t want to spoil if for those who haven’t managed to read it yet, but I loved the scene where Sean talks about his…prowess…in bed. It’s certainly something you don’t normally see in a romance book, but one that made this book stand out.
Suzanne: Lucy! As much as I love the hero, Sean, I had a bigger soft spot for our heroine Lucy. I can’t resist a good heroine and she was great, funny, smart a wee bit loony, all the things I adore in my leading lady.
If you had to recommend this book in 140 characters or less what would you say?
Suzanne: Player with unexpected bedroom skills meets his rainbow haired match. Enjoy the fireworks!
Francesca: Sometimes teaching them is the best part! Cocky rugby player meets pixie with unexpected habit.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
Requests, things I wanted, words I would never speak or allow myself to think were now uncontainable.
It’s the sex, I reiterated. Again. I’d used this explanation, now on repeat, as a simple justification for the complex cacophony of my mind.
“Be with you?” Her long, dark lashes fluttered, beating like distressed butterfly wings against warming pink cheeks.
I licked my lips, tasting her there. “Yes.”
She stared at me, confused. I was also confused. And oddly frightened.
Because it wasn’t the sex.
Several seconds ticked on as we studied each other in breathless silence. She found her voice before I did. “What does that—”
“Lucy?” Annie’s voice was paired with a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to whisper a clarification to the question Lucy hadn’t quite posed, because I was compelled to tell her it wasn’t the sex. We didn’t have to have sex. We could just . . . talk. Or play cards. Or touch. Or look at each other from across the room.
We could merely be together.
But she covered my mouth with her hand. Her features arrested with unmistakable panic.
“Yes. I’m fine! I just . . . started my period is all. Made a mess in my jeans, like a crime scene.” Lucy hollered in response then grimaced. She immediately mouthed I’m sorry to me. Her cheeks flushed red.
I lifted an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, ducking her head with obvious embarrassment. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh.
Issuing me a quelling look, Lucy released me and skittered out of the stall, whispering, “Stay here and count to three hundred.”
“Oh! Do you need anything?” Annie’s voice was less muffled and I surmised she’d opened the bathroom door.
“Ah, no. Have it all sorted now. Thank God Tom has these nice absorbent napkins instead of those troublesome hand driers. Although I feel like I’m wearing a nappy. They’re bad for the environment, so I should talk to him about replacing the napkins. Maybe make a few available for emergencies . . .”
Lucy’s anxiety-riddled chatter faded as the bathroom door clicked shut.
I released an audible exhale. My heart was beating as though it might leap from my chest. I needed to catch my breath. Neither had anything to do with being caught.
What the fuck were you doing?
It was the sex. She’s phenomenal in bed. You’ve never had that before. It was just sex.
I nodded, reiterating the logic of my justification for the uncharacteristic behavior. If I repeated it enough, perhaps I would believe it.
I didn’t count to three hundred as instructed. I counted to one hundred and twenty-three, then realized what I was doing.
“You’re mad, Sean,” I muttered, shaking myself and promptly leaving the ladies’ room. I checked the cufflinks on my dress shirt—a nervous habit—and strolled back to the table, eyeing the assortment of eejits gathered.
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