A Kiss for A Kiss, an all-new surprise baby, mature adult romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is available now!
I’m Jake Masterson, single dad, and the General Manager of Seattle’s NHL team. I walked away from a career as a player so I could raise my daughter. For the last twenty-plus years, Queenie has been my main priority, but now she’s getting married.
And there’s a small complication.
A beautiful, sexy complication named Hanna.
She’s my son-in-law’s older sister. Or at least that’s how they were raised. The truth is a little more scandalous than that.
I’ve been drawn to her from the moment I laid eyes on her. And I spent months trying to keep a lid on that attraction.
Until we finally give in.
It starts with one searing kiss, but quickly ends with us between the sheets—and in the shower, and the hot tub, you get the picture—and turns into months of sneaking around.
Here’s the problem: we live on opposite ends of the country. It can’t be anything but casual. And as I’ve already said…it’s complicated.
But when Hanna finds out she’s pregnant…suddenly things get real serious.
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Excerpt
“You’re trouble tonight, aren’t you?” Her fingertips dance along my traps as she brushes past me. “And yes, to answer your question, I did, in fact, bring the red bikini.”
She disappears down the hall to the spare bedroom, where she’s sleeping tonight. Because I invited her to stay at my place this weekend rather than at King’s. It’s not that she isn’t welcome there. It’s more that she wants them to have their privacy. It also means I get more time with Hanna, so it’s a win all the way around. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking a lot about time alone with her this weekend.
I change into my swim trunks, pour myself a scotch, heavy on the rocks, and her a glass of wine before I make my way outside. I set the drinks on the outdoor dining table, remove the hot tub cover and check the temperature, making sure it’s not too hot.
Once I carry the drinks over and set them in the cup holders, I sink into the hot, bubbly water, stretch my arms out, let my head fall back and my eyes close. All the time I’ve been spending with Hanna is starting to get to me.
Reminding me that I’m in my forties, and very much still a bachelor. There are a lot of reasons why getting involved with Hanna on a romantic level would not be a good idea. Queenie and King’s relationship being at the forefront.
But she’s fun. And sexy. And we get each other.
A minute later, the sound of the sliding door opening and closing and the slap of flip-flops against the deck have me cracking a lid.
“You better not be sleeping already!” she calls out.
“Not sleeping, just waiting on you.”
I watch as she pulls the tie on her robe and the terry fabric slips over her shoulders, revealing that red bikini I’m such a fan of. Hanna is all curves. Amazing curves. The kind I’ve fantasized about putting my hands on plenty of times over the past several months. And with us spending a lot more time together, it’s been hard not to give in to the constant draw.
I rise from the water and hold out a hand as she climbs the steps. Her fingers slip into my palm, sending a jolt down my spine and a stirring inside my swim trunks.
“Could you try to be a little less beautiful all the time?”I tease as I help her into the tub. “Could you try to have more of a dad bod?” She drags her fingers down my abs, brows waggling, a smile on her gorgeous face. “You are definitely good for my ego, Jake.” She pats me on the chest and sinks into the water on the opposite side of the tub from me.
Which is probably a good thing since I feel like we’re playing with fire tonight. The kind I wouldn’t mind pouring a gallon of gasoline on just to watch it burn brighter.
“That was a great engagement party. I think the kids had fun, don’t you?”She stretches her legs out. Her toes skim the outside of my thigh and I barely resist the urge to run my hand up her calf.
I don’t know what’s in the air tonight, but things seem…different. Heightened.
“Yeah. It was good,” I agree. She pokes me with her toe. “Then why are you frowning? You’ve been off all night. What’s going on?” With all the planning and talks we’ve been having, Hanna and I have gotten to know each other better. And she can read me pretty easily.
“I don’t know. On one hand, I’m happy for King and Queenie and I know he’s going to be a great husband to my daughter, but I spent all these years raising her, and being there for her. They’ve been living together for months, but for some reason, it’s all kind of hitting me. It’s real now.” I take a sip of my scotch. “It’s different from when she went away to college, and even when she moved out of the pool house and in with King. There’s this hole I didn’t expect.”
“It sounds like empty nester’s syndrome.” She moves to the spot beside to me, where the glass of wine I poured her sits.
“Is that what this is? I’m all morose and shit.”
She chuckles and props her elbow on the edge of the tub. “You need to look at it with a fresh perspective, that’s all. You’re not losing your daughter. It’s different with girls. Sure, she’s found her partner in life, but she’s always going to be your baby girl. And the two of you are so close.”
“I don’t know what to do with all of this freedom,” I admit. “My entire life up to this point has been revolved around raising Queenie and my career.”
“Which means you did your job. And that’s a good thing. Think about it, Jake. This is the great part about having a kid young. Sure, you lost out on the freedom of your twenties, but in some ways, this is even better. You’re in your forties. You have a great job, you’re in incredible shape.” She twists and pulls her knee up so it rests against my thigh, her arm extending along the back of the tub, fingertips skimming my . “You have all of your hair.”
“I’m definitely grateful for the last one,” I joke.
“You have great hair.” She runs her fingers through it. “It’s sexy.” She bites her lip and then shakes her head. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, you’re in the prime of your life. Most people in their forties are raising teens, or maybe their kids are getting ready to go to college. You’ve done all that. Now you can just live. You can date. Have fun. Do whatever you want.”
“Fun would be good.”My gaze drops to her lips. “And I’d like to do whatever I want.”
“Me, too.” Her bottom lip slides through her teeth. “Like right now I could kiss you.”
“You definitely could.” I skim her thigh under the water with my fingertips.
She nods. “There’s nothing stopping us.”
“So why aren’t your lips on mine yet?” I ask.
Hanna shifts again, her wet palms come to rest on either side of my jaw, and she presses her soft lips to mine.
I slip my hand under her hair and wrap it around the back of her neck. For a moment, I question whether this is a good idea. But when our lips part and our tongues meet, I forget all the reasons why it might not be.
I groan as I sink into the kiss and our tongues tangle. She tastes fruity, like the wine she’s been drinking. She straddles me and settles in my lap, her breasts pressing against my chest.
She breaks the kiss for a moment and our eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.”
“I’ve wanted to know what your lips taste like since the first day I met you,”
About Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
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And there’s a small complication.
A beautiful, sexy complication named Hanna.
She’s my son-in-law’s older sister. Or at least that’s how they were raised. The truth is a little more scandalous than that.
I’ve been drawn to her from the moment I laid eyes on her. And I spent months trying to keep a lid on that attraction.
Until we finally give in.
It starts with one searing kiss, but quickly ends with us between the sheets—and in the shower, and the hot tub, you get the picture—and turns into months of sneaking around.
Here’s the problem: we live on opposite ends of the country. It can’t be anything but casual. And as I’ve already said…it’s complicated.
But when Hanna finds out she’s pregnant…suddenly things get real serious.
Helena
Hunting has been the queen of quirky, hilarious heroines. And then I started
this series and fell in love with her writing serious, deep characters. So now
when I pick up her books I don't know if I'm getting a story that will have me
laugh out loud or cry like a baby.
Every
book in this series has been awesome and each one has had its own unique story.
With each couple dealing with their own issues. And yet we still got the happy,
feel good romance that Helena does so well. Plus, all of the characters we know
and love from previous books and series are all there being their awesome
selves.
When
it was announced that this was Jake and Hanna's story, I was so excited. For so
many reasons. And I initially was expecting it to be light and funny and the drama
to be based around their extremely complicated family dynamics. But I read a
warning about the serious twist this one took.
So,
if you've read this series in order you became well acquainted with Jake and
Hanna through Queenie and Ryan's story. And you felt the chemistry every time
these two were in the same room. If you haven't then get to it, this series is
must read.
Jake
and Hanna were perfect together. They were mature and had both been through so
much, yet they were both simply happy living their lives. Each of them was
focused on their family and their own lives. But when they came together they
didn't throw any unnecessary drama or obstacles in their way. They worked
together and communicated and just made this a great book to read.
I'm
so sad to see this series end but I can't wait to see what's next. And no doubt
we will catch up with all of these guys sometime in the future.
My Review
I follow his gaze to the front of the room. Standing at the desk with her back to us, arranging papers, is a woman with wavy chestnut hair that nearly reaches her waist. “Maybe an intern?”
She’s wearing a navy dress that conforms to her very feminine form. I trace the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, skimming down to where the hem of her dress hits the bend in her knee. Her calves are bare, athletic, and toned, and her heels boast a little bow on the back. Classy, yet sexy. “Possibly.”
“I hope the eye candy is gonna be permanent,” someone at the table behind us says, loud enough for everyone close by to hear.
“I wouldn’t mind if she helped me with my jockstrap,” one of the other guys chimes in, eliciting a loud chuckle from the rest of the table.
I glance over my shoulder and pin them with an unimpressed glare. I recognize Foley from Tampa, and Dickerson is an LA trade. They’re notorious womanizers. “Watch your mouth and have some respect. That’s someone’s daughter.”
“Take it easy, King. It’s not like we’d actually say that to her face,” Foley says.
I don’t have an opportunity to reprimand him further because the GM, Jake Masterson, and our head coach, Alex Waters, enter the room through the side door. The GM crosses over to the woman, whose back is still turned to us, and he gives her a smile that seems . . . overly warm. He leans in and squeezes her shoulder as he says something with his mouth close to her ear.
“Maybe she’s not his assistant. Maybe she’s his new girlfriend, ’cause that looks pretty damn friendly to me.” Bishop jams a sausage link into his mouth.
“Maybe,” I agree.
She turns slightly, giving me a glimpse of her profile. Her cheeks are flushed pink. I blink a couple of times, because she seems incredibly familiar.
“I think I know her,” I mumble, more to myself than to Bishop.
“Not as well as our GM does, by the look of things.”
It hits me like a puck in the chest without pads on. I do know her. Queenie. My one-night stand who bailed the next morning and left a Post-it and panties hanging from my doorknob. Destroyed panties. “Oh God.”
Did I sleep with the GM’s girlfriend? Memories come barreling into my brain, and I want to sink into the floor. My behavior that night was highly atypical. Everything about that night was. I chalked it up to the alcohol, the family drama, and the fact that she seemed to be a very eager and willing participant in our adventures. Do not think about the things you did to her.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Queenie and our night together. I’ve even considered driving by the bar where we met, but I don’t know if she’s likely to show up there. And it’s not as if I can ask the bartender about her without looking like a creep. Besides, if she wanted me to have her number, she would’ve left it.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to hurl,” Bishop asks.
I cover my mouth with my palm, not because I’m going to be ill but to hide the fact that it’s hanging open and I can’t seem to close it. Although my stomach is starting to do those awful somersaults that will soon turn into full-on nausea. The kind I used to get when I’d first hit the ice for a game.
This is bad. Really bad. I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I’ve always been in committed relationships, and I prefer to get to know my bed partners before they actually get into bed with me. Teen pregnancy was pretty common where I grew up in Tennessee, because there wasn’t much else to do apart from playing sports or getting into trouble with drugs and alcohol—my brother, Gerald, went the latter route. I obviously fit into the sports category. By the time I became a teenager, my parents had finally learned their lesson. It was drilled into me to never become that kind of statistic, or to turn my girlfriend into a mom before she was ready to take on more than senior-level algebra.
Ironic how my actual mother would’ve been one of those girls had my grandparents not made the choices they had.
“King?” Bishop nudges me. “You’re staring, man.”
Jake whistles with his fingers, causing the woman beside him to cringe but then quickly school her expression into an uncertain smile. “Who’s ready for a new season?”
He’s rewarded with a chorus of cheers from the players. Waters stands off to the side, clapping enthusiastically. He generally runs all team meetings, but Jake is a hands-on GM, so he always manages first meeting intros before he hands it over to our coach.
Jake waits for everyone to settle down and take their seats before he continues. “Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to my personal assistant, Queenie.” He throws his arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his side.
A hot spike of anger rushes down my spine—it’s a foreign feeling. I’m usually very level headed. But not right now. It’s obvious by the way Jake and Queenie interact that there’s a relationship there. Is she a cheater? Did she make me one? There’s a definite age gap. He’s young for a GM, but he’s in his forties, and I’m pretty sure she’s in her mid twenties.
“She also happens to be my daughter, so don’t get any ideas, boys.” He somehow manages to wink and glare at the same time.
And it just went from bad to worse.
My one-night stand isn’t my GM’s girlfriend; she’s his daughter.
"Bishop and Stevie's relationship is pure, raw, can't-take-your-eyes-off-the-the-page kindle crack. One of my favorite books by this brilliant author." - LJ Shen, USA Today bestselling author
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“Okay. That’s not going to work. The angle is too awkward.” She taps her lip and holds her finger up. “I have an idea.”
She ducks out from under my arm and hooks her fingers in the waistband of her yoga pants.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Calm down. Some bathing suits have less coverage than my underwear. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She kicks off her yoga pants, leaving her in a T-shirt and panties. They’re plain cotton boy shorts, which should be a good thing, but apparently my body doesn’t care that it’s not a satin or lace thong. All it cares about is the proximity of almost-naked pussy.
Rook’s sister is standing in my bathroom in her underwear. If I had a sister who looked like Stevie and I knew that she was standing in one of my teammate’s bathrooms half-naked, I would probably kick the shit out of the guy. Thankfully, I have a brother.
I try to keep my eyes averted, sort of, but I catch her reflection in the vanity mirror.
She has fantastic legs. Athletic. Strong. And her ass. Goddamn. She definitely does a lot of squats, based on how round and firm it looks. The ache in my groin turns into that stabbing pain again because I’m getting hard. I think about my grandmother in a bathing suit to counteract the effect of Stevie being partly undressed.
She steps into the tub, and I force myself to keep my eyes down, bringing up the image of that hot chick in the tub who turns into a rotting old lady in The Shining. That helps a bit. At least until Stevie moves into my personal space and starts touching me again. I mutter a string of profanity, especially when I feel her boob pressed against my arm for a few seconds. I have no choice but to latch on to her shoulder as we lift my leg over the edge of the tub. I’m sweating, I’m angry, and I hate my dick.
“I need you to stop touching me!” It’s stupid because I’m still holding on to her, not the other way around.
“Why are you yelling at me?” she shouts back.
“Because you’re half-undressed in my tub, and I’m a guy, and apparently my dick is a fucking sadist. It honestly feels like my balls are on fire right now. A semi has never] been this painful.”
“Well, close your damn eyes and think about dead things.”
“It doesn’t matter if I close them. The image of you in panties is burned into the back of my lids, probably for the rest of my fucking life. It’s all I can see.”
“You’d think you’d never seen a set of bare legs before.” She helps me lower myself into the tub and steps out.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a pair up close,” I grumble.
“Such a surprise, with your warm, fuzzy personality.”
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Just as I settle on an action flick, a body lands in my lap. At first, I think I’m being accosted—yet again. It’s not unusual for women to literally throw themselves at me. Typically I’m not on a plane, though, but considering my last flight I shouldn’t be surprised by anything right now. “What the—”
“I’m so sorry!” says the voice attached to the body in my lap. She scrambles to right herself but jerks back, gagging, her tidal wave of silky, dark hair slapping me in the face. It smells like mint and cucumber, which would be nice if it weren’t in my mouth.
She grabs my shirt with one hand and catches my earbuds, yanking them free. The other hand curls under the fabric wrapped tightly around her throat. She’s sprawled across my lap, legs hanging over the armrest, face level with mine. She’s totally blocking the aisle, making it impossible for anyone to get by and creating quite the spectacle. “My scarf is caught,” she rasps. “Oh my God. I’m choking myself. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.” The more she struggles, the more the scarf tightens, which in turn causes her to flail.
I slide a supporting arm behind her. “Stay still for a sec.”
She freezes, still gripping my shirt, eyes wide with panic. I turn my head to the side and lean forward. Her lips connect with my cheek.
“Oh!” She tries to turn away, but she really is stuck, so her nose ends up in my ear and her lips are still pressed against my jaw.
“Just give me a few more seconds, and you’ll be free.” She exhales heavily against my jaw, warm breath making my skin prickle. I lift her carry-on and use my foot to pull the scarf free from the wheel.
She loosens the fabric around her throat, dragging in a long, deep breath. “Thank you. So much. Choking to death on an attractive man’s lap really isn’t the way I wanted to go.” She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes to a stand. “I’m so sorry.”
She keeps her gaze averted as she gathers up the scarf that never seems to end. It gives me time to check her out. Well, shit. This woman is hot. Like Pour a gallon of gasoline on me and light me on fire hot. She has long dark hair, a shade of brown so deep it’s nearly black. Her eyes are the color of coffee or chocolate—something with caffeine in it. Something that would amp me up. And her face . . . daaaaamn. High cheekbones, full lips, a dainty nose, arched brows, thick lashes.
I take in the rest of the package, which gives me pause because her outfit is just . . . out there. She’s wearing a full-on parka, hiding her figure, but based on her legs I’m thinking she’s probably slender. That’s a guess, though, with all the layers she has going on. And that scarf has to be a mile long with how many times she winds it around her neck, hence the near strangulation.
Her little wardrobe malfunction has resulted in a line of people waiting to board, so she rushes down the aisle, throwing another “So sorry” over her shoulder as she disappears into coach.
I’m almost disappointed. Almost, but not quite. I plug my earbuds back in and veg out to movies for the next three hours.
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