Gunnar Bond is broken.
Three years ago, he lived through the car crash that took his wife and twins away from him—though “lived” barely describes his current state. Giving up professional hockey, going off grid, and drinking himself into oblivion are his coping mechanisms. Another is texting his dead wife about his days without her. Therapeutic? Doubtful. Crazy?
Definitely. But those messages into the ether are virtually the only thing stopping him from spiraling to even darker places.
Until someone texts back . . .
Sadie Yates is losing it.
Suddenly guardian to a little sister she doesn’t know and a misbehaving hound she’d rather not know at all, she’s had to upend her (sort of) glamorous life in LA and move back to Chicago. The nanny has quit, the money’s running out, and her job is on the line. The last thing she needs is her sister’s hockey camp counselor, a judgmental Viking type, telling her she sucks at this parenting lark. Thank the goddess for her sweet, sensitive, and—fingers crossed—sexy text buddy who always knows the right thing to say. In the same city at last, they can finally see if their online chemistry is mirrored in real life. She just needs to set up a meeting …
A ruined man who claims to have used up all his love is surely a bad bet, but Sadie’s never been afraid of a challenge … even one that might shatter her heart into a million pieces.
She smoothed the skirt of her dress, a cute shift style she’d cut from an old Vogue pattern and paired with a fun, sparkly belt. Placing her hand on the door handle, she grabbed her Kate Spade, gift from her friend Peyton, only to stall at hearing her phone buzz.
“Hold your horses, woman,” she muttered, expecting to see an all-caps text from Allegra. Instead it was from someone rather unexpected.
LonelyHeart: It’s cold and miserable, like me. How about you?
More than twenty-four hours later, he’d texted back! About the weather, but she’d take it.
Sadie: Sunny with a chance of more sun. Like me!
She cringed at her ridiculousness. Sadie: Sorry, just being a goof. What’s going on? Forehead slap. He’s mourning his wife, that’s what.
LonelyHeart: I’ve been thinking about the 9 million numbers and how it is you have this one number. Of all the numbers. This one that means something to me.
She had no idea what to say to that. Maybe it’s fate? The goddess? Maybelline?
The dots started up again and she let him finish his thought.
LonelyHeart: Maybe it means we’re supposed to be talking.
Sadie: I think so. It has to be a sign.
LonelyHeart: So you don’t think it’s weird?
What? Talking to a man who wished he was chatting with the deceased love of his life. Nah!
Sadie: No, not at all. You don’t have to say anything, but I wanted you to know I’m here if you need to talk.
LonelyHeart: Not much of a talker.
Sadie smiled. This man—and she was sure it was a man—was much more of a “talker” than he claimed.
Sadie: Yet you can’t shut up in those texts J
LonelyHeart: Kind of chatty when there’s only four wooden walls.
Sadie: You have me now.
She sent it before she had time to think about how it would sound. Presumptuous. Needy. A bridge too far.
Allegra: SADIE, WHERE ARE YOU??!!!
Damn. She waited for LonelyHeart to respond, worried she’d scared him off. Her phone rang with Allegra’s high-energy smile on the screen (Allegra had energy degrees for her smiles. This one was an eight.) Sadie let it go to voice mail. It seemed incredibly important that she wait for his response. Just a second, just one more second …
LonelyHeart: I should let you go. I’ll check in later if that’s okay.
Sadie’s heart thundered. Definitely. I’m dying to hear about the wooden walls. Are you Amish? But a user of phones? An Amish tech-lover?
LonelyHeart: No. I live in a cabin. In a forest.
Sadie: Like the Unabomber? I’m not really into revolutionary anarchy but I can tell a million jokes about it.
LonelyHeart: Jokes would be welcome during the revolution.
Sadie: Awesome! I’ll get my arsenal of bad puns ready. (Arsenal? Revolution? Get it?) Prepare to be entertained.
LonelyHeart: Is that your way of discouraging me from checking in? Because I’m not easily frightened.
Sadie: Wait until you hear my A material.
Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron, a fire hose, or a hockey stick, and she's there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary romance with alpha heroes and strong heroines who can match their men quip for quip.
InstacrushKate Meader
(Rookie Rebels #2)
Publication date: December 10th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Sports
Theo Kershaw is the luckiest guy alive.
Roaring back from a life-threatening injury, he has the world at his skates as defenseman for his new team, the Chicago Rebels. Everyone adores his big personality, his on-ice talent, and his killer smile. Everyone but his prickly neighbor – or so he thinks. One chilly Christmas Eve, Theo will learn that maybe the girl next door isn’t such a hater after all …
Elle Butler is the most embarrassing person on the planet.
How else can the ex-military-now-bartender explain her crush on the hot jock who lives across the hall? True, he has gorgeous green eyes and perfect cheekbones, but the filter between his brain and too-sexy mouth is permanently malfunctioning. Yet she can’t stop checking out his Instagram antics or sneaking looks at him when he’s in her bar. So. Mortifying. Running from a past filled with damning secrets, Elle’s determined that this guilty pleasure remains buried in her deepest fantasies.
Because she couldn’t possibly indulge with the Theo Kershaw or make a mistake that draws attention to her under-the-radar life. And she especially couldn’t be a mom to a pro-athlete’s baby … could she?
“Fender bender when you did, right?”
“Oh, I have epic self-control. But seeing them made me realize that you’re a bit too pretty. I kind of like ’em rougher.” She placed a finger under his chin and tilted it for inspection. “You ever get into a fight? And I don’t mean those phony ballets you perform on the ice for your fan base.”
“I’m more a lover than a fighter.”
She scoffed, reluctantly withdrawing her touch. “Thought as much. Wouldn’t want to risk getting that perfect nose broken.”
He didn’t take offense. She wondered what in the world would ever bother The Theo Kershaw.
“So we’ve established I’m not manly enough for you. Any other comments?”
“Oh, I’d never be one to criticize.”
He waved a hand. “Help me out, Elle-oh-Elle. Give me some pointers on how to win a real woman such as yourself.”
She thought about it for a moment, her blood fizzing with the fun of sparring with him. “You’d need to be a completely different person. But don’t fret, your current vapid personality is probably cleaning up so don’t change a thing, ’kay?”
He didn’t look put out, probably because her jab carried no heat. They both knew she wouldn’t be talking to him like this if she really believed he was dumb and vain.
“Yeah, good thing I’m doing okay. It’s just you’re here and I’m here …” The implication being that only proximity would force him to lower his standards.
She patted his chest and suppressed a groan at how hard it felt under her fingertips. “I know you can’t help yourself. You’ve got a penis that seeks out the nearest vagina like a diving rod. It’s really not your fault.”
“True. I can’t be held accountable for my incorrigible flirting.”
He grinned and she grinned back, and that fizz in her veins bubbled bright. He’d figured out her game, matched her quip for quip. They understood each other and now they were … friends?
How odd.
And surprisingly sweet.
Theo Kershaw was smarter than he looked. Confusion must have registered on her face because he seemed to be closer, more present. A rush of awareness overtook her, not just of him, but of them and the sparking connection being formed in this sizzling moment, more powerful than mere sexual attraction.
Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron, a fire hose, or a hockey stick, and she's there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary romance with alpha heroes and strong heroines who can match their men quip for quip.a Rafflecopter giveaway
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DON'T MISS THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE SIZZLING TALL, DARK, AND TEXAN SERIES
EVEN THE SCORE (Tall, Dark, and Texan, #1)
TAKING THE SCORE (Tall, Dark, and Texan, #2)
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