𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 !!!!
“You don’t belong.”
No words whispered in anger have ever rung more true.
They’re the Kings of Brayshaw with the world at their feet, destined for greatness and in need of control.
I’m the girl from the ghetto with nothing to offer and as defiant as they come.
They say it doesn’t matter, that I’m one of them now, and nothing could ever change that. Not even me, should I dare try.
But they’re wrong.
They underestimate how far I’ll go to protect them.
Trouble is coming…and they have no idea
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MIND FUCKED. I mean I could legitimately just leave it at that. No warning, no lube and sure as hell no protection. I am still recovering and I went in gently.
I honestly do not know where to even start with this book. You on the other han, if you haven’t read book one then you most certainly need to and on the plus side you won’t have that torturous wait on book 2. Meagan Brandy has very fast become one of my favourite authors. There is no question, if she writes it then I am going to read it as soon as I can possibly get my hands on it. I was lucky enough to get my grubby little mitts on this one a week before the release and I thought I would devour it. I usually consume her books the day that I get them. I could not do that this time. My blood pressure would not allow it. I had to take movement breaks, coffee breaks and just breaks so that I would not hurl my kindle off the wall. It was a distinct possibility so many times. My mind was completely boggled. The level of story telling in this book is insane. Straight up flawless. I am one of those people who love to read between the lines. I am rarely taken by surprise within the pages of a book. This book however, bar some pretty minor details and one or two other things I was just mind blown. Over and over. The more I read the more my mind spun and the less I knew. I think I was dizzy when I finished. Dizzy, excited, riddled with anxiety but most of all with a thirst for what is coming next!
Read Chapter One here: http://bit.ly/ChapterOneTABH
𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐭 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Start the Series with Boys of Brayshaw High
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Sometimes lady luck shakes your hand, and sometimes she smacks your face. Sometimes she does both on the same day.
Three years ago I met the most amazing woman. We were both down on our luck. Then I got that call—the one that tells you to get your buns on a plane to go meet your destiny.
But the girl was left behind. I didn’t have her phone number, and she didn’t know my real name.
While I became a professional hockey player, she became a superstar, with platinum records and legions of fans. And a slick, music producer boyfriend who treated her badly.
But fate wasn’t done with us yet. When Delilah turns up at a hockey game, I can’t resist making contact. The internet swoons when I ask her out on a date.
She might not remember me. But her jerkface ex does. He’ll do anything to keep us apart.
Good thing athletes never give up. This time I’m playing for keeps.
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“Would you like a beer?” the cute bartender asks me.
I glance at the pile of mint leaves on his cutting board and hesitate. “Sure,” I say. But the mint looks so fresh and pretty.
“I could make you something different.”
“Beer is great. A cold…”
“—lager,” he finishes. “No glass, no opener.”
When I look up to flash him a smile, my heart does a little somersault. Those kind eyes are smiling at me, too. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“It’s really no problem.” He turns toward the beer cooler. “You’re an easy customer, trust me.”
But I really meant—thank you for remembering. As he leans down to grab a bottle for me, I find myself admiring the strong muscles in his back. Stop it, I admonish myself. It only gets worse when he turns around and places the bottle in front of me. I’ve never seen hands like his. I didn’t even know wrists could look muscular.
Even so. Ogling him is not why I came here. I pull out my keychain opener and remove the cap from my beer.
He discards it, gives me another pleasant smile and then picks up his paring knife again.
I take a sip, wondering when he’s going to mention my show at the Coconut Club. He was there. I saw him.
He separates some mint leaves from their stems and says nothing.
I last about seventeen seconds. “Well?”
“Well?” He looks up. “Sorry?”
“Jesus lord.” I close my eyes and then open them again. This is not going how I’d hoped it would. “What did you think?”
“Of…?” His amazing eyes are studying me.
“Forget I asked.” I take a swig of beer.
“Think about what?” He pushes the cutting board aside, and his smile turns knowing.
“My set at the Coconut Club! I saw you holding up that wall in the back. Don’t lie.”
He tips his head back and lets out a sudden laugh. “I’m so busted. I loved your show, but I didn’t expect you to spot me.”
“You loved it so much you weren’t going to say anything?” The sentence sounds crazy to my own ears. I put down the beer. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just being psycho right now. This town is getting into my head.”
“Listen, girly.” He braces both (muscular!) hands on the bar and looks me right in the eye. “I loved it so much that I don’t even know what to say about it. From that moment at the beginning—when you shut that asshole’s maw? To the part where you made a lady cry.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t look away. And I never wanted it to end.”
I give him a slow blink, just trying to take that in. It’s so much more than I was even hoping to hear.
“Shit, Delilah. If that set doesn’t win you whatever contract you’re looking for, they don’t even deserve you.”
Something warm and unfamiliar settles into the center of my belly. “That might be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Which only means you’re still trying to get my phone number.”
He laughs immediately. “Can’t both things be true? Both my musical assessment and my interest in your evening plans?”
“Because you know so much about music.” I flip my hair and take another sip of beer.
“Look. I don’t know shit about music. But I know plenty about talent.” He leans down on a set of forearms I shouldn’t be noticing. “I know that talent sometimes takes a nap at just the wrong moment, but it never stays asleep for long. I also know that luck matters, too. If they don’t give you what you want, it won’t be your fucking fault.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
But he’s not done. “I saw something else valuable the other night. You’re good in the clinch. And that counts for double, I swear to God.”
“Yeah. You’re not just good at practice.” He pauses, wrinkling up his interesting nose. “What word would a musician use? Okay—you’re not a rehearsal musician. That stage was like your home. Either that or you fake it really well. That’s going to pay your rent someday, I promise.”
“Wow.” It’s like he looked right into my terrified little soul and found the very thing I needed to hear. Those beautiful eyes of his are practically burning me right now, so I have to look away. “Thank you. Really. I really needed that pep talk.”
I make the mistake of looking up at him again, and, for a split second, I see pure yearning. It’s like our souls vibrate at exactly the same frequency. And I have no idea what to do with that.
Genre: New Adult Romance
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Photo: Sara Eirew
Models: Simon Cooki & Pamela Tremblay Mcallen
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Available in Kindle Unlimited on May 20
I only have one love now—the home furnishings business I’m building into an empire. Maybe money and success can’t love me back, but they keep what’s left of my heart safe. One-night stands are my way of scratching the occasional itch I get for something more. And no one’s better for that than a sexy as sin hockey player I’ll never see again after one very hot night together.
I used to love two things: hockey and women. But now my nieces and nephew are my top priority, because I’m raising them after tragedy stole their parents. Somehow I balance single parenthood and my career as a forward for the Chicago Blaze. There’s no time for women, until I get knocked on my ass by Abby Daniels. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but her devastating past may end us before we even get started.
“Hold still, Uncle Luca.”
My niece Emerson gives me her best glare, but she’s five and cute, so it makes me smile.
“I’m trying,” I tell her, checking out the dark purple polish she’s trying to brush onto my nails.
It’s not my inability to hold still that has more nail polish on my skin than my nails; it’s her technique. My “MANicure”, as my two nieces like to call it, started with my ten-year-old niece Cora and was then passed off to Emerson.
“I found yogurt!” Cora says as she breezes into my bathroom. “It’s got strawberries in the bottom, but that’s okay. This face mask will make you smell good, Uncle Luca.”
I try not to roll my eyes. It’ll be better than the last face mask they whipped up in the kitchen, which had butter in it and was a bitch to scrub off in the shower.
“I have to leave for practice in twenty-five minutes,” I remind the girls. “And I still need a shower. So you have ten more minutes to beautify me.”
“Will you paint my nails, too?” Cora asks me.
I was shit at painting nails when I first became the legal guardian of my two nieces and one nephew a little over a year ago. With practice, though, I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.
“How long ‘til Gram and Gramps will be here?” Emerson asks, still painting my thumb nail even though she’s looking at me.
“About four hours ‘til their flight lands, then maybe an hour for them to get to the house.”
Her toothless grin of excitement makes me ignore the nail polish I can feel on my knuckle.
“Emerson!” Cora yells. “You ruined it! That looks awful.”
Cora picks up the bottle of purple nail polish and Emerson’s happy expression drops away.
“Give it to me,” Cora huffs, holding out her hand for the handle to the polish. “I never should have let you do it.”
“Hey, now.” I give Cora a sharp look. “She was doing her best.”
Cora’s eyes flood with tears. Emerson edges closer to me, because she knows what happens when Cora gets upset.
“He won’t let us do spa days if you mess it up!” Cora cries, glaring at her younger sister. “You ruined everything!”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I tell Emerson. “And Cora, I never said we wouldn’t do this again. We can do a big spa day after my road trip, okay?”
Cora wipes her eyes and nods, still crying. It kills me to see her like this. As the oldest, she carries more of the weight from the deaths of her parents than her siblings. We’ve been in counseling for more than a year now, transitioning through the death of their mother, my sister-in-law Danielle, to the kids’ new life with me as their guardian. The clinical terms for what Cora struggles with—anxiety and controlling tendencies—are easier for me to handle than her breakdowns.
The tension leaves the room and Emerson starts my massage, which is pretty much just her karate chopping my shoulders, while Cora slathers strawberry yogurt onto my face.
“Is your shoulder better?” Cora asks me.
“Yep, it’s all good.”
“Think my mashage helped?” Emerson asks from behind me.
She can’t pronounce some words, and I kinda hope that’ll last longer, because it gets me every time.
“It definitely helped,” I tell her.
I tweaked my shoulder at practice yesterday, and Cora noticed me wince when I was taking out the trash last night. She worries about every sinus cold and bruise I get. I can’t blame the kid. Her dad, my brother Matt, died serving in Iraq and her mom passed away from cancer a year later.
“Hey, let’s get your nails painted, Cora,” I say after glancing at my watch. “I’ve only got five minutes til I have to hit the shower.” I turn to Emerson. “Can you go get the nail polish remover, peanut?”
“Okay.” She races from the room, brown curls flying behind her.
Brenda Rothert authored one of the very first hockey romance series that I ever read. Therefore I believe she is the reason I leave so much money on Amazon as she was part of the reason I got so hocked on hockey. Living in Ireland it isn’t something that we are naturally exposed to or have a predilection to love, it is something I have sought out and fallen in love with. Though with this weeks play offs I am starting to think my heart hates me for it.
An avid reader of all Brenda’s books I was absolutely thrilled when she announced that she was writing a new hockey series. Sports romance is my favourite genre to read and hockey comes out top of that. Anton, the series starter was fantastic and Luca was just incredible. I admit my love for a series grows with every book as we get to know the characters a little more each time and the take root inside of us and we start to feel as though they are friends. Add kids to the mix and well we are just smitten completely. Luca being a single father (OK not biological but he is raising those children) gives him massive brownie points in my eyes (single fathers comes in a very close second to sports, add it to sports and I am a complete goner). Brenda also writes incredibly well, she know how to draw you in to make you laugh and damn her make you cry. Yes, I admit it, there were definitely a few tears shed in the reading of this book. I implore anyone to read this book and not need the kleenex.
Abby, Oh Abby. I would have to say that she is one of my favourite female characters in a long time. That woman is kick ass. I want to be her when I grow up. Kinda. Without all the stuff that made her kick ass. Ya OK never mind. I will just admire her from afar. She is an amazing woman. I can’t really say a hell of a lot else without giving things away and I don’t do that. Suffice to say you will love her. She and Luca are one of those couples that were just destined to be together, to guide each other through the tough times and enjoy each other in the good times.
To say that this book will pull at your heart strings is probably a huge under statement. However it will also give you many heart warming moments and at times you will even laugh and smile. It really is a fantastic work of art by Brenda Rothert and I simply can’t wait to see how she is going to follow it up with the rest of the series.