The Romance Line
by Lauren Blakely
Self-Published
Book 2 in the Love and Hockey Series
The first rule of handling PR for a hockey team? Never hook up with a player.
That shouldn’t be a problem since the last man on earth I want to give an image makeover to is our goalie. He’s infuriatingly hot, famously grumpy and lives to spar with me after every game.
But shining up his rough edges is my path to landing the promotion I desperately need, so I grit my teeth and do my job. No matter how hard he makes it (especially with that sexy smirk and cool blue eyes.) As we travel from pose-with-a-pet photo opps to cuddle-a-kitten fundraisers, we bicker like it’s foreplay.
Turns out it is.
Because as I get to know the man behind the broody iceman exterior, it’s me that melts – right into his arms as he devastates me with a kiss that turns into the hottest, most forbidden night of my life.
Only once turns into every night as Max shows me how much he wants to take care of me. His possessive touch makes me feel adored for the first time in my life.
But the man is entirely off limits and I can’t risk my job for more of those soul-deep kisses.
Because the only thing worse than hooking up with a player is falling head over heels for him.
Genre
Triggers
Trauma from a past accident that resulted in death, scarring from terrible injury
This. Book. Was. Hot.
I liked it even more than the first book. While I loved most of the banter, it did suffer a bit from the same problem in the first book, which some of the dialogue felt stilted and forced.
For the most part, I found everything enjoyable. I love sarcasm, and Everly and Max's banter with one another was filled with it.
Add in that grumpy/sunshine mix, and buckets of chemistry, and it was like magic.
While I wasn't sure if I was going to finish the series or not, because I still don't feel this deep ache to find out the rest of the characters stories, I think I will one day. I like Lauren's writing style, and while I don't always love the dialogue between the characters, I'm intrigued enough to continue.
I think if you want a lighthearted hockey romance, you should check out this series.
Fuck, she’s hot when she’s irritated. How is that possible? Witchcraft, I’m guessing.
“Speaking of Max, where is our resident Eeyore?”
Everly: "I’m guessing a week or so if all we need to do is build out your social with some fresh content. Nothing too taxing. Just pics of your favorite things.”
Max: “Like rainy days with my favorite mug? Like soft blankets and the smell of lilacs in the morning?”
He flutters his lashes in complete mockery. But I fight fire with fire this time.
Everly: “Sure. We can take a picture of you gazing out your bay window and watching the city roll by while you drink chamomile tea. Then we’ll snap a shot of you shopping for pumpkins at the farmers’ market. And maybe you can even sniff a candle when you get home. How does that sound?”
Oh, did that come out sarcastic? My bad.
Max: “Let’s start Monday. I have a candle-making class, in fact,”
he counters, not one to be outdone.
Everly: “Fantastic. I’ll be there taking pics.”
Max: “And the farmers’ market is the next day. Let me just make sure I have my favorite wicker basket to bring.”
Everly: “The one with the red gingham cloth in it?”
Max: “How did you know? I got it the other day at the craft fair. Then I wrote about it in my journal of good things. Fucking love that gingham cloth.”
Everly: “You remember the bra I was wearing?”
I ask, when the real question should be how does he know which one I was wearing?
Max: “Fuck yes,”
he says, unapologetic.
Everly: “H-how?”
Max: “Is that a real question?”
His eyes are heated as they roam up and down me.
Max: “I remember my favorite things.”
Max lifts a hand, reaches for the collar of my black blouse, and runs a finger gently along the silk, barely touching my skin but lighting me up all at the same time.
Max: “For the record, if I took you out, I’d never invite anyone to join my date with you.”
I’m thrown off by that statement, the intensity of it, the passion of it. I don’t have a comeback, but he doesn’t seem to need one since he keeps going.
Max: “Besides, drinks is a cop-out. He should take you to dinner. He should drive you home. He should walk you to your door. He should make sure you get inside safely. But before he does that, he should devastate you with a kiss like he can’t fucking breathe if he doesn’t kiss you.”
Forget aching. I’m outrageously aroused. My breath catches. But I say nothing still as he lets go of my shirt, finishing with,
Max: “I would never share you.”
Everly: “What if I like nice guys?”
I counter. He pins me with his gaze.
Max: “You don’t.”
Everly: “You don’t know what I like.”
He smirks.
Max: “I think I do though.”
Max: “Want to know why I kiss you like this?”
My breath comes surprisingly fast.
Everly: “Yes,”
I say, desperate. I’m dying for his answer.
Max: “Because you need to be savored, Everly. Because I would never rush things with you. Because you are not a quickie.”
His words thrum through my whole body, making me tingle everywhere as I meet his gaze.
Everly: “What am I?”
He pulls back and locks his gaze with mine, his eyes filled with what looks like raw honesty.
Max: “You’re a bad idea, and I still fucking want you so much.”
“Speaking of clowns, I hear you’re going to join the circus when you’re done with hockey. Let me know where you wind up because I will heckle the fuck out of that.”
Max: "I haven’t been with anyone for a year and a half.”
The corner of her lips curve into a grin, then she’s sassy again as she says,
Everly: “Are you worried you won’t last, Lambert?”
My eyes narrow, and I stare harshly at her.
Max: “For that I’m going to give you three orgasms before I get one.”
Her eyes sparkle.
Everly: “Threaten me again, Max.”
Everly: “So what exactly were you thinking about?”
Max: “That you had my number against your very pretty pussy. Now why don’t you put this gorgeous pussy on my face,”
he commands.
Max: “Because I’m really, really hungry.”
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