“Golf is a lot like love, I think. If it isn’t making you a little nuts, is it even real? Passion — good or bad, is how you can gauge what’s really important to people.”
I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to tell you all of the reasons why you should read Rebecca Jenshak’s Sweet Spot. There are many, and it’s made it a bit of a chore to put this review together because I love to go deeper in my reviews to the heart of the book and how all of its writing parts make for a splendid read. I think for this review I’d like to focus on feelings because it’s the feelings that explain why this book is so good. But let me backtrack and give you a little overview.
One of Rebecca Jenshak’s PAs reached out to me about a year ago wondering if I’d like to read one of Jenshak’s books. I was a newer blogger/reviewer so I jumped at the chance. Plus the book was a sports romance centered around basketball, college basketball to be specific. That book landed me in the “sweet spot” of Jenshak’s books. I fell in love with Wes, the hero of The Assist. From there, I became an adorer of Jenshak, reading Electric Blue Love, The Fadeaway, The Tipoff, and The Fake. Honestly, each new book showcased Jenshak’s ability to create a story that pulls you into her books. And each new book felt like a more improved version of Jenshak herself. Yes, I loved Wes’s book, but the more Jenshak has written, the more her books have developed. That, right there, is the reason that writing is so powerful.
When Jenshak announced the Sweet Spot, I, of course, knew I was going to read this book. I love her brand of romance, but this one intrigued me because, while still set in the Valley U universe, the sport is golf. I’m not sure because I’m still building my knowledge of romance, but I haven’t read too many golf romances. Even more, the heroine is the college golfer, and the hero, Lincoln, is quite a bit older. It would be unfair to say that Lincoln is only a swing coach. We’ve actually been introduced to him previously in the Smart Jocks novels, something I didn’t realize before going into the book. That is where my excitement began. Jenshak shows us quite easily that she’s invested in her book universe. While we aren’t on the court this time, we are still connected to her other books. And I love that.
The second point of excitement lies in her heroine, Keira. Keira personifies feminine strength. It is through her words where we are challenged about Title IX issues with women’s sports. It is in her actions where we see a passion for her game come to life, and we recognize the injustices against her, made by her coach. Keira is the impetus for Lincoln’s personal growth, and Jenshak gives her a steadfastness of character even in the face of pain. Honestly, it would be easy to say that this story is “made” with Jenshak’s handsome hero, but the grit of this story lies with Jenshak’s characterization of Keira. She is unlike Jenshak’s other heroines which is a lovely surprise.
Now, when I made the comment above about Lincoln, it is not meant to disparage his character development. Not at all. Lincoln’s journey is the message of the Sweet Spot. You see, Lincoln is living a life of existence; he’s not living an abundant life. He is a successful business owner who is hiding form relationships due to his past. To borrow from Jenshak’s title, while he believes his life exists in the “sweet spot” because his business is growing and exponentially successful; it is far from it. When Lincoln meets Keira and begins to help her with her golf game, Lincoln comes to life again. He moves closer to the sweet spot of living. Yet, as every successful romance has, there are always complications, and those complications exist with Lincoln. Jenshak uses his characterization to complicate his burgeoning relationship with Keira. Without Lincoln, there is no big pay-off/happy ending. His evolution entwines with Keira’s strength of character creating the “sweet spot” of this book.
And lastly, one of my favorite parts of Jenshak’s writing is her pacing. I flew through this book. Lately, I’ve been reading romances where I felt trapped in the story because the writer’s pacing is sluggish. It is only through diligence and perseverance that I escape to the better parts of the story. Not with Jenshak. She builds each moment in such a cohesive and enterprising way that she eases you through her story. Her romance isn’t an easy one; instead, her pacing drives you forward. Before I knew it, I had begun and finished her book in one big bite.
Additionally, Lincoln’s grandmother is a TREASURE in this story. When the story felt heavy, Jenshak inserts Gram to provide some levity. When Lincoln is being too hard on himself, Gram is there to dispense wisdom. When Keira is a little broken, Jenshak inserts Gram to help Keira know herself. I love when grandparents make their way into a book. Jenshak’s incorporation of her into the Sweet Spot offers the right balance between humor and wisdom.
Sweet Spot is a compilation of the best parts of romance: an insightful, strong heroine, a hero who needs a strong heroine to remind him how to live an abundant life, a couple of ancillary characters who lighten the story, and a message, which makes that connection to the reader. This book is a reminder that a life lived without passion is meaningless. Instead, we need to be on fire for something and let our passions light the passions in others.
Shh…I have a secret. I hadn’t read Amie Knight prior to reading an early copy of The First Score. You might be asking, “well, Professor A, if you haven’t read Amie Knight, why did you want to read The First Score?” Two words: sports romance. Yep. I’m a sucker for sports romance. Add to that the idea of friends-to-lovers with a little age gap (older woman-younger man), and I raised my hand high for that assignment. Then, Knight decides to make her hero, Oliver “Winnie” Knox, a twenty-three-year-old college football player virgin, and I went from interested to intrigued. So I dived right into The First Score and didn’t look back.
First things first, though. To be fair, Amie Knight, this isn’t really a sports romance. Yes, your hero is a college football player, but there is very very little football in this book. I want to be fair to the readers so that they know that football doesn’t run this book. Nope. This book is really about two life-long friends and their journey towards love.
Now, what did I adore about this book? Ollie Knox. Yep. He is THE best reason to read this book. Warning, readers, you need to know something. If you like the kind of hero who treats the heroine poorly, then you will NOT like Ollie because Oliver Knox has been in love with the heroine of this story, Hazel, for most of his life. The tension in this story is created by Hazel. If you love a hero who is protective, compassionate, thoughtful, handsome, and insightful, then The First Score is ABSOLUTELY a must-read. Hands down, I love “Winnie” Knox.
So what beyond Knight’s hero should lead you to read The First Score? Well, beyond the kind of funny catfishing story and Hazel’s love for gaming, the essence of Hazel’s story is an important one. You should know that Hazel’s life has been difficult, and it has set up a dangerous psychology. It is this psychology that creates the challenges for Oliver and Hazel to be together. It’s also Hazel’s choices that create much of the frustration/tension of this book. Knight deftly creates a tension between Hazel and Ollie that oftentimes feels uncomfortable and beyond the necessary means for a story. There were times when I was nervous for Knight because she took much of the story to get Ollie and Hazel to the right place. But, in hindsight, that was intentional because the last third of The First Score is a treasure. I was crying and laughing in the middle night as I was finishing this story because Knight had carefully laid out the chronology of the story until you feel relieved when Hazel and Ollie move towards their happy ending. There were times in the first part when, honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep reading because Hazel’s indecision was frustrating. Yet, the pay-off in the last third of the book is absolutely worth every frustration.
Beyond Oliver and Hazel’s journey AND Ollie himself, why else should you read this story? One word: Pops. After Ollie, Pops is my favorite character (sorry, Hazel!). He’s funny, irreverent, and an adoring grandfather. When I was ready to give Hazel the middle-finger in her indecision over Ollie, Pops would show up and make it all better. He is the cherry on top of this story.
In the end, there is so much goodness in The First Score. There isn’t really any sports in this romance, but there is a heroine whose journey is an important one. Once you move beyond the walls she’s erected to protect her heart, you move to the essence of this story: that, even though we believe we are unloveable due to other’s actions, there is someone out there who wants to love us hard. They will love us through our pain and ugly parts. And in doing so, they will help us move past the pain to the place of bliss. That’s at the heart of Oliver and Hazel. Don’t miss out on that important message. Read Amie Knight’s The First Score.
Pride, the final book of Willow Aster’s Kingdoms of Sin series, ends the series in all of the glory. This reader has been there since the beginning, Downfall, when the pain bled on the page from Luka’s spurning of his arranged bride, Eden, through their eventual happy ending to Mara and Elias’s story in book 2, Exposed, to Ava and Gentry in book 3, Ruin. Each book’s characters were singular. The journeys of their heroes and heroines were specific to that story. All along, though, Willow Aster has stretched a story of intrigue and political treachery. Each book serves up a piece of that romantic suspense, and it’s the thread that binds you to this series.
In book 4, Pride, the final book of the series, Aster pulls that thread taut, revealing the final piece of the puzzle. I’ll be honest. There isn’t really any surprise as to the culprits behind the political betrayals. It’s clear through all of the books who the political puppetmasters are. It’s in this book, though, where Aster shines integrity over these hidden entities and allows the “good guys” to win in the end. If you are hoping for a satisfying ending with Pride, then you will be happy.
Underpinning the suspense of the Kingdoms of Sin series is its romance. Again, each book engages in a different romantic trope. With Pride, my favorite romantic trope is realized: enemies to lovers. Delilah Farthing is the daughter of Jadon Safrin’s kingdom’s enemy. When she decides to secretly meet with Jadon to attempt to resolve kingdom conflicts, the enemy’s daughter and Jadon feel an instant attraction. There is something about Delilah that Jadon feels drawn to, and Delilah feels the same. As the story progresses and Jadon must step in to protect Delilah from her father’s machinations, he will stop at nothing to keep her safe. However, their journey is a complicated one, and Delilah will have to save herself and her kingdom first.
Unlike the other books of this series, the journey for the hero and heroine in Pride is a bit different. Delilah and Jadon do not fight their feelings for each other for long unlike Eden and Luka, Mara and Elias, and Gentry and Ava. Their journey is complicated by kingdom intrigues. As such, the tension of this book lies in their survival as their lives are met with danger at every turn. This is also the weakest part of the book, as the tension is elongated too far into the book.It feels contrived at times, drawing away from the burgeoning relationship between Delilah and Jadon.
With that, Aster crafts a chemistry between Delilah and Jadon that burns the page. Even more, Jadon is the strongest hero in this series. It’s been clear since the first page that he is stalwart and resilient in the face of difficulties. In Pride, Aster elaborates on this by showing us his integrity and compassion for both Delilah and the less fortunate. He is a great king and a great person, so, as the reader, you root for his success in wooing Delilah and saving her from the political danger. I would have liked for the danger to have been edited to a few moments. Instead, they sometimes take over the story, losing some of the romance in its journey.
One of the divine parts of this story, though, (besides Delilah and Jadon’s romance) is the focus on women as chattel. It is clear that this is a modern-day story, yet Delilah’s experience illustrates ideologies of the past in terms of women. She is seen as a negotiable piece of her father’s property, and she strives throughout the book to gain personal power as protection. She recognizes her lack of knowledge about her father’s kingdom, and she attempts to remedy that by allying herself with his enemies. Even more, she takes a stand as a way to protect her future. She spurns the help of Jadon and does this in her own will. Yes, at some point, Jadon becomes her ally and helpmate, but Aster creates a heroine who saves herself first. Aster shows us through her story that Delilah’s true power exists from within. Love simply helps manifest that power.
In the end, Willow Aster has carefully crafted a series that intrigues, titillates, and challenges you. With Pride, she brings a perfect resolution to a series that has been fraught with character anxieties and challenges. Yet, in true romance fashion, everyone finds their happy ending, and the kingdoms thrive in the world of “happily-ever-afters.”
USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller, Nana Malone’s love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she “borrowed” from her cousin.
It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She’s been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.
While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion, and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.
Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.
We all snicker when we see who Diego’s discreetly pointing at as we walk past her in the hallway. Some freshman who looks about ten, with big blue eyes and a mouth full of metal. She’s cute enough, but way too young.
“I don’t think so,” I tell my friends as we stride toward the quad.
It’s lunchtime. Our senior year. We’re able to drive off campus now, but not today. Coach wants us to watch game film of the team we’re playing tomorrow night. So we have about fifteen minutes to grab food before we all meet in the team room to study our opponents. Learn their weak spots, their strengths. See if they’re better defensively or offensively.
When I say Coach, I’m talking about my dad. I just try to keep that shit separate. It’s easier that way.
“Check her out,” says Diego—one of my best friends—nudging me in the shoulder and now not-so-discreetly pointing at a group of girls sitting at a nearby picnic table.
“Which one?” Again, they’re young. Maybe sophomores? I don’t really recognize any of them. If they’re a couple of years younger than me and not friends with my sister Ava, who’s a junior, or on the football team, I don’t bother getting to know them.
That makes me sound like an asshole, but I don’t have the time. I have my circle of friends. I even have my circle of acquaintances. This year, my last year in high school, I don’t need to add to either group. I’m perfectly content with what I have.
“Any of them.” Diego slaps me on the back, a giant grin on his face. “You need to find someone, bro. This single, I-don’t-bother-with-any-girl business is getting old.”
I don’t bother with any girls anymore because when I do, they tend to take my heart and rip it to shreds. It’s ridiculous, but when I fall, I tend to fall hard.
Sophomore year I got my heart broken twice, once by Cami Lockhart. We got back together the beginning of junior year only for her to cheat on me—and I found out via Snapchat.
I’ve never bothered with a girl again. Fuck ’em. I’d rather focus on football and my friends and school, exactly in that order.
“Too young,” I tell Diego, and Caleb, my other best friend, bursts out laughing.
“Oh come on. She’s cute. I’d bet she’s down,” he says with a smirk.
Caleb is an actual asshole. He hooks up with an endless stream of girls, yet most of them don’t complain. It’s like they’re proud to be a Caleb fan girl.
“Find him a senior then,” Diego says, stopping in the direct center of the crowded quad. He settles his hands on his hips and turns in a slow circle, scanning the area with a narrowed gaze. Diego has a girl and they’re supposedly madly in love. I mean, good for him. They seem totally into each other—for the most part. They’ve been together for over a year, and Jocelyn treats him like a god, while she’s his princess, as he calls her. I’m pretty sure they’ve talked about getting married, which is just…insane if you ask me.
We all swivel our heads to see Tony—our quietest friend—inclining his head toward a table to the left of where we’re standing.
There’s a girl sitting there, her back to us. Alone. She’s wearing a black T-shirt, her reddish-blonde hair spilling down her back in loose waves. Her elbow’s propped on the table and she’s resting her cheek on her fist, an open book in front of her. Like she’s reading. For fun.
What the hell?
“No way,” Diego says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Jake’s not into smart girls.”
I’m immediately offended. “Who says?”
“You, with the choices you’ve made in the past,” Diego points out.
He’s got me there. Cami wasn’t that smart. None of the girls I’ve dated were. Not really.
“I like her hair,” Tony says, his tone, his entire demeanor impassive, like we’re talking about the weather. “She’s cute.”
“You should go for her then,” Caleb suggests to Tony.
“Nah. Not my type.” Tony’s gaze meets mine and he tilts his head, like he’s giving me permission to talk to her.
“How do you know she’s a smart girl?” I study her, taking in her narrow shoulders, the elegant slope of her back. She brushes her hair back from her face, tucking the strands behind her ear and offering me a glimpse of her profile. She’s pretty in an understated way, I guess. Upturned nose. Pale skin. Freckles.
I don’t recognize her at all.
“Because she’s reading a book, dumbass.” Caleb sounds enormously pissed off, though I know he’s not. That’s just how he always sounds. “If you don’t ask her to wear your jersey, I think I’ll ask her instead.”
Yes, this is what we’re doing on a Thursday afternoon during lunch. Trying to find a girl for me to ask to wear my jersey on game day. It’s a big deal at our high school, and so far during my reign as the varsity team’s quarterback, I’ve only had one girl ever wear my jersey, and for only one time. It was Cami Lockhart, right at the beginning of our junior year, when I thought there was a possible chance we could work shit out and be a couple again.
But then someone sent me her private story off Snapchat—a video of her making out with motherfucking Eli Bennett, the quarterback for our rival school’s team, and I was done. Finished.
For some reason, this year my boys want to see me make a claim. Find a girl. They tell me I’m too grumpy. That maybe if I’m getting some on the regular, that’ll mellow me out. Some of them even complain I’m too focused, which I don’t get. Why wouldn’t they want me focused?
Focused wins games. I’ve had that drilled into my head over the years by my dad.
“No way,” I tell Caleb when he acts like he’s going to approach the mystery girl sitting at the table. “I’ll do it.”
I don’t know why I’m bothering with this. I don’t know her, but I’m guessing she knows me. Most girls would probably be flattered if I asked, but I’m not that sure if she’s into football, or if she even goes to the games. But it would be cool to see her wear my number around school all day.
Maybe I could make it a thing. Give it to a different girl every week. They’d start fighting for their chance. It could turn into a contest. Maybe it would go viral…
“Go ask her.” Diego gives me a shove in the girl’s direction, his hand right in the center of my back. “Before you chicken out.”
Okay, that shit’s annoying. And it’s just the incentive I need to make it happen. Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at my three best friends, but all they do is make clucking noises at me in return like they’re a bunch of chickens.
Slowly I approach the table, wondering what I should say first. I don’t have a problem talking to girls. I never really have. I almost wonder if this is because I grew up in a household full of women. Don’t get me wrong, Dad is a strong personality and is a big influence on me, but he wasn’t around much when I was little. He was busy working all the time.
Growing up, I was always with Mom, my older sister Autumn and my younger sister Ava. Our little brother Beck didn’t come along until years later, and by then I was resigned with the idea that I’d never even have a brother.
So I was constantly surrounded by girls. Autumn and Ava used to fight like cats and dogs. Now that Autumn’s gone, away at college in Santa Barbara, we don’t see her that much. Ava is happier with Autumn gone, I think. Having an older sister trying to boss you around all the time gets old.
I know I got tired of Autumn’s bullshit. Now, I miss her. Not that I’d ever tell her that.
Deciding I need to approach this mystery girl straight on, I walk around the table, keeping a wide berth so she doesn’t get suspicious or think I’m a stalker. And once I’m facing the table, I take a good, long look at her.
She’s vaguely familiar, so I’m assuming she’s a senior like me, or maybe a junior. Our school is small, so most of the time I feel like I know everyone, but I can’t place her. I don’t remember her name. Her hair is this burnished, reddish-gold color and her eyes are big and blue. Her features delicate—except for her mouth. Full, bee-stung lips that fill my head with dirty images.
Every one of them involves my dick.
Not that I’m actually interested in this girl. I don’t even know her. But as far as my first choice to wear my jersey this week, it’s not a bad one.
Not a bad one at all.
One of my friends, I’m not sure who, makes a bok-bok noise and I send them all a menacing look before I march right up the table and clear my throat. “Hey.”
The girl lifts her head, sky-blue eyes meeting mine, her expression open. Friendly.
Until she keeps looking at me, her gaze narrowing, that open, friendly expression disappearing within seconds. Almost as if she realized who she’s looking at and doesn’t like what she sees.
When she still hasn’t said anything, I decide to keep talking. “What’s your name?”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know my name?”
I know this sounds weird, but I like the sound of her voice. A lot. “Should I?”
“I know yours.” She sniffs, shutting the book she was reading. “Jacob Callahan.”
Ah, see? She knows me. She’ll totally agree to wear my jersey. “You have the advantage then.”
“Because you still don’t remember my name?”
I shrug helplessly and flash her a smile that’s hopefully equal parts bashful yet charming. “Guilty.”
She rolls her eyes, resting her arms on top of the table. “Did you have a question or something?”
Her tone is short. Dismissive. This girl is totally trying to get rid of me. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do have a question for you.”
“I’m waiting on pins and needles,” she says, her voice going up a notch, those blue eyes of hers extra wide.
They’re pretty, I’ll give her that. She’s pretty. There’s a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and she has very white teeth.
“I was wondering if you wanted…” I let my voice drift and I glance down at my shoes, kicking at the base of the picnic bench. I’m trying to up the anticipation a notch. Going for the golly, gee bashful vibe. Girls seem to like it.
Huh. Guess she’s not one for anticipation.
“If you wanted to wear my jersey tomorrow.” I lift my head, my gaze meeting hers straight on, and I see the surprise in her eyes. I’ve shocked her with my request.
Come on, I can see why. I’m me and she’s…whoever she is.
She studies me for a while, and now it’s my turn to wait with anticipation. Her full lips part, like she’s about to say something, but instead, she looks away from me, grabs her things and starts shoving them into her backpack.
As if she’s about to leave.
When she shoots me an irritated glare, slides off the picnic bench and walks away without another word, I chase her, surprised by how quick she is. My friends are laughing, I can hear them as I follow after this chick—still don’t know her name—but I can’t worry about them right now.
Even though they’re total assholes for laughing at me.
“Hey!” I call out, but it’s like my voice only spurs her on. She’s practically in a full jog as she heads toward Adams Hall, and I wonder if her plan is to duck into a classroom and hide from me.
Putting a little speed behind my step, I catch up with her easily, hooking my fingers around her upper arm and stopping her escape. She turns to face me, the look on her face so full of disgust I immediately release her and take a step back.
“Why are you chasing me?” she asks breathlessly. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s practically panting. I get the sense that maybe she doesn’t exercise much? I mean, I’m not even winded.
“You never answered my question.”
She lifts her chin. Blows out an exaggerated breath, like what I’m asking is too damn much. After enduring the last five minutes with this chick, I don’t even want her to wear my jersey now. She’s making way too big a deal about this.
But for some weird reason, I have to know what her answer is.
“My name is Hannah,” she finally says, and it all hits me at once. I do know her. Barely. Hannah Walsh. Senior. Moves in a completely different crowd. As in, she doesn’t really move with any crowd. I’ve never had a class with her ever, because she takes all the advanced courses. My friends were right.
She’s a smart girl.
“Right. Hannah.” I nod and smile. “I know you.”
She smiles in return, though it doesn’t quite reach her sky-blue eyes. “Uh huh. Sure you do.”
“I do. You’re friends with…” My voice drifts. I don’t know who she’s friends with. I can see their faces, but at the moment, I can’t recall their names.
“Please.” She reaches out, settling her hand on my forearm, and it’s like a spark of electricity between us the moment our skin makes contact. She snatches her hand away like I burned her. “Stop trying so hard.”
I almost want to laugh. This girl is telling me to stop trying so hard? Does she even know who she’s dealing with? The power I wield at this school? I’m the most popular guy in the senior class—maybe in all the classes. This is my year to shine. My year to reign.
And this Hannah nobody is telling me to stop trying so hard?
Get the fuck out of here.
Can’t back out now, though. I’m fully committed.
“So what do you say, Hannah? Are you in? Do you want to wear my jersey tomorrow?” Not like I want her to anymore. She’s been rude from the moment I started talking to her.
“Gee, I sure appreciate the offer, but…” She scowls at me, her lush lips pursed. “No.”
Sweet Spot by Rebecca Jenshak is LIVE and FREE in KU!
A hot-headed college golfer falls for her swing coach in this fun and sexy sports romance.
Lincoln Reeves may be a pro golfer and revered swing coach, but when I meet him, he is just one more person telling me I’m not good enough.
So, I do what any girl in my position would do. I tell him to get lost and take his arrogant, annoying smirk with him. I never expect to see him again. I certainly don’t expect to run into him that same night after one too many tequila shots.
Turns out that he’s kind of a big deal. Okay, fine, a really big deal. In fact, he might be the one person who can take my game to the next level.
Convincing him to help will be difficult.
Not throwing my club at his handsome face when he makes me work harder than I thought humanly possible will be excruciating.
But not falling for him will be the hardest thing of all.
Rebecca Jenshak is a self-proclaimed margarita addict, college basketball fanatic, and Hallmark channel devotee. A Midwest native transplanted to the desert, she likes being outdoors (drinking on patios) and singing (in the shower) when she isn’t writing books about hot guys and the girls who love them.
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary romance novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate but can’t help to love.
A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow and her mind scattered in too many different directions.
Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Kristy has sold over one and a half million copies of her books across eighteen different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over thirty times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by the streaming platform, Passionflix, with the first movie (Driven) out now.
With her imagination always in overdrive, she is currently scheming, plotting, and swooning over her latest hero. You can find out more about him or chat with Kristy on any of her social media accounts.
BREAKING NEWS: The Bad Boy of Baseball, Maddox Paige, is totally and utterly whipped.
Okay, that might not be the headlines in the newspaper this morning, but it’s the reality of my current situation.
It all started a month ago when I received a call from my best friend, Kinsley. She got a new job in Chicago and needed a place to stay. I’ve known the girl since I was five, what harm would it be to have her stay at my place for a while?
Ha! Total disaster.
Now instead of going out every night with my teammates, I’m couch surfing and sketching endless photos of my best friend . . . but that’s the least of my concerns.
The disaster, you ask? I’m rapidly falling head over cleats in love with my best friend, my roommate, and my number one fan.
And she has no idea . . .
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.