Patrick
That hair. That fucking hair. It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull. And that would be fine if she wasn't my apprentice.
Andy Asani was nothing like I expected. She was exotic and scary-brilliant, and the slightest murmur from those lips sent hot, hungry lust swirling through my veins. Outside my siblings, she was the only person I could name who shared my obsession with preserving Boston's crumbling buildings.
Andy
My wants were few: good eats, tall boots, hot yoga, interesting work. One incredibly hot architect with the most expressive hazel eyes I ever encountered and entirely too much talent in and out of the bedroom wasn't part of the original plan. Apparently he was part of the package.
Wine was my rabbi and vodka was my therapist, and I needed plenty of both to survive my apprenticeship. Especially with Patrick Walsh leaving love notes in the form of bite marks all over my body.
EXCERPT:
"You've been staring at me for two hours." Andy crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the sink. It was an observation delivered with the same tenor she used to order an iced green tea. Lemon, no sweeteners.
God, I wanted her. I wanted all of her, and I knew at that moment I'd give up most anything to get out of my Bermuda Triangle and have her.
"Yeah, I was wondering…did you decide if you have room in your weekend for fried clams?"
"I don't know yet."
"When will you know?" I asked.
"When you tell me why you have me under surveillance."
I glanced at the expanse of bare skin from the plunging neckline of her sweater up to her jaw, and I remembered the way her body reacted to my teeth on her ear. Setting my beer bottle down, I pushed away from the wall and approached Andy until we were a breath apart.
I shrugged. "I stare because you don't give me much else." My knuckles grazed her upper arm and I waited for her to push me away or tell me to stop.
"You walked away from me," she said hotly, her head cocked.
That's how she saw it? Fantastic.
I lifted my hands to her face and kissed her, pouring all of my frustration and misery and desire into the tangle of our lips. I tasted the tart cherriness of Andy. My hands went to her hair, angling her head to take more, taste more, tell more. I needed her to know everything I wasn't able to put into words, all the things I couldn't explain or understand myself.
It wasn't enough to weave my fingers through her hair and consume her mouth. I wanted her skin in my hands. Her waist was slim and silken where my fingers kneaded her beneath her sweater. She must have craved the same contact because her fingers slipped between my sweater and shirt. As she pried open the buttons of my shirt, her touch was a searing reminder of what I missed this past week.
Breaking our connection, I gazed into Andy's heated eyes and smiled when I saw her beautiful and flustered. She was different, at once dark and light, and a warm flush hinted at her cheeks.
"There you are," I whispered, my hands framing her face, my thumbs stroking her delicate cheekbones.
God, I wanted her. I wanted all of her, and I knew at that moment I'd give up most anything to get out of my Bermuda Triangle and have her.
"Yeah, I was wondering…did you decide if you have room in your weekend for fried clams?"
"I don't know yet."
"When will you know?" I asked.
"When you tell me why you have me under surveillance."
I glanced at the expanse of bare skin from the plunging neckline of her sweater up to her jaw, and I remembered the way her body reacted to my teeth on her ear. Setting my beer bottle down, I pushed away from the wall and approached Andy until we were a breath apart.
I shrugged. "I stare because you don't give me much else." My knuckles grazed her upper arm and I waited for her to push me away or tell me to stop.
"You walked away from me," she said hotly, her head cocked.
That's how she saw it? Fantastic.
I lifted my hands to her face and kissed her, pouring all of my frustration and misery and desire into the tangle of our lips. I tasted the tart cherriness of Andy. My hands went to her hair, angling her head to take more, taste more, tell more. I needed her to know everything I wasn't able to put into words, all the things I couldn't explain or understand myself.
It wasn't enough to weave my fingers through her hair and consume her mouth. I wanted her skin in my hands. Her waist was slim and silken where my fingers kneaded her beneath her sweater. She must have craved the same contact because her fingers slipped between my sweater and shirt. As she pried open the buttons of my shirt, her touch was a searing reminder of what I missed this past week.
Breaking our connection, I gazed into Andy's heated eyes and smiled when I saw her beautiful and flustered. She was different, at once dark and light, and a warm flush hinted at her cheeks.
"There you are," I whispered, my hands framing her face, my thumbs stroking her delicate cheekbones.
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MY IMPRESSIONS OF THIS BOOK:
The Walsh family is back in this second installment in the series about a close knit group of siblings tainted by the pain their father heaped on them from the moment their mother died in front of them until the day he died. It's left each of them doubtful of their abilities to love and be loved and it's a struggle of extreme emotions for them to reach their HEA in this nicely paced story with lots of steamy encounters.
Patrick is an intense man who doesn't tolerate those who can't keep up with him. He likes to control all facets of work and home life but is thrown for a loop by the first woman to truly challenge him. The only trouble is is that she's the new intern and having a relationship with the boss might jeopardize her career. Patrick tries to fight his attraction but through lunches and thought-provoking conversation he becomes more obsessed with her. Friendship slowly morphs into flirty texts and when one drunken night turns sensual there's no going back for either of them. Patrick never saw himself as the marrying kind but each touch and glance has him longing for more until gossip and misunderstandings ruins the deep connection they've created. Will Patrick finally become his own man or will the ghost of his father keep him forever alone?
This was an enjoyable story from start to finish with immensely likable and larger than life characters. The dialogue between Patrick and Andy, as well as Patrick and his siblings, was rapid fire and playful and often put a smile on my face. The sexual tension between Patrick and Andy was obvious from the moment they met and got increasingly hotter to make for a crackling and deep-seated connection between them. At story's end the highlight is on family and their playful and argumentative interactions that were endearing and have me excited for future installments as each of the remaining siblings has issues to deal with. Ms. Canterbary has crafted an entertaining series with realistic familial interactions and I highly recommend it to readers who like stories full of colorful characters and steamy romance!
My rating for this is an A-
*I got this book from the author for review in exchange for my honest opinion.
PREVIOUS BOOK IN THE SERIES........
If I had known I'd have a hot architect balls deep inside of me before the end of the weekend, I'd have made time for a pedicure.
Lauren
It's all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos.
After I met Matthew Walsh.
I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming.
Lauren
It's all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos.
After I met Matthew Walsh.
I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming.
Matthew
A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and woven through too many good girl layers to count, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do.
Unless, of course, she was naked.
She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.
Sometimes the universe conspires to bring people together. Other times, it throws people down a flight of stairs and leaves them in a bruised and bloodied heap.
Unless, of course, she was naked.
She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.
Sometimes the universe conspires to bring people together. Other times, it throws people down a flight of stairs and leaves them in a bruised and bloodied heap.
AUTHOR INFO:
Kate doesn't have it all figured out, but this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most problems, living on the ocean--Pacific or Atlantic--is the closest place to perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and surreptitiously interviewing people—be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane—ever since. Kate lives on the water in Rhode Island with Mr. Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn't writing sexy architects, she's scheduling her days around the region's best food trucks.
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