Today is release day for DROPPING IN, the first book in the new adult contemporary sports romance series, Snow Crossed Lovers, by Carrie Quest. See below for information on the book and series, buy links, an exclusive excerpt, and details on her giveaway.
About the Book
Title: DROPPING IN
Series: Snow Crossed Lovers #1
Author: Carrie Quest
Release Date: February 8, 2018
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Sports Romance
Links: Goodreads | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
Natalie Berensen has one short summer to ace her writing class and convince her parents she’s not a hopeless screw-up. No more changing her major once a month, taking time off to travel, or random friends-with-benefits. She doesn’t have time for distractions or hook-ups, not even if her longtime crush is in town for the summer and living in her basement. Who cares if he’s a snowboarding god with six pack abs and a hashtag devoted to his apparently magical penis? She’s not interested.
Until she is.
Ben Easton’s focus and self-discipline is legendary. He’s built a career as a professional snowboarder by training harder than anyone else on the mountain and steering clear of anything that doesn’t take him one step closer to his goal: Olympic gold. Then his best friend crashes in the half-pipe and Ben drops everything to take care of him. No more training. No more competitions. No more snowboarding. It’s over.
He’s back in Boulder to help with Adam’s rehab, not fool around with his little sister’s best friend, no matter how much he loves her laugh or the way her ass looks when she walks up the stairs. There’s no way in hell he’s going anywhere near Natalie.
Until he does.
Contains: a grumpy guard cat with a taste for blood, discussions of Ents as phallic symbols, and plenty of sexy times.
Mistake #1: I should have knocked. I know it. But in my defense, it’s only been, like, five minutes since he came down here. I thought he’d be unpacking or something. Not sitting here all hot and shirtless and staring at the intriguingly large hard-on that’s about to bust out of his black boxer briefs.
Mistake #2: Now that I’m here, I should be Usain Bolting my ass up the stairs before he notices me. Instead, I’m stuck in place, my mouth hanging open, perving out at the sight of his naked torso. Because wow. I’ve never written poetry, but I bet if I wrote an ode to Ben Easton’s abs it would win the frickin’ Pulitzer.
And that’s not even mentioning the rest of him.
Like his shoulders, which are broad and strong and make me want to duck under his arm and hide from the world.
And his pecs, which are sculpted like whoa but nowhere near skirting the border of bodybuilder-manboob territory.
And his arms, which are lean and roped with so many muscles that he could hold himself up over me for hours while I writhe underneath him.
And his skin, which is tan and smooth and probably tastes like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. I don’t even like piña coladas, but I still want to lick every single square inch of him while he writhes under me.
And the V of muscle over his hips that points directly to the long, straight, very hard line tenting up his underwear.
That’s currently the part drawing most of my attention.
He sits there on a pile of boxes, leaning back against the wall, one hand clenched on his thigh and the other splayed out on his stomach. His head’s bent down, so I can’t see his face, but he holds himself like he’s weary. Like he’s on the edge of complete exhaustion. I remember the way his face tensed when he saw Piper coming down the stairs, and the way he blinked hard when she mentioned Adam’s name. How he’d hobbled toward his door as soon as she let him go. He’d looked so vulnerable.
Now he just looks sexy as hell. The fingers of the hand on his stomach twitch and my breath hitches. Holy rollers. Then his hand disappears into the waistband of his briefs and he gives himself one long, slow pump, and I can’t help but make a little noise. In my head it’s a moan of longing, but it comes out more like a squeak because I’m smooth like that.
Ben looks up, his eyes meet mine, and he lets me see him, really see him, with no mask. He looks so sad that I take a step toward him, and then another, because when there’s a person sitting in front of you in that kind of pain, you want to help. To offer comfort. Solace.
Maybe a naked full-body hug.
The Snow Crossed Lovers Series:
About the Author
Carrie grew up in Vermont, spent her college years in beautiful Boulder, Colorado, and now lives in New Zealand with her husband, two smallish children, and a gaggle of very badly behaved animals. She writes love stories that will make you laugh and reads enough romance to swoon on the regular. .
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