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The Brides of Blueberry Cove #2
Released Sept 29th, 2015
Interior designer Fiona McCrae has left fast-paced Manhattan to move back home to peaceful Blueberry Cove. But she’s barely arrived before she’s hooked into planning her big sister Hannah’s Christmas wedding—in less than seven weeks. The last thing she needs is for her first love, Ben Campbell, to return to neighboring Snowflake Bay…
As kids, Fiona was the bratty little sister Ben mercilessly teased—while pining after Hannah. But Fi never once thought of Ben like a brother. And that hasn’t changed. Except Fi is all grown up. Will Ben notice her now? More importantly, with her life in a jumble, should he? Or might the romance of the occasion, the spirit of the season, and the gifts of time ignite a long-held flame for many Christmases to come…
Something old might just become something new…
This was a funny and charming read. I just love the name Blueberry Cove. Sounds like that type of place you'll want to live right. This isn't necessarily a Christmas read as it's only mentioned several times but it is the type of book for those you love the romance genre. The main characters are likable and the flow is good. This is a one to two sitting read. From the setting to the dialogue it keeps your attention.
USA Today bestselling author of the Cupcake Club Romance series, Donna Kauffman has seen her books reviewed in venues ranging from Kirkus Reviews and Library Journal to Entertainment Weekly and Cosmopolitan. She lives just outside of DC in the lovely Virginia countryside, where she is presently trying to makeover her newly empty nest into something that doesn’t have to accommodate piles of sports equipment falling out of her coat closet (okay, out of every closet...and under every bed....), size 13 cleats and sweaty uniforms cluttering her foyer (and stairwell, and laundry room, and...), and a kitchen that should have come with a traffic light. And a pantry monitor. (Anyone with a clever idea on how to repurpose lacrosse sticks into matching reading lamps, she’s all ears!) When she’s not stripping paint, varnishing an old auction house find, or trying to avoid bodily injury with her latest power tool purchase, she loves to hear from readers!
Want a taste? Here you go...
At the moment, however, he looked sincerely happy to see her. That shouldn’t have made her knees knock. Or her thighs clench.
“I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said.
“That makes two of us,” she said, thinking that her heart had to be pounding against her chest so hard, if she looked down, she’d surely see a cartoon version of it pumping out through her coat. Her fireplug red, down-filled coat.
Her karma clearly didn’t include things like having the sexier-than-ever Ben Campbell reenter her life when she had on cute yoga pants and was in some innocent but super suggestive pose that had him immediately wondering why in the hell he’d never noticed her before.
“You, uh …” He made a brief motion toward her mouth, and then that gleaming white grin flashed. “Either you’ve been slimed by your scarf, or you have a very unfortunate fungal issue. Either way—” He reached past her to nimbly snag a napkin from the holder she’d half buried under her satchel. “Here,” he said, offering it to her.
Aaaaand humiliation complete. Forever thirteen. Ah well, what the hell. Might as well own it. She tugged off her gloves with her probably wool-coated teeth, then took the proffered napkin. “Thanks,” she said, and turned to put her gloves on the marble countertop and do the best she could without benefit of a mirror to de-fungi herself. Turning back around, she crumpled the napkin in her hand and gave him a wry smile. “Better?”
“Mostly,” he said.
She went stock-still again when, teasing grin still firmly in place, he stepped closer, bowed his head, and gazed ever-so-intently at her mouth. She had no idea how her legs held her upright as every one of her adolescent fantasies came screaming back to mind, but in a far—far—more adult fashion. Surely, he couldn’t mean to—
He brought his hand up—not to cup her cheek so he could lower his lips to hers—but to pluck away the few remaining fibers that still clung to her lips.
What did it say that the tips of his fingers brushing her lips elicited a far greater response from her body than the last man she’d actually gotten naked with? Nothing positive, she was sure. About her, or about poor, couldn’t-find-an-erogenous-zone-if-it-was- staring-him-in-the-face Charlie. Which, sadly for them both, one rather universally well-known zone had been.
“Now you’re good,” he said, smiling again as he stepped back.
No, not really, she thought. But you sure are. She swallowed against a throat that was suddenly a dry wasteland, while other parts of her were … decidedly not. Oh, so, very, very good.
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