Krystyna lives in somewhere USA with her amazingly awesome husband. Though she works full time, blogs, and reads like a maniac, she still manages to find the time to write all her crazy stories.
Her hobbies include baking, skydiving, karaoke, and general mischief. The list of her favorite authors is endless, so rather than singling out anyone particular, she'll just mention her number one go-to cookie is oatmeal raisin.
THE VIRGIN RULE BOOK
(Rules of Love #1)
by Lauren Blakely
Release Date: April 16th
THE VIRGIN RULE BOOK, a sexy, friends-to-lovers standalone sports romance from #1 New York Times bestseller Lauren Blakely, is AVAILABLE NOW!
Things you don't want to miss:
⚾️ Sexy times in a limo
⚾️ A hot athlete in and OUT of a tux
⚾️ Naughty jokes, flirty vibes, & brand-new dirty word combos
⚾️ A hilarious, confident, & caring heroine
⚾️ One swoony elevator scene
Don't miss getting your hands on this smoking hot hero and his smart, stunning woman for the amazing release day price of $2.99 in eBook! But hurry because the price goes up TODAY!
Blurb
A sexy, brother's best friend sports romance from # 1 New York Times bestseller Lauren Blakely!
Let
me make a few things clear. I didn’t go to the wedding intending to
dance with the best man, to dare him to show me a very sexy pic on his
phone, or to accidentally kiss him in the hotel elevator after the
reception ended.
But you know how it goes. Things just happen at weddings...
The
next day, Crosby and I agree to put all those shenanigans behind us.
The fun-loving, stupidly gorgeous, all-star baseball player might be my
brother’s best friend, but he’s my friend too and has been for years, so
it’s easy to move on, especially because I have a high-profile business
to run.
But
since he’s newly single and I’m always single, it turns out we both
desperately need plus ones. We agree to “publicly date” over the next
two weeks of galas, parties and events before his baseball season
begins.
The only trouble is the more time I spend with Crosby, the more I keep imagining how much I want him to take my V-card.
And when I broach the possibility with Crosby, his answer surprises the hell out of me.
My Review
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Price goes up today so hurry hurry!
AVAILABLE NOW!!!
✦ Kindle ✦ Apple ✦ Kobo ✦ BN ✦ Google ✦ Audible ✦
(Narrated by Erin Mallon & Teddy Hamilton)
About Lauren Blakely
A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. She also writes red-hot, sexy romance and USA Today bestselling LGBTQ romance.
With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, with more than 50 titles on the USA Today Bestsellers list alone. She’s sold more than 4 million books. She likes dogs, cake and show tunes.
Connect w/Lauren
✦ Website ✦ NL Signup ✦ Facebook ✦ Instagram ✦ Twitter ✦
I really picked the wrong time to read this book. But in my defence, I didn't realise that until I was about 30% in and by then I had to finish it. Because if I put a book down, even if it is a good book, I can't come back to it, I don't know why my brain just won't let me. So, I pushed on and read the book, in the middle of school holidays, with a house full of kids. And I was entirely distracted the whole time.
I have this issue where I know the book was good, I enjoyed the book. I liked the characters, but I feel like I didn't connect with it like I ordinarily would have. I kind of hate myself, but I also know it would have been the same no matter what I read. And at least with this story it was relatively drama free and just a fun, happy read. So, I didn't miss out on all the emotions, I just feel like I would have enjoyed it better next week.
Nadia and Crosby were both great characters who, although I couldn’t really relate to them, I liked. They had their own quirks that made them interesting, and I had a good laugh at their banter. The chemistry was so hot and there were a few scenes in there that I was fanning my face so the kids wouldn’t notice my blush. I liked the secondary characters and I love knowing that there are a heap of stories there, both told and still to come, that I can read when the mood hits me for a hot, drama free read.
Hearing the disbelief from my best friend's mouth makes the events of my failed date sting that much more.
I would like to make it known, I have a lot more swagger than what it seems. I don't normally ask a girl out, have her fail to recognize it's a date, and then give me a high five--as if I'm her wingman--and take off with someone else.
No. Normally I'm the one taking the girl home but with Stella, it's been one failed attempt after another and frankly, I'm done trying.
But thanks to my best friend getting married in Hawaii right before the school year starts, I'm stuck on a tropical island, watching Stella parade around in what she claims is a bathing suit.
Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it, just the tip of the iceberg. Because what I think is going to be a relaxing vacation, avoiding the one girl I can't seem to make it work with, has turned into a spectacle of being recruited as Stella's doting fake fiancé so she can save face with an old "friend" from high school.
Now I'm navigating through purgatory while trying not to get turned on by the way she holds my hand or kisses my jaw. It's all fake, that's what I keep telling myself, even though it feels entirely too real.
“What? Fuck, no,” I say while turning up the game so I can hear the announcers over my tedious, wedding-planning best friend.
Arlo snatches the remote from my hand and turns off the TV. The room is silent for a moment before uproarious objections fill the air.
“Gentry is up next,” Gunner, my other best friend and former teammate, complains from next to me. “He’s three for three so far.”
“We need to talk,” Arlo says in that stern, alpha-like voice that won over his fiancée. Little does he know it doesn’t work on me.
I reach for the remote but he swats my hand with a resounding thud, causing me to yank my hand back. “What the actual fuck, man?”
When I decided to have the guys over to my loft, I assumed we’d tear up some wings, drain some brews, and watch the Bobbies game. Never in my wildest fucking dreams would I have pictured Arlo Turner, the grumpy curmudgeon of the Forest Heights English department, to roll in like a beaming bride, holding a wedding planning folder to his chest, and consume the night with questions about what he should wear and if coconut cake is too “Hawaiian-y” for his Maui destination wedding.
But here we are.
“Cut the crap, Romeo.”
“Cut what crap?” I reach over to the coffee table and pick up my almost empty glass of beer.
“I’m not about to have the Bickersons attend my wedding, so what the hell is going on with Stella?”
“Nothing is going on,” I answer, then take a small sip of my beer, making the liquid last so I don’t have to get up for a refill.
Gunner leans in and asks, “If we get to the bottom of the problem, can we turn the TV back on?”
“Yes,” Arlo answers.
“Then it was the baseball game he took her to.”
“Dude,” I say in protest while sitting up on the couch. “What the fuck happened to don’t say anything?”
Gunner unapologetically shrugs. “I really want to watch the Bobbies kill the Rebels in interleague play.”
“What baseball game?” Arlo asks. “Do you mean the game you took her and Cora to?”
“Yup.” Gunner pops a chip in his mouth from the bowl on the coffee table. “Except Cora wasn’t supposed to go. It was supposed to be a daaate,” Gunner drags out.
“You asked Stella out?” Arlo asks, shocked.
“Way to sell me out for a game, you dick.”
Not showing an ounce of remorse, Gunner stands from the couch and takes my glass from me.
“I’ll top you off. You’ll need it.”
Seething, I pass my hand over my head and say, “Yeah, I asked her out. She invited Cora. End of story.”
“That’s not the end of the story,” Gunner says from the kitchen, the open concept of my loft allowing his voice to carry to us easily.
When you think a friend is trustworthy and then they go and shock your fucking nuts right off by divulging everything you told them in secret . . . without even a blink of an eye. Gunner is dead to me.
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t say anything to Arlo about what happened, given he’s one of my best friends, right? It’s simple. Gunner got me drunk and I relished in the comfort of far too many cold beers and a listening ear. If it wasn’t for that, I’d have kept my mouth shut, because the entire incident was fucking humiliating.
Between you and me, I’ve liked Stella Garcia, the Spanish teacher at Forest Heights, for a while now. Far too long actually. I can’t quite pinpoint when it happened, but all I know is over the three years I’ve known her, I’ve been pining after the girl for the majority of the time.
Fucking bold, quick-witted with a sharp tongue, loves sports, shy when it counts. Flat-out gorgeous with her long, wavy brown hair and fascinating green eyes that have a ring of brown around the pupil. She’s had my attention for a while and last year, I decided to finally make a move.
Enough was enough. We shared too many dinners together as friends. She’s pressed her lips to my beer glass without a second thought way too many times. The moment presented itself, I grew a pair, and asked her out to a baseball game knowing she loves watching the sport as much as I do.
But fuck did it backfire.
“What’s the end of the story?” Arlo asks, growing agitated. His patience runs thin, which is surprising, given his profession of educating the youth.
He’s not going to drop it.
Arlo’s relentless when he wants to know something.
Dragging my hand down my face, I say, “It was supposed to be a date.” Gunner sits next to me and hands me my refilled glass, which I gladly take. “She invited Cora. Which was fine. We had a good time, I still sat next to Stella, and we shared jokes even if there was a third wheel. But it was what happened afterwards that—”
“That gutted him,” Gunner finishes for me. When I snap a look at him, he smirks. “That’s what you told me. Just thought I’d help tell the story.”
“I wasn’t gutted.”
Maybe I was a little.
Hell . . . I was humiliated.
Gutted isn’t a strong enough word for what happened.
“What the fuck happened after? Christ. Why are you taking so damn long to get to the point?” Arlo practically growls.
“Go easy on our guy.” Gunner grips my shoulder. “He was embarrassed, man.”
“It’s fine, I’m over it now,” I say in a passive-aggressive tone.
“You’re clearly not if you and Stella can’t even be in the same room together. I don’t want anything ruining this trip for Greer, and your constant arguing with Stella is driving everyone fucking crazy.”
“Great, then I just won’t talk to her. Simple.”
“Just tell him,” Gunner says, nudging me.
Christ.
Staring down at my beer, I quietly say, “She went home with someone else that night.”
The room falls silent.
They don’t have to react for me to know what they must be thinking. They know I’ve liked Stella for a while. They know I’ve been trying to figure out a way to ask her out.
And this . . . hell, this was an epic fail on my end.
It wouldn’t be as bad if I weren’t already carrying a chip on my shoulder about the way I was forced to twist my life around.
Five years ago, everything changed.
Five years ago, I was stripped of the one thing that brought me life.
A ruptured Achilles tendon ended everything for me.
I never got the chance to appreciate my last game.
I never had the opportunity to sit on the field and say goodbye.
Instead, playing professional baseball was stripped from me and I was forced to fall back on my teaching degree I earned while playing in college.
To say I’m bitter, resentful, and fucking angry . . . yeah, that’s an understatement.
I live with regret daily and harbor more animosity than anyone should.
So, when I took Stella to the game, on a date, hoping to tell her how I feel, and she went home with someone else, it fucking stung.
Do you know what stung more, though?
The fact that she looked right past me and instead went for a rookie on the Bobbies.
Why go out with a washed-up baseball player turned phys ed teacher with a slight limp in his walk, when you can go out with an unmarred professional baseball player?
Yeah. There’s resentment for a reason. She chose the star. That’s who she wants.
That’s who I’ll never be.
And that’s why I plan on staying as far away from Stella Garcia on this trip as I can.
And when we get back to Chicago and the school year starts, everything will go on as planned.
Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
Too easy, right?
Bombshells
RELEASE DATE: APRIL 13, 2021
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣'𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚! 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙡𝙮𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘼𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝘽𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢…
This is my last chance to ditch my playboy reputation and finally fulfill my potential. So I’ve made three rules for our biggest season yet: no boozing, no women, and no scandals.
Especially that last thing.
So who do I befriend on the very first day back at the rink? An amazing female hockey player. I want Sylvie in a way that’s more than just friendly. I crave her. But I have a championship to win, and so does she.
Then she gets her heart broken by my teammate, and I make the foolish mistake of comforting her in the best way I know how. Our night together sets off a string of sins.
Nobody can know about our affair, especially my overprotective teammate. I can’t let anyone see into my greedy little heart. Not even her.
The things I want from her, and the things we’ve already done? If anyone knew, there’d be bombshells.
MY REVIEW
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EXCERPT
Long after daylight arrives, I lay stretched out in my bed, my eyes shut, fighting off the reality of morning.
My thighs ache, probably from yesterday’s workout. But I’m also deliciously sore in some places I didn’t know I could be sore.
Behind my shuttered eyelids, the night isn’t over yet. If I stay in this dreamlike place, I can relive each thrill that Anton gave me. Each stroke of his magic hands across my bare skin.
As first times go, I realize I’ve hit the jackpot. His obvious skill and devotion to female pleasure make me a very lucky girl.
But that wasn’t last night’s biggest surprise. It wasn’t just the thrills and chills. It was the heady emotional journey that we seemed to take together. His kisses tasted as hungry as mine. His touch was reverent, his words desperate.
Maybe it’s all in my head. A girl can imagine a deep connection that isn’t really there.
I’m a pro at that, actually.
But it felt so real. Even after the last groan and gasp had passed, Anton’s kisses didn’t stop. As I floated down from the extreme high of sexual pleasure, his lips continued to trace my neck, and gentle hands smoothed over my hips and down my back.
That part—the aftermath—was just as beautiful to me. I’d never wanted it to end.
Eventually, he’d gotten up to visit my bathroom. I’d heard him running the sink and washing up. Then I’d braced myself for his departure. His team began an eight-day road trip this morning. It’s not like he had a lot of extra time to share.
But he hadn’t thrown on his clothes and left. Instead, he’d come back to the bed, straightening out the covers we’d tossed around during our sex fest.
Then he’d lifted the covers and slid in beside me.
Feeling blessed, I’d rolled to meet him in the middle, where strong arms wrapped me into the sweetest embrace.
We hadn’t spoken much. I’d felt too dreamy for casual conversation. And I don’t know what I would have found to say besides wow and thank you and please feel free to do that again.
My silence had also prevented me from blurting out the news that the whole experience had been a first for me. That’s nobody’s business but mine. And Anton doesn’t need the burden of dealing with my strange life choices.
I didn’t want him to know, because it would have changed everything. He didn’t baby me. His brand of aggressive, bossy, emotional lust was a real eye-opener.
But only metaphorically, because I refuse to open my eyes.
Although I’d already cheated once, when I’d rolled over to discover that Anton had left me a note—short and sweet and just as perfect as our night together.
Sylvie—you are a sleeping beauty. There aren’t words to describe last night. Except maybe “Wow.” I will call you tonight. —A.B.
And there was a smiley face. When I’d read the note, that smiley face had matched my own.
“Sylvie,” comes Fiona’s voice through the door, followed by a knock. “Are you still in bed?”
“Yes. So?” I cover my eyes with one arm, as if the extra barrier could prevent the day from arriving.
“Get up. We have to go to brunch.”
I search my memory for anything related to brunch and come up empty. “Why? Shouldn’t you be at work?” I stretch lazily.
“It’s Sunday. Get up. You have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed.”
“Or else?” I do not understand the urgency.
“Or else I will combust from all the questions I have for you.”
Uh-oh. Fiona seems to know that I wasn’t alone in my bedroom last night. Maybe she heard Anton leave. But I’m not about to tell the whole team about my wild night. “It’s just going to be you and me at brunch, right?”
“If you don’t get up, I’ll start inviting other people.”
“No!” I throw off the comforter. “Fine. I’m getting up.”
