Release Day! Cold Hearted, a Sexy New Sports Romance by Winter Renshaw

Release Day Banner for Cold Hearted, by Winter Renshaw

 

 

I wish I could say our meeting was happenstance.

I wish I could say we took one look and we just knew.

I wish I could say falling for him was the best thing that ever happened to me.

But none of that would be true.

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world titles. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn’t know it, but I knew all about him.

I knew why he was so bitter and angry.

I knew why he was so coldhearted.

But I didn’t know why I allowed myself fall in love with him, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop…even when he told me to.

And that’s when everything changed.
“How do you know where I am?” I ask.
“You called me last night, remember?” My former college roommate answers, huffing into the phone.
I rest my elbows against the counter, hunched forward. “No. I don’t remember anything about last night.”
“Not surprising. You never could hold your liquor,” she says, sighing. “Plus you said you were drinking Jäger, and you always do stupid shit when you drink Jäger. You should probably check your phone and make sure you didn’t call any ex-boyfriends.” She coughs. “Ethan.” She coughs again. “Noah.”
Shit. She’s probably right. She knows me well.
“Anyway, I’ll be there innnnn about five minutes,” Bostyn says.
I hang up with her and check my call history with suspended breath, breathing easy when I see there are no Ethans or Noahs in my call history. It never fails. I get drunk–I drunk dial ex-boyfriends. I’m a sentimental, gushing idiot when I’ve had too much to drink, and the alcohol always makes me temporarily forget all the reasons we didn’t work out, even if those reasons were rock solid.
Pulling up Safari on my phone, I check my web history as well because I’ve been known to do a bit of drunk-emailing in my day, though I suppose that comes with the whole writer territory. My agent tells me I’m the only person she knows who drunk–emails people, but I don’t believe her. There are more of us out there, I just know it.
Within seconds, I’m able to confirm the contents of my Google search history seem about right.

What time is in Los Angeles right now?
What time does Starbucks open tomorrow?
Starbucks + Lexington Avenue + NYC
How many calories are in a venti very berry hibiscus refresher?
Starrbuckks vs Dean and Delluucca who is better?
Turtle meeme
Turtle memee
Turrtle meme
Funny turtle memes
Baby sea turtle gif
Is there actual deer blood in Jägermeister?
Rhett Carson
Rhett Carson + New York Spartans
Rhett Carson hockey player
Are pet sloths legal?
Rhett Carson girlfriend
How tall is Rhett Carson?
Rhett Carson biography
Rhett Carson photos

Well, fuck. Drunk me must’ve been doing a bit of research last night. I chuff and place my phone back on the charger. I have zero recollection of any of that. I wonder if I found anything good? Or what the hell made me so curious that I had to dig up everything I could about this poor man?

 

 

 

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here —> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j
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Teaser Tuesday Treat: Pucked Off, by Helena Hunting – Coming Soon!

Pucked Off

by Helena Hunting

Publication Date: February 21st, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Sports Romance

 

About PUCKED OFF…

Book Cover, Pucked Off by Helena Hunting*** Pucked Off is a Standalone novel in The Pucked Series***

I’m NHL defenseman Lance Romero, AKA Lance “Romance.”

I’m notorious for parties and excess. I have the most penalty minutes in the league. I get into the most fights. I take the most hits. I’m a player on and off the ice. I’m the one women with no inhibitions want.

Not because I like the notoriety, but because I don’t know how to be any other way.

I have secrets. Ones I shared with the wrong person, and she used them against me. Sometimes she still does. I should cut ties. But she makes it difficult, because she’s the kind of bad I deserve.

At least that’s what I believed until someone from my past gets caught up in my present. She’s all the good things in this world. She lights up my dark.

I shouldn’t want her.

But I do.

I should leave her alone.

But I won’t.

Teaser photo and quote from Pucked Off by Helena Hunting

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Meet Helena Hunting

NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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Cold Hearted – A NEW Hockey Romance by Winter Renshaw: Excerpt Reveal!

 

 

Coming January 31st

 

 

Book Cover, Cold Hearted, Winter Renshaw
I wish I could say our meeting was happenstance.

I wish I could say we took one look and we just knew.

I wish I could say falling for him was the best thing that ever happened to me.

But none of that would be true.

Rhett Carson was as cold as the ice on which he skated. He was as calloused as the hands that shot the goals that won world titles. He was also damaged. And broken. And he didn’t know it, but I knew all about him.

I knew why he was so bitter and angry.

I knew why he was so coldhearted.

But I didn’t know why I allowed myself fall in love with him, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop…even when he told me to.

And that’s when everything changed.

 

“I should probably get your number,” I say.
He wrinkles his nose. “Why?”
“I don’t know. In case I wind up pregnant or something. You came a lot. And condoms aren’t always one hundred percent.”
His expression turns to ash until he realizes I’m kidding.
“Anyway.” I pull my blouse over my head and fluff my hair around my shoulders. “Thanks for that.”
I’m halfway to the door with my purse over my shoulder when he says, “Thanks for that? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just an expression. What am I supposed to say?” I shrug. If I tell him it was amazing and we should do it again, then it’s going to turn into a thing. A big, ugly, complicated thing that I won’t be able to explain my way out of.
“Nothing,” he says. “Just say nothing. You don’t have to make it all awkward by thanking me for sex. Who does that?”
“I’m sorry. Does that make you feel used?” I hide my chuckle with my hand, and he comes at me with a giant smirk on his face, pressing his hard-as-steel chest against my body until my back’s against the door.
“God, you have a smart mouth.” His hand lifts to my face, and he drags his thumb along my lower lip, his eyes fixated there as if he’s replaying the last thirty minutes in his head.
I’m painfully aware of the fact that our mouths are inches, maybe even mere centimeters apart. If he wanted to kiss me again, I’d let him. I wouldn’t say no. I wouldn’t protest or try to stop him, even though it’d be the right thing to do.
Kissing Rhett feels different from any other man, and I’m not sure if it’s because of his his powerful, complicated aura—or the fact that something so morally, ethically wrong could feel so dangerously good.
I want to ask what he’s doing when our gazes catch. I want to know what this is. And why me? But I know this can never be anything, so asking would be pointless. Besides, more than likely he’s just a horny guy who saw a girl in a bar and decided to go in for the kill.
In my heart of hearts, I know our time together was more about convenience than poetics.
“I should go,” I say, releasing a sheltered breath.
His smirk fades, along with the dimples I’m just now noticing, and his steely gaze darkens.
“Yeah,” he says, as if he’s suddenly drawn the same conclusions but for reasons all his own. “You should.”

 

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

 

And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here —> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j
Author Links