Marry Me by Mia MonroeMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
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My Fate Is Sealed by Carmen Richter








The first three is the complete Zoe & Elijah love story told from Zoe's perspective, while this beautiful book is the start of Elijah's version of events. I jumped in out of order with [book] and what better place to dive in than by seeing the original storyline (and moment's you couldn't see from Zoe's point of view in My Lips Are Sealed) than right here and right now!


Yep, I was going to the special hell. In the express lane.

"But as much as I want to listen to the voice of reason in my head, I can’t do it. Because I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you make me feel. I’ve never felt this kind of connection to another human being before. And I can’t turn away from it. As stupid and reckless and dangerous as this is, I can’t not be with you. If that’s what you want.”

“And now I know you love this girl. Telling me it’s up to her when you start doing the horizontal happy.”

“Mattress mambo. Bedroom rodeo. Hide the cannoli. Opening the gates of Mordor.”
Opening the gates of Mordor? Well, that was a new one.
“What in the hell are they teaching you at that school?” I teased, chuckling.
“A ton of euphemisms for the word ‘sex,’” she shot back.


Umbridge? She was using Harry Potter characters for code names? Sweet. I’d found another way to distract her. And I was genuinely curious what she was calling me if Megan was Umbridge.
Me: Umbridge? Really? Do I want to know what name you use for me?
She chuckled.
Mimi: No, you really don’t.

Mimi: No, THIS must be what going mad feels like. My mom can’t stop talking about how cute she thinks you are.
I made the mistake of taking a drink of coffee while I was reading the text, and I promptly sprayed it out of my nose and mouth laughing.

"When I first found out she was one of my students, everything in me was telling me that I should tell her to find a different elective to take and get out of my class. But I didn’t have the willpower. Because I fell in love with her the night I met her.”


Jock Blocked by Pippa Grant




Oh, god, baseball forearms.
They’re lethal to women’s panties everywhere, because baseball forearms.

Plus you don’t want to know what the internet is saying about echidna penis. You really don’t.

Adrenaline surges in my veins, and before I can think better of it, I knock his phone away, kick it down the hall, shove him, and yell, “Fiery forever!”
And then I take off at a dead run.

This is the most insane conversation I’ve ever had, and my brother’s married to a woman who knows over a thousand euphemisms for penis and uses them liberally, and my sister’s autocorrected text messages need their own museum.

What happens at the club during curse-breaking stays at the club.

“How is a thing with a four-headed penis family-friendly?”

Tripp chokes on his drink, and the two owners share a secret look.
Dammit.
I want a secret look-sharer. Is that too much to ask?

Opening day should be a federal holiday, especially when opening day happens at home.

“What are you doing here?” I growl.
Yes, me. Mackenzie Montana. Growling at a baseball god.
Do not fuck with my family.

It’s not enough to cock-block him.
I have to make him believe the Fireballs can go all the way.

Dingo Bazookarooka hey macarena.


I might’ve been actively invited to the de-cursing night at spring training—nope, still not telling what we did with the dildo—but I don’t know which of my new teammates is most likely to put bubble gum in my helmet or which one most deserves to have his car parked in center field before a game.

“You want to be a Fireball.”
He shifts his seat to face me again. “I am a Fireball.”
That’s a morning shot of joe straight to my clit. There is nothing sexier that a man could ever say to me. Ever.

I’m in for better.
I mean, not sex better. I still need him to hit a ball. But gah, am I tempted, because he did hit the ball after we masturbated together.
So tempted.

"I love you!"
"Smiling cures everything!"
"You're a winner to me!"
"Are you tired? Because you've been running through my mind all day!"



Hitched by Pippa Grant
This is where I should have a snappy comeback, because I know for a fact that Hope got married first.
But we don’t talk about that.
Ever.

His lordship the trash panda flips me off—I swear he does—and scampers around what’s left of the enclosure, making yogis and goats scream. He tosses aside mats and knocks down more of the fence in his quest for baby carrots, careless of the Zen and property he’s destroying as he literally steals snacks from the mouth of babes.
“George, STOP! Bad raccoon! Bad!”
When did the little beast get so fast?
How is he so fast?
He’s the size of three normal raccoons, but he’s dashing around like he’s half-cheetah, and of course the babies are freaking out in response.


“Your parents love me, boo-boo-cakes,” Blake grits out through his own smile.
Doubtful—also, boo-boo-cakes?—but I beam at him.

My heart is achy and empty, like it’s hit that point in a good romance novel where all is lost, only the author died before she could finish the story. And now the two characters she left behind will live in limbo, in the land where happily ever after never comes.

Blake: She’s the one who demanded the annulment in Vegas, not me. She doesn’t think I’m marriage material, except when she needs something.
Clint: But you went along with it AGAIN, Mr. “Marriage is for Love.” So clearly you see an opportunity here.
Blake: An opportunity to make her as miserable as she makes me.
Clint: Not buying it, bro. You’re secretly hoping it works out.

“Actually, I make love more like a giraffe,” Cara says.

It’ll be fine, they say. No ghosts or demons or blood in the elevators or creepy twins this time around, and absolutely no one will go insane and try to kill you with an ax. They’re probably right, but I’m still not setting foot in that hotel anytime soon. Maybe ever.

Normally, he’s far too lazy and spoiled to actually hunt for his food. But I guess being on an ice chip and cricket diet since his run-in with the peanut butter has made George hangry. And hangry George is actually kinda terrifying.

Do not get between tired Southern mamas and Publix fried chicken on a Friday night. They will run over your feet with their cart and not even bother to bless your heart after.

"To give you what you really need instead of what I think you need, you know? And…listen better and shit.”
She laughs softly. “That’s the most important part, I hear. The ‘and shit’ part.”

“Go on, get,” he says, shooing the would-be cake bandits back toward the gate enclosing the backyard. “I’m serious. Mom and Dad used to raise show wieners. They’ve got a kennel plenty big enough for all of you.”

Only I get to make her moan like that, Mr. Taco.

“Chewpaca. You in, dude?”
Chewy hums and nods.
Hope giggles at their interaction. “I love how normal and down-to-earth your family is.”
“Al-poker!” Mom and Pop cry together, then burst into giggles, making all of us laugh too.

“Well, you were very heroic during the argument part. It was pretty hot.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his chest puffing up, making me laugh.
“Yes. But now you look like a rooster on the verge of a victory strut.”
“I’ll do that when we get home,” he says, wiggling his brows. “Naked. The way god intended.”


