Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly #1)(73)
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The Editor’s Corner
It’s time to go back to school and feed your reader with these fabulous Loveswept romances….
In Laura Marie Altom’s scorching new novel, The Escort, a broken heart pushes a rugged loner to the breaking point—until a not-so-innocent affair changes everything. New York Times bestselling author Kathy Clark keeps the heat on with Deep Night, as two adrenaline junkies find themselves fighting unexpected passion—and unspeakable terror. New York Times bestselling author Missy Johnson’s Code of Honor asks a burning question: What happens when love is undeniable—and taboo? And USA Today bestselling author Lauren Layne’s Blurred Lines delivers a sexy take on the timeless question: Can a guy and a girl really be “just friends”?
Sidney Halston’s scorching new MMA romance Laid Out, proves there are no holds barred when it comes to seduction. In A Fashionable Indulgence, the first novel of an explosive new series from K. J. Charles, a young gentleman and his elegant mentor fight for love in a world of wealth, power, and manipulation. Then meet Megan Crane’s Deacons of Bourbon Street, bad-boy bikers who are hell on wheels—and heaven between the sheets in Make You Burn. New York Times bestselling author Jacquelyn Frank returns with Nightwalker, a pulse-pounding installment in the Nightwalker series. And perfect for Highlander fans, My Highland Bride is where Southern sass meets Highland heat in Maeve Greyson’s scintillating new Highland Hearts romance.
New in Flirt is Just a Little Kiss, the next novel of Renita Pizzitola’s Crush series. Felicity knows that “Summer Boys” are only good for one thing. But what if hooking up with the right guy could lead to a fresh start?
There you have it—until next month, when September is the month to fall in love all over again, with Loveswept.
Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Read on for an excerpt from
Irresistibly Yours
by Lauren Layne
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Cole had been watching the brunette for the better part of three innings.
Which was just wrong on a couple levels.
For starters, it was a rare woman that could come between Cole Sharpe and baseball. Or between Cole and any sport, for that matter.
And at Yankee Stadium in particular, the game came first. Especially a game in which the Yankees and Blue Jays were tied 1–1 in a rivalry for the top spot in the American League East division.
Cole’s eyes should have been glued to the field. Not only because the Yankees were his team—he’d been a die-hard fan since his Little League days—but because Cole was a sportswriter. Come tomorrow morning, Cole would be expected to know the details of every single at-bat.
And yet…
His eyes shifted once more to the narrow figure of the brunette as he took another sip of beer.
There was something about her and yet nothing about her? She was utterly, completely, unremarkable.
And that was the other reason Cole’s fascination with the woman made no sense.
Cole loved women almost as much as he loved sports, but this woman?
Nothing about her demanded a second look. Cole liked ’em curvy, but this one was slim to the point of being skinny. There was no noticeable definition of her waist through her Jeter jersey. No womanly flare of her hips.
Plus, Cole preferred blondes, and this one’s messy ponytail was just a couple shades lighter than black.
As for her face? Well, he hadn’t seen it yet. Not fully. But she’d turned her head only once in the third inning, giving Cole a quick glance at her profile. The upturned nose was cute enough, but the rest of her features were hardly so arresting as to explain why he continued to stare at her.
It took Cole another half inning to realize what it was that had captivated him: For the first time in his life, he was seeing a woman who was more absorbed in a baseball game than he was.
Tiny Brunette, as he’d started thinking of her, hadn’t lost interest in the game once. Even between innings, when the rest of the stadium was refilling on beer and peanuts, she merely scribbled like crazy in a little notebook she kept in her lap.
It was like clockwork. The third out would signal the swap of the players on the field, and Tiny Brunette’s attention would dip toward the damn notebook.
Her left hand would sneak around to twirl her ponytail around a finger while her right hand busily wrote…
What?
What did she write in that notebook? And just why did he want to know so badly?
Normally Cole would just ask. The seat beside Tiny Brunette was free. Everyone else in the suite was there more for the networking and the free food and booze than the game. It would have been so easy just to plop down beside her, strike up a conversation. Flirt.
But for some reason he was hesitant.
Cole told himself it was because he didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was she was so diligently working on, but there was an unfamiliar fear too. The fear of rejection.
Because nothing about this woman signaled that she’d be interested in having a conversation with him.
And that would be a first.
But before Cole could make the call on whether or not to die curious about that damn notebook, or risk rejection by Tiny Brunette, his best friend and co-worker was holding a fresh beer in front of his face.