Publisher: Pocket Star EBooks
Three estranged sisters struggle to sustain their late father’s failing hockey franchise in Kate Meader’s sizzling Chicago Rebels series. In this second entry, middle sister Isobel is at a crossroads in her personal and professional lives. But both are about to get a significant boost with the addition of a domineering Russian powerhouse to the Rebels....
Isobel Chase knows hockey. She played NCAA, won Olympic silver, and made it thirty-seven minutes into the new National Women’s Hockey League before an injury sidelined her dreams. Those who can’t, coach, and a position as a skating consultant to her late father’s hockey franchise, the Chicago Rebels, seems like a perfect fit. Until she’s assigned her first job: the man who skated into her heart as a teen and relieved her of her pesky virginity. These days, left-winger Vadim Petrov is known as the Czar of Pleasure, a magnet for puck bunnies and the tabloids alike. But back then... let’s just say his inability to sink the puck left Isobel frustratingly scoreless.
Vadim has a first name that means “ruler,” and it doesn’t stop at his birth certificate. He dominates on the ice, the practice rink, and in the backseat of a limo. But a knee injury has produced a bad year, and bad years in the NHL don’t go unrewarded. His penance? To be traded to a troubled team where his personal coach is Isobel Chase, the woman who drove him wild years ago when they were hormonal teens. But apparently the feeling was not entirely mutual.
That Vadim might have failed to give Isobel the pleasure that was her right is intolerable, and he plans to make it up to her—one bone-melting orgasm at a time. After all, no player can perfect his game without a helluva lot of practice...
She sat on the bed, yanking off her Joan of Arctic boots while Vadim paced. Back and forth, forth and back, looking up every few seconds to check her progress. Socks off. Another look. Hoodie was history. Another look. Ten seconds between each glance, which meant he was—oh, God—counting off in his head.
She was down to leggings and a tank top.
“Are you going to wear a rut in the carpet, Russian, or a rut in me?”
He stopped, and stabbing his fingers through his hair, spoke with immense effort. “Remove all your clothes immediately.”
“You remove them.”
She swore his erection poked higher in his sweatpants.
“Isobel,” he warned.
“What’s wrong, Vadim? Are you afraid you might get overexcited if you peel off my top and get a bra strap sighting? If your fingers graze my skin, will we start to see little Vadim”—she pointed at not-so-little Vadim, now straining to punch through the thin fabric—“weeping his cockhead off? Worried you’ll blow before you can get me there?”
She’d been teasing him—mercilessly, she now realized—and he was actually concerned. Nice going, dummy.
He continued. “I am currently running my stats from every season starting five years ago.”
“What are you up to?”
“Third year in the NHL. My best season to date.”
With a teasing lick of her lips, she accessed her memory banks. “Thirty-eight goals, 64 assists, 19.5 shooting percentage, 8 game-winning beauties.”
He halted the pacing and faced her with hands on hips, his expression one of lust battling disbelief.
“Did I just turn you on even more, Russian?”
She winked. Evil, thy name is Isobel Chase.
Apparently this was the last straw. “Why are you torturing me? Do you not realize that if I touch you too soon, I cannot be responsible? It will be fast, brutal, lacking in finesse. This time, I promise to make it right for you.”
His admission of vulnerability floored her. To have this power over someone as self-contained as Vadim was both heady and humbling. As for the fast and brutal comment? Slippery warmth gushed between her thighs.
No more games. She gripped the hem of her tank and ripped it off over her head, her nipples tightening against her bra at the blue-fire flare of appreciation in his eyes. Then she stood, turned, and peeled off her leggings.
She might have paused a second just as they cleared her ass. Evil was a good look on her, and let’s face it, she had a pretty great ass. His groan filled the room like a prayer.
Still with her back to him, she finished the strip, and was now left in a black satin bra with red bows and a matching high-cut bikini from Addison William’s Beautiful collection—Isobel loved the complete, but still sexy, coverage of the pieces designed for full-figured women.
By the sounds she was hearing behind her, she guessed Vadim loved it, too.
Kneeling one leg on the bed, she looked over his shoulder to find him—oh yeah—stroking his erection through his sweatpants. The man was a walking god, all sculpted muscle, his body inked to highlight every ridge and plane to perfection. The spot between her thighs got warmer. Wetter.
“You wear this when you are coaching and tempting me with your black pants?”
She had tempted him in her unsexy sweats? “Sometimes. I like to feel sexy.”
“They are—you are—” He placed a hand on her hip, and she sensed both reverence and restraint, but also a heat that burned through everything. “I will make it good for you, I promise.”
He sounded so sincere—too sincere—and something tugged in her chest. A curl of regret.
She opened her mouth to respond, but got distracted when he hooked his fingers in the side of her panties and teased them off in a slow, torturous descent. And if it was this bad for her, it had to be killing him. In this position, she felt more exposed than if she had been facing him.
Leaving her panties at her knees, he traced a hand along the ladder of her spine, then circled her hip to clamp that hand over the juncture of her thighs. Yes. Moving her ponytail aside, he nuzzled her neck and applied whisper-soft kisses to her heated skin. Just like in her car, her hips scouted ahead for pleasure, rocking and rolling. Seeking the hardness of his cock behind her, the grind of his fingers between her legs.
One of those magic digits parted her in a delicious swipe. That stroke shot to every extremity. “You are so wet, Bella.”
She leaned into his touch, needing more, demanding more, he rubbed harder. Impossibly good. She moaned, encouraging him to take control.
Gripping her hip, he turned her over and pushed her back on the bed. Her panties didn’t last, and Vadim lay down beside her, still wearing sweatpants, his erection poking against her thigh. She reached for it, and he swatted her away.
“Not yet, Bella. Let me love you properly first.”
Love? Surely, just a translation hiccup. “Oh—okay.”
His fingers returned to their holy work. “I want to see your eyes.”
In case she faked it, maybe? Now she was starting to doubt. What if she’d placed too much pressure on him, which placed too much pressure on her, and she felt a need to rush them to a conclusion just so they could move past this?
“I know what you’re thinking, Bella.” Those crystalline blue eyes held hers captive, his expression grave.
“I doubt it.”
“You’re thinking that there is a lot of pressure here.” He applied a different sort of pressure with one finger, then two inside her. She accommodated the stretch by arching into the exquisite pleasure.
“There—there is. And I’m worried I’ve set us up to fail.”
His mouth descended onto hers, kissing away all the worries. There was a very excellent chance she was going to come with Vadim Petrov for the first time.
“Tell me what feels good, sexy girl.”
“What you’re doing is fine.”
“Good. So good.” It was, but maybe if he . . .
“Be honest, Bella. Do you need my mouth on your breasts, my tongue in your pussy? Do you need it slow or fast? Hard or soft?”
She inhaled a couple of sharp breaths. His list of all the awesome gifts he could deliver opened her up. “My clit. Go slow. Build to it. Not too fast.” The words gasped from her in staccato bursts, her honesty feeling almost as good his fingers now moving to accommodate her request.
“More like”—she placed his fingers on either side of that sensitive bundle of nerves and guided him to a steady stroke—“this. Avoid my clit until I’m all fired up.”
He smiled, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Let us get you all fired up, Bella.”
So Over You (Chicago Rebels, #2) by Kate Meader
Rosa's rating: 5 of 5 iScream Cones
"Eventually she'd rise above these setbacks, both her crushed ambitions and her ambitious crush."
I was so excited to dive into another installment of the Chicago Rebels series. I happened upon Kate Meador accidentally, enticed by a cover that captured my attention and a synopsis that was too intriguing to pass up. A hockey team owned by three sisters is some entertaining reading and this talented author has earned a fan. Though I'm very anxious to meet the man that takes on the third sister, I'm reluctant for the series to end. It's that good...
Isobel is the middle sister. The closest to a hockey playing son her father could get. She won an Olympic medal but still managed to be a disappointment to him. I can't begin to tell you how much he disappointed me. He had three beautiful, talented, amazing daughters and still wasn't satisfied. Even after he died, he still managed to make them jump through hoops. In spite of his severely lacking parental skills, two of his daughters have a deep love for hockey and desperately want to remain the owners of the team. The third sister is a lot of fun and is being cooperative, but it's not in her blood like the other two. I'm very curious to see if she becomes more involved when we finally get to her book.
Isobel's first assignment as a skating consultant for the team couldn't be more stressful. Of course, it would end up being Vadin "Asshatski" Petrov, the "club-hopping, vodka-sodden manwhore" who once took her virginity as a teen. It's all she can do not to roll her eyes every time she hears him referred to as 'Czar of Pleasure'. Those skills must have been developed over time, or his groupies are lying for the attention. That was certainly not how she would describe their time together.
Vadim is not happy to learn that Isobel has the power to keep him off the ice if he doesn't work with her to improve his skating after a knee injury. It's not that he doubts her skills, because he's seen her compete, and she has the knowledge. No, it's the bad blood between them that developed after they were caught together as teenagers. He paid a high price for his infatuation with the daughter of a man who tolerated no distractions on her path to the National Women's Hockey League.
Neither of them wants to work together. They both have their reasons. But the fact is that he needs her help, and she needs him to perform at peak to save her team. So they come to a grudging truce and put the work in. And when nobody is looking, she observes his sculpted muscles and he admires her heart-shaped ass. The attraction is still there in spite of their best efforts to deny it.
What fun it was to see the arrogant left-wing who dominates on the ice brought down a peg or two when his teenage performance received such low scores. He was determined to prove he had what it took to get back in the game and to melt the ice around Isobel's heart. He owed her some orgasms, and he was keeping score.
I am so glad to see that the estranged sisters are trying to spend time together and get to know each other better. Having the same father and different mothers made it hard when they were growing up. They all wanted to earn their father's love and attention and it was hard to accept when one received it and another didn't. But now that he's gone, there's nothing stopping them from bonding and showing a united front as team owners. Their sarcasm and witty banter are very amusing. I have my fingers crossed that they will learn to love each other and stay close whether they manage to maintain ownership of the Rebels or not.
The author has dropped a few teasers about the upcoming installment Undone by You and I'm very impatient to get my hands on it. Especially since I thought the series would be limited to three books about the only the three daughters, but it's not! Nope, it's about Dante, the sexy GM of the Chicago Rebels. And if we are going there, why not a book for each player on the team, right? Woo Hoo! The line forms here...
“Meader serves up a delicious mix of sports, sexy romance, and complicated, captivating characters with her second Chicago Rebels hockey contemporary (after Irresistible You)…Meader’s erotic scenes could melt ice, and her complex protagonists will keep readers eagerly turning pages.”
—Publishers Weekly (So Over You)
“Things heat up on the ice in Meaer’s latest installment of the Chicago Revels series (Irresistible You, 2017)…Isobel and Vadim’s chemistry is off the charts, and Meader’s engaging details of hockey and Chicago pull you further into their world. Even nonhockey fans will be rooting for the Rebels by the last page.”
—Booklist (So Over You)
“Hockey is a sport that moves a mile a minute, and it’s even more thrilling when the action off the ice has even more speed. In the second Chicago Rebels book, external conflicts make the path to a happy ending difficult for the couple, but that makes it even more satisfying in the end. Meader’s thought-provoking tale has well-rounded characters who touch each other’s lives — sometimes not too gently.”
—RT Book Reviews (So Over You)
“Meader’s strength is creating characters who live, breathe, and jump off the page; Remy and Harper shine, and the supporting cast of characters, including Harper’s half-sisters, is very strong. The mix of sexual tension and emotional decisions will lead Meader’s series launch to many a keeper shelf.”
—Publishers Weekly STARRED REVIEW (Irresistible You, Book 1)
“Meader takes her readers on a breathtaking, non-stop, glorious ride. The sex scenes are lyrically written with fresh, descriptive prose. Enough is included about hockey to add its fast rhythm to the book. Remy’s family is multi-faceted and fills the pages with joy. Readers will love the relationship between Remy and Harper, and will be excited for the next story — Isobel’s.”
—RT Book Reviews Four and a Half Star TOP PICK (Irresistible You, Book 1)
Kate Meader was raised on romance. An Irish girl, she started with Catherine Cookson and Jilly Cooper novels, and spiced it up with some Mills & Boon. Now based in Chicago, she writes romances of her own, where sexy contemporary alpha heroes and strong heroines match each other quip for quip. When not immersed in tales of brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron or a fire hose, Kate lives on the web at katemeader.com.
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