So Over You
by Kate Meader
Chicago Rebels #2
Publication Date: December 4, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Sports Romance
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SYNOPSIS:
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…
Excerpt
“This
little job is the difference between
you playing and not. Dancing with the
Stars, Vaddy baby. It’s where all the washed-up pros end up.”
Annoyed
at his reaction to her, he skated away, throwing out over his shoulder, “I will
be playing, Isobel. You will have no say in that. I spoke with Moretti—it is
clear why you have this job.”
Her
brow crimped. Naturally, it was adorable. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“He
is new and no doubt under pressure to bow to the owners. You can write your own
ticket.”
“If
that’s the case, I’d just appoint myself as head coach and be done with it.”
“You
are also conscious of what the fans and media think, so you are starting small.
Really, you could have
called or texted, Isobel. Buying my contract seems like a lot of work to bring
me back into your world.”
“You weren’t my first choice. But
luckily your poor play this season meant Quebec was happy to offload you.”
He
ignored the brief stab. The last six months had been difficult. Isobel
understood this, yet they could not resist these little cuts.
“I
think you wanted to be closer to me. Just like before, right, Bella?”
A
blush crept up her cheeks on hearing his endearment for her.
He would test her. Make her angry
and emotional. Make her cry. Because angry, emotional criers were not the stuff
of coaches. If she was serious about a career in the NHL, she would hear worse.
She would get him game fit. He
would get her battle ready.
He continued to needle. “Yes, I
think that must be it. It seems that the female owners of the Rebels would like
to abuse their position and use the players for their personal pleasure. Your
sister and Remy DuPre—that is interesting.”
“Is it?”
“Harper may have duped a Rebel
player into her bed, but please don’t imagine you and I will be renewing our
acquaintance in a similar manner.”
That got her attention, at last. Her creamy
skin blazed, her crimson mouth twitched, and even from a distance he could see
those melted-shamrock eyes darken. She looked like she wanted scream at him. Burst into tears. Slap his
face.
Yes, Bella. Let us see if you can handle
the barbs of every player, coach, and fan who will dismiss you. Let us see if
you can handle me.
Fury
powering her stride, she skated over, skidding to a halt mere inches from his
face. As before, she was magnificent.
“You’ve
found me out, Petrov.”
“I
have?”
“It’s
all an elaborate ruse. We bought your contract even though you really haven’t
been performing well this season. Let’s face it, you’ve sucked donkey balls,
Vadikins. But I convinced my sisters that I alone could bring you back to top
condition. Make you a valuable asset to the team. I also made sure I’d be the
only one working with you . . .” She leaned up on the tips of her blades, a
balancing act that required great skill and remarkable ankle strength. Close
enough that he could have slipped his tongue between his lips and tasted hers.
Her
breath was a hot puff of temptation. “So we would have all this alone time.”
With
that fiery gaze, she held his own.
Unerring.
Unflinching.
Until her mouth creased, and she broke into
a laugh. He remembered that laugh. Just as before, it hit him right in the
balls.
She
used the edge of the iPad to poke him in the chest. “You thought I’d go to all
this trouble to try to get into your hockey shorts, Petrov? I’m a team owner—I
can have any of these Rebel boys with the click of my fingers!” She chuckled,
clearly enjoying herself. “Despite
what that supersized ego of yours thinks, the only performance I want from you
is on the ice. Maybe if you spent less time carousing—”
“Carousing?”
“Yes, it’s nicer than calling you a
club-hopping, vodka-sodden manwhore. Less of that and more effort on your day
job, please. And don’t worry yourself that I’m interested in ‘renewing our
acquaintance.’ I’ve had better lays with the Ukrainian delegation at the last
Games.”
He
had to say he enjoyed this sharp-tongued, quick-witted version of Isobel. But not enough to admit it to
her.
“There
is nothing you can teach me.”
“So
sure, Russian.”
“I
am positive.”
“We’ll
see.” She skated back to the edge of the rink. “Again.”
ABOUT KATE MEADER
Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron or a fire hose, and she’s there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary romance with alpha heroes and strong heroines who can match their men quip for quip.
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