LOVE ON THE TRACKS
by Tamsen Parker
SMP Swerve
Publication Date: December
5, 2017
ISBN: 9781250153401 Price:
$3.99
Description
Welcome to the Snow and Ice Games where the
competition is fierce and the romance is HOT.
Rowan
Andrews is the unexpected darling of the Denver Snow and Ice Games. Luge has
never captured the American public’s imagination as much as figure skating or
even hockey, but her outsized personality and dare-devil ways have got
everyone’s eyes glued to the track. Including a certain chart-topping
heartthrob.
Zane Rivera
is the lead singer of License to Game, the hottest band in the country. When
Zane finds out Rowan Andrews has had some complimentary things to say about
him, he arranges to meet her while he’s in Denver enjoying the games. And when
a photo of him kissing Rowan on the cheek goes viral, they both see the
advantages of faking a relationship for the publicity.
After
Rowan’s injured in her final race, their relationship starts to feel all too
real to Zane. But is this rock star ready to fall in love?
Buy Links
Author Bios
Tamsen
Parker is a stay-at-home mom by day, USA
Today bestselling erotic romance writer by naptime. Her novella CRAVING
FLIGHT was named to the Best of 2015 lists of Heroes and Heartbreakers, Smexy
Books, Romance Novel News, and Dear Author. Heroes and Heartbreakers called her
Compass series “bewitching, humorous, erotically intense and emotional.” She
lives with her family outside of Boston, where she tweets too much, sleeps too
little and is always in the middle of a book. Aside from good food, sweet
rieslings and gin cocktails, she has a fondness for monograms and subway maps.
She should really start drinking coffee.
Authors Links
Website: http://tamsenparker.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tamsenparker
Twitter: https://twitter.com/tamsenparker
Excerpt
from Love on the Tracks copyright ©
2017 by Tamsen Parker
When I see the now-familiar black
Land Rover idling by the corner, and the rear driver’s side door opens to let
Zane out into the chilly evening, it doesn’t feel so complicated. He smiles at
me, and rubs his bare hands together—guy should invest in some gloves before he
starts going to the outdoor events.
I don’t know where it comes from, but that bold part of me wells up
and swamps all my doubts and insecurities. This is supposed to be fun. I’m
supposed to be having fun. What would be fun would be to kiss the incredibly
good-looking guy who’s smiling at me as though I’m the only person on earth
even though I’m well aware of being trailed by half a dozen photographers.
So I walk right up and lay my mittened hands on his chest and go up
on tip-toe to kiss him. His scruff brushes against my chin, and his lips move
against my mouth, and then his hands are in my hair. My hair. He’s never done that before, and the way his fingers thread
through my hair to sculpt around my head and hold me fast to kiss me . . . I’m
accustomed to adrenaline rushes. Half my life is spent trying to go a fraction
of a second faster and risking my life to do it. There’s not a whole lot that
can beat out hurtling down an icy tunnel and barreling around corners with five
Gs pulling at you, but this might be it.
It’s so stupid. It’s not as if I’ve never been kissed before. But
I’ve never been kissed quite like this. His tongue teases the seam of my lips
and I open for him, wanting him more, wanting more of him. It’s not until I
hear someone say loudly, “Hey, isn’t that Zane Rivera?” that I remember we’re
in public.
Flashes are going off, and I can hear the crowd starting to form
around us. As much as I’d like to keep kissing Zane, we’ve got to get out of
here. He must feel the same way because he doesn’t resist when I break off our
kiss, only lays a hand on my lower back to steady me and then help me into the
Land Rover, waving at the crowd and smiling as he does.
Is this his life? I can handle the attention for concentrated
bursts, but for Zane it may be more like a years-long slog with extra crazy
sauce drizzled on top when they go on tour or to an awards show, or apparently
when they kiss SIG athletes.
Once he’s firmly shut and locked the door and given the driver the
go-ahead, he turns to me. Cups my jaw with a hand and runs his thumb over my
cheek. It’s the sweetest way anyone’s ever touched me and it makes all these
gooey romantic feelings drip out of my heart and spread through my whole body.
“You okay, Row? You look a little shell-shocked.”
That’s how I feel. Or like game being chased by a pack of
well-trained hounds. Yeah, I suppose it is open season on us right now. I’m so
unsettled, I can’t even really enjoy that he called me Row, just like I’d
fantasized he would. “I’m okay, I’m not used to . . .” I wave to the people still
crowding the car, trying to snap pictures with their cellphones and long-lensed
cameras through the tinted glass. “This.”
Zane’s hand falls away from my face, and I wish he would put it
back. Instead, he reaches over and buckles my seatbelt before tucking me under
his arm—well, as far as the seatbelt will allow. “I don’t think people ever get
used to it. At least the people I know don’t. Sick of it, yeah, but it’s always
shocking, always makes me tense up, you know?”
He shivers, probably in an exaggerated way to make me feel better.
It does. And the way he called me Row, which I’m getting to relish while
replaying it in my head. That’s the first time, but I hope it won’t be the
last.
“Still want to go to the movie?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
He smiles that charming smile and it makes me wonder how many girls
he’s smiled at like this before. Probably a million. He’s only picked me to
smile at for now because it’ll sell him some records. Well, that’s fine. We can
have fun while we play the media.
“Me too.”
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