Genre: Chick Lit, Comedy, Romance
Publisher: Totally Bound
Publication Date: January 30, 2018
About Isla Dennes
Today we have the release blitz for Attack Zone by Jennifer Rebecca! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today:
Title: Attack Zone
Author: Rebecca Jennifer
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover by Alyssa Garcia at Uplifting Designs.
About Attack Zone:
I had one goal.
Win an Olympic Medal.
Winning the Ladies Figure Skating Olympic Gold Medal should be my only focus, but my life has other plans for me. My father, the U. S. Senator, and my Stepmonster like to remind me that my role in our family comes with great expectations — and even greater responsibility.
Translation: Marry a man that will make them even more prestigious and powerful.
But that’s not my plan.
I have one last chance to prove myself.
And now, on top of everything else, I have to aid the sexy as sin Detective Kane F**king Green in finding the person who killed my friend.
My name is Sophia Eleonore Dubois, and holy mother of Dorothy Hamill, my life just got complicated. . .
“You have got to be kidding me,” I growl as I see that big blond bastard climb from his truck. Well, it’s really more of a sandy brown but I’m an alliteration kind of a gal.
The parking lot is still dark, with the exception of the tall lights that pock the black asphalt. It’s four in the morning, so the sun won’t be up for a few more hours. I should be the only one here. Something Kane and I had already argued out last night. I even won best two out of three on rock-paper-scissors.
“Better believe it, Princess,” he barks out as he pulls a gear bag from the bed of his truck.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. Put that back. You’re not supposed to be here,” I plead as I grab my own skate bag and toss it over my shoulder. “I offered to rock-paper-scisor you for this spot and you said no. That makes it mine by default.”
He sighs. “You know, you don’t always have to be such a selfish bitch.” I rear back as if he struck me. “You could share the ice.”
“I’m here at four so I don’t have to,” I whisper.
He shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear a bad thought, erasing something that didn’t turn out right on an Etch A Sketch.
I look away. If ever there was anyone who could make me feel like a bug, like dog poop on my shoe, less than, it’s Kane Fucking Green, and trust me, others have tried. I feel the burn in my nostrils. I refuse to let him see me cry. Ever. And Lord knows I have cried my fair share of tears over Kane Fucking Green, and I’m not going to shed another one. I’m just not.
I take a deep breath, turn on my heels, and walk away from him. I feel his gaze burn my skin. It’s not the only thing he’s burned in the last year. He’s burned almost every bridge I had. Literally, the only thing left in my life is figure skating. I feel him on my heels as I walk up the concrete steps at the front of my home rink, Del Mar Ice House.
The big glass doors and windows that line the entire front of the rink are dark. That’s weird. Usually, Vadim turns the lights on when he comes in to unlock the doors for me. Maybe he’s having a late start this morning. Although, that’s not like him at all.
Most people think that my early mornings are crazy. That my four-in-the-morning practices are insane. But I love it. I love the smell of fresh ice. I love the quiet time when I can pace through my routines free from distractions. It’s my time to think or to not think, to clear my head and just be free. And my life is anything but free. Being a sitting senator’s daughter pretty much guarantees that, so I love this time to myself. I love mornings like this.
Vadim, the rink owner, loves these mornings too. He’s always here well before my early time slot. He unlocks the doors for me and turns on the lights. We once struck up a friendship over our love for Moscow. He was surprised to find out that I trained there for a whole summer under some of the best figure skating coaches in the world.
From that moment on, we were bonded. He’s like a favorite uncle doting on his beloved niece. So Vadim took to surfacing the ice on the Zamboni before I come in, even though it was surfaced right before closing the night before. He sharpens my blades for me when I need it. And he’s the best. No one can get me a better hollow. So it’s surprising when the lights are still out upon my arrival.
Although, he did double-book this time with Kane as well. I was so mad when I found out Kane Fucking Green had weaseled his way into my favorite ice time. I need this time to clear my head. From people like Kane Fucking Green. I haven’t been able to be in the same room as him since The Event.
I don’t think anyone could blame me. Who did he hurt? He hurt me.
I look at my sterling silver Rolex watch on my wrist. It’s ten after four in the morning. That’s so unlike Vadim. He should be here by now.
“What’s wrong?” Kane asks, reading my mood.
“He’s late,” I say softly.
I reach for the handle of the door, and it pulls free without effort. The door is unlocked. I pause for a second and then walk through the door. Vadim must be here after all. He must have forgotten to turn on the front lights.
“Wait, maybe I should check it out,” he says as he places his palm on my shoulder. I immediately stiffen.
I shrug off his hold. “You would just love that, wouldn’t you?” I growl. “Oh, sure, go right ahead and enjoy my ice time while I stand here like an idiot in the parking lot, Kane.” I roll my eyes.
“Is that what you really think of me, Princess?” he asks, his voice low in warning.
“At this juncture, I’m not sure what to believe,” I say honestly, meeting his blue gaze.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he sighs.
“I suppose you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a National Championship to prepare for,” I say as I start walking down the hall toward the ice.
The rubber mats squeak under my sneakers—the shoes my stepmonster hates with a passion, but which are so comfortable. Especially after a long workout on the ice. I head toward the team boxes. That’s where I’ll put on my skates and stash my music and my water by the boards.
Kane is beside me as we turn the corner and stop in our tracks.
Whereas the main building lights were off, the lights over the ice are on. The whir of the Zamboni is deafening as it circles the ice top over and over. I gasp when Kane’s hand closes tight over my bicep, bringing me to a halt, and I raise my head to see what he sees.
Vadim is sprawled back over the seat of the Zamboni. His eyes point up at the championship banners of the local professional hockey team, all lined up in a neat row, but they don’t see them. They won’t see anything again. The bullet hole between his blank eyes saw to that.
“Holy son of Scott Hamilton,” I speak without thought.
“You got that right, babe. Whatever that means,” Kane says before he leads me back through the rink and out the glass front doors.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but instead find myself racing over to the bushes to toss my cookies. Kane is behind me, rubbing my back and making soothing noises. He hands me a water bottle from his gear bag before pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Dispatch, this is Detective Kane Green, badge number 57635. I need to report a homicide,” he says into his phone before lowering the volume of his voice. “And I have Senator Dubois’s daughter with me.”
Six months ago, I had hoped to put Kane Fucking Green and all of his bullshit behind me. I swore I wouldn’t focus on anything but myself and this next Olympic cycle. Not my dad—the US senator—or his bitch of a wife. And definitely not the feelings of hurt and betrayal that seeing Kane always seems to bring to the surface. Not to mention other feelings. My name is Sophia Eleanor Dubois, “Sophie” to my friends, and I have a funny feeling Kane Green just screwed me and my plans . . . again.
About the Author:
Jennifer is a thirty something lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.
Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also an Alpha Xi Delta.
10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 8 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found in East Texas on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.
Enter Jennifer’s Giveaway:
What she needs most might be what she least expects…
Living without air conditioning in a Philadelphia heat wave has Claire on the brink of a total meltdown. When she escapes her overheated apartment to spend a day at the park, the last thing she expects—or wants—is for a gorgeous guy to chat her up. But his sweet smile and nerdy charm are impossible for even Claire to resist.
Patience and persistence go hand in hand…
For Ben, Claire is the One, but there’s a small snag—she’s terrified of a man’s touch. But now that he’s found her, he’ll never let her go, even if he never gets to hold her.
Another snag? Her obvious attraction to his best friend.
Sometimes it takes fire to wash you clean…
Ben respects Claire’s firm boundaries, but Andy crashes right through them. He’s arrogant, crude, a total jackass…and criminally sexy.
Even if she can fix what’s broken inside her, how will she choose between the delicious slow burn she feels with Ben and the explosive inferno Andy ignites in her?
Can they find their happy ending without three hearts going up in flames?
Shoving off the wall, I clear the final step and have a fucking heart attack when I see a tall, broad silhouette blocking one of the windows.
At the sound of his name, he looks over his shoulder, wearing a heart-stopping smile meant just for me.
Simply put, the man steals my breath, leaving my lungs empty and aching. In the dim light of the room, he’s dark and handsome from head to toe, with his glossy black hair, black dress shirt, and charcoal gray pants. Until this moment, I thought only my grandmom and black-and-white movie stars used the word debonair, but Andy DelVecchio is very much here and now and debonair as fuck.
His beauty both lures me in and screams danger, kind of like the first time we met. Only I didn’t know him then, and he didn’t know me. I’m starting to think we were better off that way.
“Peach.” His deep voice caresses my nickname, making my heart stutter. My hand flies to my chest, clutching my literal pearls. “I saw you down there. You really are an angel tonight,” he says, gesturing at, well, all of me.
My knee-jerk response is to reject and deny his words, but instead of keeping that response to myself, my impulsive mouth sets it free. “I’m no angel. Trust me.”
Why I blurt that out is beyond me. It’s not my usual M.O. to open myself up to further discussion about my flaws. They exist. They’re obvious. No need to poke at them.
Stepping farther into the room, I perch on the edge of Ben’s bed, crossing my ankles and folding my hands in my lap. Andy sits beside me, so close our thighs almost touch. I freeze, keeping a watchful eye on the two inches of space between us to make sure they don’t get any radical ideas, like shrinking or disappearing altogether.
“Nobody’s perfect, babe. Some people just come closer to it than others. Benny’s practically a saint, and you…” His rich, brown eyes meet mine, and I can’t look away. I’m trapped by his gaze, with no real desire to break free. “Like I said, you’re an angel. You’ve just got a few broken feathers. That’s all.”
Try a few hundred.
“Ben might be close to perfect, but I’m…” I trail off, shaking my head to finish the thought. Best to keep sidestepping that conversational landmine. “You should hear the way he talks about you, though. It’s embarrassing, really. He’s all, ‘Andy’s super talented.’ ‘Andy’s so much cooler than I’ll ever be.’ ‘Andy’s the absolute shit.’”
Okay, so I’m paraphrasing a bit, but the sentiment is pretty accurate.
Andy’s booming laugh fills the room with pure, concentrated awesomeness. It’s impossible to hear that sound and put up a decent fight against fangirl-level giddiness. I dare anyone to try. It can’t be done.
After years of rooting for couples and falling for heroes created by other authors, Everly decided to create her own. She now has a crowd of characters hanging out in her head, with no intention of kicking them out.
She lives in Philadelphia with her precious laptop, a cat named Bunny, and a kitten who falls down a lot. Her favorite things include Dr. Pepper, sparkly stuff, blissful silence, and singing while doing the dishes.
Everly can be found on Twitter, like, all the time.