Today we have the stop for Cindi Madsen’s Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny. Check out this fantastic new romance and grab your copy today!
About Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny:Confession #1: I used to be a puck bunny, but after a hockey player broke my heart, I gave up all things hockey. Now I'm just focused on finding a way to pass my math class so I can graduate college. Confession #2: Ryder "Ox" Maddox's deep, sexy voice sends fuzzy tingles through my entire body, and I'm powerless to stop it. Which is a big problem since the hot, surprisingly funny hockey player is my new math tutor. Confession #3: I can't stop thinking about how ripped Ryder is from all his hockey training, and how fun it'd be to cross lines with him. Confession #4: I kissed a hockey player and I liked it. Confession #5: If I'm not careful, I might relapse and fall for Ryder, and then I'll be totally pucked.
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Kisses from Ryder were a little too effective at eradicating common sense.
What was that saying? Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
Right now, in Ryder’s arms, his lips and body pressed against me, I wondered if it was true. I’d always considered love a weakness, and my past brush with it certainly left me with enough issues to make it seem like a true theory.
But during this past month with Ryder, I didn’t feel weak. I felt stronger. I cared more intensely for him than I’d cared for any other guy, which made me doubt there’d been actual love with anyone else in the first place.
He and I had something deeper, and that sent a turbulent mix of longing and fear through me. My heart tugged and squeezed and generally didn’t know how to deal with the rush of emotions.
I pulled back before we reached the point of no return—no return being naked in this instance.
Oh, God, I can only imagine how sexy naked Ryder is… Images of his shirtless torso flashed through my mind and heat flooded my veins. The unquenchable yearning to see more took over, which is probably why I reached for the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head before I fully thought through the move.
He’s even hotter than I remembered. His arms were covered in paint, and so was his neck and face, but everywhere his shirt covered was clear of color, nothing to obscure all those drool-inducing muscles.
I ran my hand down his taut abdomen, dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind. His muscles twitched under my fingertips, the dips and grooves flexing and dipping in the most hypnotic way. His skin was so warm, too, and tracing his muscles, and the way they reacted to my touch made me want more—more warmth, more of my hands on him, more, more, more…