4,5 stars! I love this series. All characters are to fall in love with! Great story, damaged hero, smooth-tongued and funny heroine. What’s not to love? Probably just the wait for the next book!
About the plot: It started with a flight from hell. Sophie Darling is flying to London for a job interview with a small amount of information for who she will be working. She is a photographer and works in social media. When she gets upgraded to first class, couldn’t believe her luck. Until the moment she has to sit next to incredibly handsome and not so happy with the company suit wearing snob.
Gabriel Scott is a manager of the biggest rock band on the world, Kill John and he hates to fly. When the seat next to him instead of being empty is occupied he is ready to explode. But the long flight gets more and more interesting when annoying woman works as a great entertainment and distraction. Who would have thought that this is just the beginning.
“Jesus. It’s like looking into the sun.”
“Just stop, will you? You’re too hot. It’s too much to take.”
My thoughts: When everyone has been waiting for a book about another member of the band, Kristen Callihan gave us a book about their manager. And guess what? It was a hit!
First of all the characters. Separately and together, totally amazing. Sophie is smart, sweet but also so goofy. Her inner monologues and banter with Scottie are highly entertaining and funny to tears. Gabriel Scott is a man of control, a professional, ambitious and keeps everybody at a distance.
He also frequently deny himself what he wants. But under that whole crust is loving and devoted man.
“I both love and hate what his voice does to me. One man shouldn’t have so much power. Two words shouldn’t be able to make my thighs clench and my skin turn hypersensitive.”
Sophie and Gabriel are making very small steps to be together, you will have to be patient. But everything is wonderfully built and developed. They have a lot interactions and slowly burn with sexual tension. The waiting for the final shot will wore you out, but they are so good together, you will not regret it. You get caught in their story from the first pages to the last.
“I can’t believe anything about myself anymore. I don’t know whether to run or grab hold of her and never let go.”
It was also good to be part of the band again and get to know even closer members of Kill John.
You can be sure that you will find out what’s new with Libby and Killian and the whole gang. They all enrich the story and I can’t wait to read more books about them.
My favorite thing is as Gabriel said to Sophie, Darling. She doesn’t know whether he uses it as her name or endearment, but you feel it immediately. This is adorable and sensational idea. And of course Sunshine, but that you’ll have to read yourself. What I highly recommend.
“I’ve never met a person I couldn’t manage.”
“Sophie Elizabeth Darling.”
Excerpt #1 *NEW
In all this time, I had yet to see Gabriel without a shirt. He hides his body like a pious Victorian, never letting me see anything other than him fully dressed and polished. Now I know why. Had he let me get a glimpse, I might never have been able to form a coherent thought around him.
This man’s chest is a work of art. It’s every fantasy I’ve had about a man’s body made real. I don’t even know how that’s possible, but I’m not about to complain. God, he looks touchable. Olive skin, tight little brownish nipples, a smattering of dark chest hair over the most incredibly honed—
“You’re staring.” His tone is dry.
“Yes, I am.” I drag my eyes up and find his expression bemused.
A thick brow lifts. I try to mimic the look and fail when both of my brows lift as one. His lips twitch in amusement.
He shifts his weight, causing his abs to clench. Good Lord. He’s not some overdeveloped gym worshiper, just solid and strong, that perfect balance between defined musculature and healthy male—
“You’re still staring, Sophie.”
“You think it’s easy looking away from all this splendor?” I ask his belly button, licking my lips when he huffs out a laugh and just a little bit more of his lower abs are revealed, slanting toward the thick bulge of his cock, which is lamentably hidden behind his slacks.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, though there is humor in his voice. He strolls farther into the room and then practically kills me when he sits in one of the low-slung armchairs. That body, sprawled out on display, those thick, long thighs braced as if to take me in his lap—it’s too much.
I want to straddle him and lick my way from the hollow of his throat to the tip of his cock.
He eyes me as if he knows what I’m thinking, and the air thickens. So many things we left unsaid. I’m remembering his lips now, surprisingly soft, but strong with purpose.
From the way his lids lower, I wonder if he’s remembering things as well. But he doesn’t move. Tension glides over his body and snakes around the room. I feel it in my throat and down my spine. We’re closing up again, retreating.
Slowly, I toe off my shoes and set my gear down, never breaking eye contact. “I was being completely honest,” I tell him. “I see you like this and I want to stare forever.”
He snorts, shaking his head even as he rests his temple on his knuckles. “What do you mean ‘like this’?”
He tenses. It does lovely things to that chest. I focus on his face, mainly to maintain some semblance of decorum.
“You think this is me undone?” he asks quietly.
“It’s a start.” I reach for my camera bag. “Will you let me photograph you?”
There is safety to be found with the camera between us. A way for both of us to hide until we’re comfortable around each other again.
“You sound surprised.” Holding my camera, I sit in the sofa opposite him. “Don’t tell me no one has asked to take your picture before.”
“They’ve asked. I never saw the point.” He shrugs. “I’m not the story.”
You’re my story. You always were.
“This is just for me,” I say instead. “No one else.”
His shrewd gaze pins me. “Why do you want this?”
So I can have a bit of you forever. “Pictures capture moments in time. I want this one—when you finally let me see a sliver of the man behind the clothes.”
His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, and he slowly lets it out. When he speaks, his voice is a rasp. “Take the pictures.”
I stroll toward the bedroom but come to an abrupt halt at the threshold. For a second, I can only gape at the sight that greets me. It’s so shocking, I turn around to check whether there are cameras rolling and I’m being punked.
“Why are you looking about like that?” Gabriel drawls, not taking his eyes from the TV.
“Just checking to make sure I hadn’t wandered into an alternate reality.”
“Amusing as always, Darling.”
Who could blame me for being suspicious? Gabriel Scott is out of his suit and wearing a soft, gray long-sleeve thermal and black sweats. This is shocking enough—but at least I’ve seen it before. The fact that he’s lounging in his bed, while eating some sort of dessert out of a bowl, is what has me flabbergasted.
“You’re staring,” he says dryly as he…
“Are you watching Buffy?” My voice has a tinge of a squeal.
He rolls his eyes. “Deal with it.”
“I’m just so…” My hand flutters to my chest. “Are you sure I’m not being punked?”
A snort escapes him. “You’re not famous, so no. I, on the other hand, have my moments of doubt that you aren’t here to punk me.”
I’m so happy, I have to fight grinning like a loon as I kick off my shoes and crawl onto the end of the bed. “If I were to punk you, I’d change out all your suits for polyester.”
At that, his eyes finally slide to mine, and his skin actually pales. “That’s just cruel, Darling.”
“Stop calling me that.” I steal his spoon.
“It’s your name.”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re calling me by?” I ask suspiciously, as he moves his bowl out of reach.
“What else would I be doing?” There’s a glint in his eye that leads me to answer in a sing-song voice.
“A term of endearment? Declaring your undying lurve for me.”
His nose wrinkles. “You’re going to put me off my pudding.”
“Pudding? Is that what you’re eating?” I lunge for the bowl, but he’s too quick, and I end up sprawled across his chest.
We both go still, me clutching the spoon in one hand, my other palm pressed against the firm swell of his pec, him with one arm still outstretched, his other one pinned beneath me.
His breathing goes deep and strong as he peers down at me. My attention drifts to his lips, beautifully sculpted and softly parted. How would he kiss? Would he start off slow, taking little nibbles, testing the waters? Or would he be the type to go all in, possess my mouth with his?
Heat floods my body, fluttering through my belly.
Gabriel’s lids lower, and his breath catches.
In the background, someone is shouting Buffy’s name. It’s enough to snap me out of whatever fog that touching Gabriel has pulled me into.
“You smell like apple pie,” I whisper inanely.
His gaze darts from my mouth to my eyes. “It’s crumble. Apple crumble.”
“Why did you call it pudding?”
“It’s what we Brits call dessert.” He’s still staring at my mouth. Dessert indeed.
My lips part, sheer lust making them plump. “Give me a bite.”
With an audible swallow, he slowly takes the spoon from my hand. I don’t look away from his eyes as he scoops up a bit of the crumble.
The spoon shakes just a little. Cool metal slides over my lower lip, and hot crumble fills my mouth. I barely suppress a moan, my lips closing around the spoon as he slowly draws it back out. He grunts in response, a short, helpless sort of sound that he quickly smothers.
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