ppti.info Education Pucked Over Pdf

PUCKED OVER PDF

Friday, June 14, 2019


Hunting Helena - (Pucked 3) -Pucked Over -(ang) (pdf) - plik 'Dozwolone od lat stu w języku angielskim (i inne) > Julka_15'. Inne dokumenty: Dozwolone od. Pucked Over book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Lily LeBlanc isn't versed in the art of casual sex, but after seven. Get Instant Access to Pucked Over: The Pucked Series, Book 3 By Helena Hunting. #cd27c2 EBOOK EPUB KINDLE PDF.


Author:SARAN CARICOFE
Language:English, Spanish, Arabic
Country:Belgium
Genre:Politics & Laws
Pages:296
Published (Last):12.10.2015
ISBN:270-3-36470-402-2
ePub File Size:25.61 MB
PDF File Size:8.36 MB
Distribution:Free* [*Regsitration Required]
Downloads:28339
Uploaded by: DANIKA

B01b43xf58 By Helena Hunting #c0ba22f EBOOK EPUB KINDLE PDF. Read Download Online. Pucked Over (A Standalone Romantic. {Kindle} PUCKED Over (A Standalone Romantic Comedy) (The PUCKED Series Book 3) (PDF) Read Online For download this book click. Thank you for reading pucked over a standalone romantic comedy the pucked series book 3. As you may know, people have look numerous times for their.

Vibrant hazel eyes—the color of moss cut with a shot of bourbon—meet mine. Helmets hit the ice. The excitement of the crowd is infectious. The concept of mob mentality makes much more sense now. The guy with the nice eyes has the advantage. The name Waters is written in big, black letters across his shoulders. This is the magic man, huh?

His face is obscured by a flailing fist, but I admire his tenacity. The refs get involved, breaking up the fight and inciting the crowd by calling penalties. Waters looks pissed. He glides across the ice, hurtling himself into the time-out box. He throws his helmet across the small space only to pick it up and do it again. A ref cautions him, so he drops to the bench in a snit. Waters is far from calm while the ref chews him out. His face is red and his lips mash into a thin line.

I can see why the women behind me are dressed for their shift on the corner. Sidney was kind enough to get another round of beers, so I sip mine while observing Waters. He surveys the arena, looking in my direction, or at least I think he does. I roll my eyes. Waters cocks a brow. On the plus side, my eye roll has helped clear my vision. Sort of.

Pucked (Pucked #1) - Helena Hunting

I make a real show of digging around in my bag for my eye drops. By the time I finally find them, his focus is on the game again. The excitement seems to be finished for now, so I take out my book.

Waters hurdles out of the time-out box, helmet and gloves on. It goes right between the legs of the goalie and ricochets off the net. Waters has been on the ice for all of fifteen seconds. The hockey hookers behind me lose their minds, screaming their annoying banshee heads off. The rest of the crowd get to their feet and yell with them.

As do I. It seems reasonable, more so than my enjoyment over face bashing. The game is fast paced and the bodies rush by. Suddenly an arm smashes into the plexiglass in front of me. I startle, spilling beer on my coat. I swear Waters smirks as I wipe beer off my chest. I doubt he catches it. I clap and cheer, my enthusiasm authentic. Once the players leave the ice, we file out of the arena.

Crowds make me nervous, so I want to wait until most of the people have cleared the stadium, but Sidney is anxious to find Buck. My mom hooks her arm with mine, sandwiching me between them. You were cheering with the rest of them. Sidney chuckles. It affords him major privileges and some cool perks, such as front-row seats at games. The hallway to the locker room smells of perspiration and stale equipment.

Buck ambles out of the locker room with a towel draped across his bare shoulders and his hockey pants on, thank the Lord. The amount of fur he sports makes him resemble a matted yeti. I stay close to the fringe of the crowd to avoid appearing in photos.

The paps snap pics of Buck in his hair shirt while Sidney looks all proud and manly off to the right. They ask Buck a few poignant questions.

His answers are stock; likely something his agent coached him on. That guy gets paid well with all the fuckery Buck gets into. When Buck goes to the locker room to shower, we head out. Traffic from the stadium to the hotel is horrendous. Sidney orders a round of beers as soon as we get to the bar. I gladly accept the drink, my mild buzz having worn off during the lengthy drive. Rooting around in my bag, I find my smokes and make my move toward the beacon of temporary freedom, excited for my reprieve from social discomfort.

Buck notices my attempted escape and grabs my arm. He wrinkles his nose in distaste. Half-dressed women flit around like fruit flies near wine. I find an empty seat; the chairs on either side of me are vacant, aside from a jacket carelessly tossed across the one on my right. I enjoy his growing frustration as she snaps selfie after selfie. When she grabs his junk, I take pity on him. Grab a chair! I may have raised my voice too much. With the way Buck is smiling, I must be the color of a tomato.

The slut-bag mumbles something, and Buck grows grim. Buck drops into the seat beside mine, throwing his arm across my chair. I thought she was gonna whip my dick out right there.

Your micro-wang is barely visible to the naked eye. I glance at him in time for a set of boobs to practically smack me in the face as a waitress places a drink in front of him. It looks like milk. I give him the side-eye as she moves away. The guy sitting to his right asks him a question, drawing his attention away from me. I recognize him from the time-out box: Waters. Holy shitballs, is he ever hot. I pull my sweater over my head, not accounting for static, and my T-shirt sticks to the woolly outer-layer.

Face covered with fabric, I scramble to pull the shirt into place.

The silence at the table is telling. I look down. My bra is visible through the pale pink cotton, and now everyone at this table, including Buck, has seen it unfiltered by the shirt. I wave him off. He shoots me one of his glares. I leave the sweater off to irritate him. His face turns an interesting shade of red. Those eyes are something else, though, even if he is sporting the makings of a black eye.

He takes a sip of his drink, leaving behind a milk mustache he quickly wipes away. My mortification reaches new heights, causing me to say something more insane than usual. He likes to keep me a secret since he wants to go all Ophelia on my ass. Stunned, I make direct eye contact. Or I try to. I further my own embarrassment and his by cupping my breasts and squeezing. I make a snicker-snort noise and look away.

I nudge Alex with my elbow. His arm is like a rock. Cooter-flasher leans forward and gives our table an even better view. Are you Canadian or something? And close. Likes inches away, rock arm brushing mine close. I can even smell his cologne or deodorant—whatever it is, he smells yummy.

Or the question may have stumped him. Waters could very well be an unexpected anomaly. Like the Brits call them fannies? He blinks a few times. His nose is crooked with a decent bump from what I imagine could be multiple breaks. To avoid saying something worse, I excuse myself so I can pretend to smoke.

I grab my bag and sweater and leave the beer. Buck grabs my arm as I pass him. Too bad; he was fun to talk to and nice to look at.

I sigh with irritation. What else am I supposed to do? Ignore him? I was being polite. Be careful who you get friendly with. We were talking. The temperature has dropped in the past half hour, so I pull on my sweater. Finding my smokes, I pop one between my lips and search for my lighter. If I were dumb enough to allow myself to be affected in such a way. I purse the cigarette between my lips.

Alex strikes the match and curves his palm to protect the flame. He watches while I inhale, the embers burning orange as I take a shallow drag and cough. Swearing like a sailor, I cover my eye with my palm. Alex tosses the matches on a table and pats my back until I stop hacking up a lung. I do it as a way to escape awkward social situations. Remembering the way he took out the Atlanta guy makes me warm all over. Thoughts such as these are bound to get me into trouble.

Hockey players are bad news. Especially ones as hot as he is. He must have asked a question. My mind is wandering like a squirrel on Red Bull.

I have to finish it for my book club on Tuesday. Do I ever sound like a winner. He must have been watching me while he was in the time-out box. I was right; he did get my Shakespeare reference. Alex Waters has singlehandedly obliterated my misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players—with one sentence.

I sport the same one when I inadvertently revealed my extreme nerdiness. Most nights I would much rather be at home curled up with a book or playing solitaire than out at a bar. Hence the excessive beer consumption and the fake smoking crutch. I have one of those rare moments where my brain fritzes and I do something completely out of character. I grab Waters by the shirt and pull his face to mine. His mouth is soft and warm.

The stubble on his chin scratches my skin, and I like it. I shove my tongue into his mouth. I slide it across his bottom lip, touching the barely healed split, and he parts for me.

Soft, warm, and wet meet more soft, warm, and wet. He tastes like chocolate and, more faintly, coffee liqueur. His hand runs a hot trail along my side, and he pulls me tight against him. After far too short a time, he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips across my cheek to my ear.

Alex takes the hint, kissing me again. I expect him to be all aggressive and hard, considering his performance on the ice, but the way his tongue moves with mine can only be described as sensual.

My past experience with hockey players tells me this unequivocally. The difference is, this is a fling. I want it to be my anthem. The few people on the patio have stopped talking on account of his unnecessary loudness. This is such an odd situation; the awkwardness causes me to continue to spew idiocy. Buck gives up rationalizing with me and turns to Alex. If you breathe one word of this to my mother, I will openly talk about the time we got drunk and you tried to feel me up, you got me?

I would never actually touch those. Only the two of us have knowledge of this incident. He was drunk out of his gourd at the time. Allowing him to believe he did grope me, even if by accident, gives me leverage in situations such as these.

I let go of his lapels. Cockblockers are everywhere tonight, thwarting my attempts at poor decision making. Alex whispers something in my ear; it sounds like stay. Granted, he may be breathing out of his nose and making a whistling noise that resembles a word. Annoyed and unable to backpedal, I turn to Alex. He winks. Alex is way too hot and far too good a mouth fucker to be safe.

Sometimes Sidney walks around in his underwear. I have a solid understanding—pun completely intended—why my mom married him, beyond his stellar personality. I tiptoe through the suite and lock myself in my room. My first stop is my suitcase. I giggle, finding the term in reference to lady parts comical.

I did bring plenty of extra socks and my one, awesome bra. It takes me fifteen minutes to come. The sore wrist and finger cramps eliminates the relaxing element of the whole process.

Finished riding the masturbation express, I search the pile on the floor for my pajamas, laughing upon their discovery. The top is stretched tight across my chest, like an Ace bandage.

The pants, complete with fly flap, are now capris. The waist sits so low, it barely covers my ass. I find them on the floor between pairs of clean socks and my lone pair of clean underwear, which I need to save for tomorrow. The muffled sound of my phone ringing comes from under the pile of discarded clothes. Now you have to disturb my masturbation session, too?

Masturbation discussions make Buck uncomfortable. Probably because he believes he once asked if watching me jill off would constitute incest. I may have twisted his words in my recount of the events.

Also, the mouth fucking earlier is a clear sign I like the way he looks. Silence follows. Three seconds too late, I have six witty retorts. Sadly, the moment for cleverness has passed. I enjoy the visual this incites; I bet he gets really into it. Almost too quickly. Wait a minute—did you do that? He sounds intense. I try to picture the matching facial expression.

I stop laughing. Secondly, I have this fantastic image of me underneath him. Like really, really excited. Beavers are dangerous. Look, what are you doing right now? Do you want company? Suite six-oh-nine. Want me to knock? Hold on. The common living room is empty. Throwing open the door, I find Alex with his jacket slung over one arm and his phone to his ear. I step out into the hall. Oh yes, now I remember. My nipples are clearly saluting him through the threadbare fabric. His eyes drop for a split second, as if my nipples have their own force field, and then return to my face.

He rocks those damn dimples. The banged-up face and the bruises seem to elevate the level of pretty. Well, then. I reach for the door and tug the handle. Nothing good can come of this.

Except maybe another make out session. I mean what? We can chill for a bit. I look at it and then him, debating. It could be the residual booze floating around in my system—and my lack of gratification during my jill time—but I put my palm in his and allow him to guide me to the elevator.

He pushes the button and drapes his suit jacket across my shoulders. The doors open, and he motions me in ahead of him. The entire elevator is made of mirrors, providing an awesome view of Alex from all angles. I, on the other hand, am a complete mess. I surreptitiously attempt to fix my hair.

His fingers are rough and calloused, yet the touch is gentle, intimate even. I promise. Showing up at my hotel room in the wee hours of the morning usually constitutes a booty call. I can always leave if I need to. Alex laces my fingers with his and we walk down the hall to his room. The space is laid out almost the same as my parents suite aside from the single door leading to what is most likely the bedroom. Number twenty-six. He plays right wing. I hope Charlene forgives my distraction.

I suppress a shudder. I wonder what kind of bet he won. I trail Alex to the bar, where he makes me an alcohol-free drink. He cracks a bottle of Perrier for himself. We stand there, staring at each other, not saying anything until the awkwardness becomes unbearable and I crack. The corner of his mouth quirks up, his eyes alight with amusement.

This would be a first for me. Leaning across the bar, I drop a few more ice cubes into my drink. A throat clears behind me, and I remember how low these pants sit. I straighten quickly and hike the pants up, nearly giving myself a camel toe. No matter how I turn, Alex is going to get an eyeful of something. I cross to it and sit in the corner, tucking my legs under me to prevent further wardrobe malfunctions.

He sits beside me, leaning back, looking all relaxed and hot. Then he fucks me. But he might as well. What does he do to crumble my already weak resolve, other than be his absurdly gorgeous self? Alex does exactly what he said he wanted to do—hang out and talk. This chick Lydia was getting tired of reading the word moist, so she picked Fielding. Moist is a terrible word. It should only be used to describe the consistency of cake. He twirls my hair between his fingers.

I took a few courses for fun. What about you? I take a sip of my grapefruit drink.

Pucked Over

I had to drop the kin after I was drafted. I was a little late getting picked up. My Spidey jammies are at risk of peeling themselves off my body. His glass clinks on the table, and then his hands are on me, under my shirt, gripping my waist and burning against my already heated skin. I giggle, and then moan. Oh hell, do I moan. I skim his jaw with my fingers and thread them into his hair. This is simultaneously the best and worst idea ever. His probable hockey-whore status ceases to matter as I settle over the straining bulge in his pants.

My focus lies on the feel of his hands on my skin and the warmth of his mouth on mine. He breaks the kiss, and his lips travel along my jaw, warm and wet on my skin.

His full bottom lip begs for attention, so I give it a nibble and a suck. We kiss for a long while, grinding all up on each other, his hands in my pants, my fingers in his hair. He pulls my body closer, shifting his hips at the same time. It feels so good. I freeze. Is this what he says to all the puck bunnies?

If it is, I understand why it works. The notion is bereft of logic. The first time I had sex was on a couch, so the prospect that this is less dangerous than say, oh, a very large, comfortable bed, is ludicrous. Alex kneads my ass while I grind on him shamelessly. He proves to be incredibly helpful with the whole hips shifting business.

This is awesome, as far as making out goes. The contrast of rough stubble and the softness of his lips against my throat send a delicious shiver down my spine. I release his hair to explore the rest of his cut body. Muscles tense and jump under my touch. The top button of his dress shirt is undone and his tie hangs loose around his neck. Now seems as good a time as any to help him get more comfortable.

Under the crisp dress shirt is a white tee stretched tight across a solid wall of chest. Excited to find out, I slip my fingers under the hem, mindful this is similar to the unveiling of great art. I want to revel in the reveal of his godlike body. Below his navel is a smattering of dark hair, a treasure trail leading to something close to gold. Washboard abs flex under my fingers. He raises his arms, and I lift the T-shirt over his head, careful of his busted lip and bruised jaw.

Not bothering to hide my appreciation, I exhale on a low whistle. Tattoos accentuate each bicep. The left boasts a waving Canadian flag—long live patriotism—and the right has a set of hockey sticks crossed over a puck.

When my body jerks, he hesitates. I suck in a breath and hold back a giggle. As soon as he reaches my breasts, his thumbs sweep over my nipples. I moan like a street walker. My face and chest heat with embarrassment. Apparently Alex is good with the moaning. Still cupping my boobs, he looks me in the eye, waiting for the okay to take this further.

It makes him infinitely sexier and harder to say no to. I raise my arms in silent assent. Of course, when he removes my shirt, my glasses get caught in my hair.

Alex stares at my boobs. He cups them in his hands, which are huge—his hands, not my boobs; those are average sized. Then he bounces them around a bit. I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort to derail the sound forcing its way up my throat.

I manage to keep it to a whimper as Alex massages one boob and makes out with the other one. His low chuckle follows. Alex is in serious boob nuzzle mode. I almost expect him to do the whole motorboat thing. He winds an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. At my slightly desperate whine, he shifts his hips.

I know where this is going. The point is moot, but the denial makes my failed attempt at resistance seem less offensive. He kisses me, soft and searching. Like gummy bears left out in the sun, I melt right into him. Finding the clasp on his belt, I slip it through the buckle.

He must think my actions mean I agree with his suggestion. He grips my ass firmly and stands. Locking my legs around his waist, I hurry to free a hand from his pants and clutch his shoulder. This is really happening.

Like, for real. With a hockey player, no less. So much for good judgment. Alex sets me on the edge of the bed and flicks on the lamp.

The soft glow magnifies the dips and curves of his body, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw and the bruise below his left eye. It eliminated most potential mistakes.

Letting go, I shimmy back on the bed, giving him enough space to join me. His eyes are low-lidded, his expression intense as he follows after me.

Fumbling and uncoordinated thanks to my loss of fine-motor function, I struggle to pop the button on his pants and pull down the zipper. Alex watches my hand disappear inside. It has to look good from his point of view. How can it not? Soft, hot skin encases the hardest dick on the planet. But not for a moment did I think that Randy, of Pucked Over , would totally own me. Seriously, he an. Seriously, he and Lily are amazing. Keep writing these sexy, funny romantic books—forever and ever, please!

The plot was well connected with the rest of the series and had the perfect amount of angst to make the story more interesting. The characters, all of them, were awesome. Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read.

Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Other editions. Enlarge cover. Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Details if other: Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Preview — Pucked Over by Helena Hunting.

What could possibly go wrong? Nothing at all. NHL player, Randy Ballistic, lives up to his last name on the ice and in the bedroom. His best friend and teammate has recently given up the puck bunnies and traded them in for a real girlfriend. And she just happens to have a seriously feisty, extra-hot best friend on the rebound.

Casual sex is only casual until those pesky things called emotions get involved. Get A Copy. Paperback , pages. More Details Edition Language. Other Editions Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about Pucked Over , please sign up. Is it necessary to read Pucked 2 in order to read this book? I read the first one and liked it, but I didn't like Violet's brother, so I didn't read 2 his book.

Amanda Grinstead You'll like Buck much better after you read the 2nd book. He's actually a funny and thoughtful character.

See all 13 questions about Pucked Over…. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. Sort order. I need to read the other two books in this series. He's the best friend of Miller Butterson, who was the hero in Pucked Up.

Randy has messed around with many a puck bunny in his day but he tends to be a serial dater. As soon as things get too serious, he's out! He has his father to thank for his inability to commit. He's so afraid of ending up like his Dad, that he refuses to get too close to any woman. They all agree that the man knows how to please a woman and that he has a couple of quirks as well.

He only does it in the dark and underneath the sheets!! When I found out the reason why, I fell even more in love with Randy! Lily LeBlanc is Sunny's best friend, who is the heroine from book two.

Lily has just broken up with her boyfriend of seven years. He was pretty much a loser and was only good at making her feel inadequate. She's never been the kind of girl to hook up with a guy for just sex, but once she meets Randy and they have quite a steamy encounter in a bathroom at a cabin they both end up in, Lily is thinking a no strings arrangement might be just what she needs. They both agree to keep things casual and the minute they feel things heading in a serious direction, they must call it quits.

So these two end up having some seriously amazing sexual rendezvous and Lily does find it odd that Randy only wants to do it in the dark. Randy is starting to feel things he hasn't for any woman before. Other women just don't do it for him and he's finding himself drawn to Lily's snarky attitude and he's intrigued by how she challenges him at every turn.

Lily and Randy never intended to get in too deep but once reality sets in, will they be able to see the truth and risk it all for love, or will they let old insecurities take hold and ruin what could be a once in a lifetime deal??

I mean three days later, I am still thinking about this book and wishing I had the time to go back and re-read it. View all 96 comments. May 06, Christy rated it really liked it Shelves: Helena Hunting writes some seriously funny books! Each time I finish a book in her Pucked series, I want to dive into the next.

Lily and her boyfriend of 7 years are over and Randy is there for her- to be a friend and have some fun. No attachments. Just a whole lot of awesome orgasms.

At first as friends, and then, well, you know how it goes. He was supposed to be a rebound for Lily. But things change when the heart gets involved. All of these couples have character. I was seriously so happy by the end of this book! View all 15 comments.

Jan 12, Beverly rated it really liked it. This sports romance series is so much fun and laugh out loud funny. Helena writes raunchy, inappropriate humor like no one else. With every book I am anxious to see what inappropriate love story we will get.

I love how she doesn't pull out any stops with her humor and characters. The hook up is just a quick, hot and heavy hook up session after she breaks up with her long time boyfriend. Lily and Randy have quite the journey to go and their real life issues are so much deeper than I originally thought. It was a pleasant surprise to see the struggles and character development.

I liked seeing Randy and Lily make sacrifices and move forward. I felt like this story was much more than the others. I liked how it had sexiness and the inappropriate humor we are used to, but also so much heart.

I loved how Randy and Lily had to trust each other and make themselves vulnerable.

If you are a fan of sports romance, crude humor and sexy stories I highly recommend this series. ARC kindly provided in exchange for an honest review. View all 30 comments. Nov 28, Dali rated it really liked it Shelves: Hilarious, sweet, sizzling hot without missing amusing dramatics.

A wonderful continuation for the Pucked series. Mostly of the down variety which have caused too much strain and then just snapped.

Can she keep her feelings in check and things ca Hilarious, sweet, sizzling hot without missing amusing dramatics. Can she keep her feelings in check and things casual or will she get Pucked Over?

Randy Ballistic takes a lot after his father. He acts according to his name and reputation on and off the ice. When things start to get too comfortable and serious, will they ignore his own emotions for fear of repeating history or will he take a chance on them? Randy and Lily seemed like a complete odd couple. They are two very different people, with different backgrounds who live in different countries who are trying to make their intense attraction for each other work.

I also truly enjoyed the character development where I got to know about Lily having to give up her Olympic dreams for lack of money because her hockey playing father was completely absent. Her sassiness was perfect for his magnetism. For all his player reputation, Randy was cluelessly sweet regarding his emotions toward Lily. I loved having characters from the past books. They were a constant source of amusement. And raise your hand if you squeeed when she mentions Inked Armor and its resident badass tattoo artist Hayden?

Having as many raunchy, sizzling moments as crazy and amusing ones in this delectable romance. Pucked Over is book 3 in the Pucked series by Helena Hunting. This is a sexy, light, fun, full of swear words standalone book with a hockey background.

The excerpts are from that copy. View all 14 comments. For those who need a little refresher on the MCs: He also has a beard. And a man bun. And is sexy as all hell. Just getting out of a truly shitty relationship, Lily d 4. Just getting out of a truly shitty relationship, Lily decides a little hook up would be fun.

And who better to have fun with then the ultimate manwhore himself, Randy. As I mentioned above, this story felt more passionate and more romantic then the first two installments, but still provided lots of laughs.

The progression of their relationship from friends-with-benefits to couple was paced perfectly and Lily and Randy were both such greats MCs. The only thing I would have liked view spoiler [was to see them as an actual couple. View all 6 comments. We all remember him from the last book.

He's Miller's best childhood friend, and he has been traded to Chicago last season. Total ladies man. She's Sunny's best friend from back home in Guelph, Canada. But after that little something Lily is so totally embarrassed but also angry at Randy. And Randy, he wants more He can't even talk to her, as soon as they see each other, they end up half-naked in a bathroom. He knows he will only ever be the rebound guy, but he still wants that And Lily And of course their friends are looking very closely at whatever they do, because they don't want anyone to get hurt in the end.

I'm not telling you that of course If I had to say which of the three books is my favorite? I think I'd still go with the second one Both not really wanting something serious. Lily, because she just broke up with Benji, and Randy, because he thinks he's just like his cheating dad.

Then there's also the thing with Randy always turning off the lights when they start their sexy-time I loved watching them find their way to a Happy Ever After they didn't even know they were looking for.

View 2 comments. Oct 29, Bex TotallyBex. Both characters are majorly sweet, delightfully swoony, and sometimes endearingly silly. However, I think the fact that they have hidden insecurities is what makes them so adorable and gosh darn lovable.

Lily has just broken up with a douchebag who treated her poorly for the majority of their seven-year relationship. Neither wants to get hurt, so they avoid the topic with each other and themselves.

I liked that Pucked Over is more subdued than the first two books, while maintaining the original characteristics that made the others so fun. Lily is a much more reserved and private person than Violet, so that is reflected in the writing. That, right there, is why I loved this book so much!

If you are a fan of the series, I guarantee this is going to be a hit. View all 11 comments. Mar 13, NMmomof4 rated it liked it Shelves: This was an enjoyable read. I didn't go in expecting to be blown away, and I wasn't -- so no disappointment here. I was really frustrated with the ending see closure section below , but I figure that is just going to be the norm for this series -- so that brought down my rating. It was a pretty easy, sexy, and funny read that I'm sure many will enjoy: Brief Summary of the Storyline: This is Lily and Randy's story.

They meet through mutual friends, as their best friend 3 Stars Overall Opinion: They meet through mutual friends, as their best friends are together and the mcs in Pucked Up. They have a steamy encounter one day right after Lily breaks up with her long-term boyfriend, and neither of them can forget it.

They decide to partake in a fun no-strings attached affair, but eventually stronger feelings develop and they fall in love.

Get A Copy

Both of them have some baggage to deal with, and there are some sexy and funny moments Overall Pace of Story: I never skimmed, and I thought it flowed well. No, they take a while to develop stronger feelings. H rating: I liked him. He was damaged because of his upbringing, but I felt like he was a genuinely good man.

I liked her. She was pretty tough for her circumstances, and I liked the way she cared for the H. Sadness level: Yes view spoiler [The H pushes away at one point because he is dealing with his past baggage. The H is the main pursuer of the relationship. They have some good tension, chemistry, and scenes -- but not so much it takes away from the story. Descriptive sex: Yes Safe sex: Yes view spoiler [ Condoms are used.

Birth control and std statuses are mentioned, but I don't remember any mention of previous practices. Mild view spoiler [There is one scene where the H is being hit on by OW after a longer break of time from seeing the h, and he was briefly considering it. No Cheating: No Separation: Yes view spoiler [They are separated shortly I'm not sure exactly how long. The H confirms that he had no other partner during this time, and there is no mention or suggestion of the h having other partners either.

Yes view spoiler [Manwhore H before the h hide spoiler ] Closure: This didn't have nearly enough closure for me! I guess this series is just going to continue and we get to see them later on, but I hate that! Why couldn't we get a jump ahead glimpse into their HEA in this book? Even the wording of the last sentence bothered me: How I got it: It was part of my scribed subscription. View all 8 comments. I am writing to inform you I need to terminate our agreement as author and reader for the following violations: Incredibly awful language about casual and consensual sex.

I get my dramatic flair from my mom. Women who like casual sex are also women. At my silence, she continues her explanation. Yes, Violet is supposed to be a bit of a disaster, but this kind of talk is not limited to her. When I first read Pucked, I was kind of smitten. Alex was a great hero. Good pairing. Now I wonder if that was my younger years of romance and I missed something. Weak character development. No character development? A silly silly subplot on disfigurement Not even sure what to say about this one, it was such nonsense.

These are too long for the subject matter. Dare I say much of the page space is taken up with too much sex? Or talking about sex. Or thinking about sex. They did some skating. They ate once. Protagonists who believe the actions of their parents who have had little influence on their upbringing have sealed their fate.

I will perhaps miss the good old smut. Because I do like some of the sex scenes quite a bit, just not enough. It was kind of endearing. View all 33 comments. Between two and three I managed not to stare at the ceiling or my clock, but I woke up with my hand in my damn underpants. So I give in. I roll over onto my back, close my eyes, and let the images come.

Dana Barron

The experience had not been all that pleasant. I also needed to tackle the mess that was my fur burger. She was expensive, and I needed the money to buy groceries for the trip. I was also angry with Benji, so I let my bush grow in to spite him. Not that he gave me the opportunity to do so very often.

Anyway, as I was about to tackle the hairy muppet living on my cooch, the door to the bathroom flew open. I fully expected Sunny, or maybe dickhead Benji, to be the one busting in on me. It was neither. Instead I stared at a man—a broad, well-built, superhot man—with his hand in his shorts. His dark hair was pulled back in one of those stubby little man-bun things, and his eyes were the color of honey. He sported a somewhat ungroomed beard, but it was lush, and it worked for him.

The hand down his pants was attached to an arm with a full tattooed sleeve. His massive, muscular frame blocked my only way out. Also, I was completely naked, covered in shaving lotion from ankle to thigh, and my crotch was extra furry.

His eyes dipped and widened, taking me in. Get out! What are you doing here? I was just looking for a bathroom. I was furious. Embarrassed and not completely rational, I covered myself with the towel and searched the bathroom for a weapon.

The toilet paper holder had a blunt end if I needed to club the sexy intruder. His amusement was infuriating. So there I was, forced into close proximity with a hot, insanely cut hockey boy. The situation had been escalating for a long while, but it had finally reached unmanageable. I was done in so many ways. While I wallowed in the aftermath of my poor life choices, Randy had sat at the table, eating bowl after bowl of Corn Pops and reading the sports section of the newspaper.

Benji had followed me around the house, pushing every single one of my buttons. Or he thought it was a game. We had broken up before. Several times. And then he called me a bitch. It felt like a verbal backhand. And it was humiliating in front of a bystander. Randy had dropped his spoon in his bowl. Milk splattered the table and his shirt. It toppled over, clattering to the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his tattooed hand. So I did what any hot-blooded Canadian woman would when a hot man—hockey player or not—threatened extreme violence on her behalf: I grabbed his face and stuck my tongue in his mouth.

Play a little tonsil hockey with him. Plead insanity for a minute. His beard was soft where it touched my lips and chin. His mouth tasted like Corn Pops. His tongue—oh God, his tongue. Mortified, I locked myself in a bedroom at the cottage for the rest of the afternoon. I told Sunny I needed to be alone. During that time, I relived the kiss over and over, wondering if it was so electric because Randy had defended me, because I was angry with Benji, or because Randy was so damn hot.

But by dinner, Benji had taken off, his raging texts cementing my conviction that we were now as over as we were going to get. And still here was Randy. Maybe a little arrogant. An excellent kisser and an absolute flirt. I needed a distraction, and he seemed like a good one. We ended up dry-humping in the kitchen. Later he came to my bedroom with promises of fun and orgasms.

No obligations. No strings. Just a casual fling. Randy followed through on his promise to distract me from my problems. The orgasms were out of this world. He was okay with being a rebound lay, but he drew the line at revenge fuck. At the time. Regrets came later. I thought he was so sweet. Until he and Miller went to a charity car wash the next morning, leaving Sunny and me at the cottage. The guys were only going to be gone a couple of hours, and Randy promised more orgasms upon his return.

I had plans to make them the sex kind. Then things got complicated. Before they even got back, pictures of Randy and Miller with what appeared to be topless models went viral. I got a little ragey. It was a lie. A fabrication. Rolling over in my bed, I sigh and blink away the memories. Turns out it was all a misunderstanding. But by the time I got the real story, it was too late. The damage had been done. A month of reliving the hours spent in that bed with him.

A month of embarrassment over my overreaction. A month of being horrified that I let the whole situation happen in the first place.

So I have to see Randy again. My body is clearly interested in receiving the pleasure he generously provided again. And again. Smug bastard. He was supposed to be a distraction. A fling. Screwing around for the sake of gratification and nothing else. He lives for the game. Mar 05, Kat rated it it was amazing Shelves: Ah, Randy and Lily. Little do they realize! This was one of my favorite couples. Entered on screen reader.

Jan 27, ambsreads rated it did not like it Shelves: I don't know about you, but that facts just more than a little distracting for me. View 1 comment. Lucky for them, their best friends Sunny and Miller are in a relationship, so they ended up at the same event together and things got very interesting after that!Alex is stunning below me. My refuge from my crazy awesome, albeit super-inappropriate mother.

Alex has unbelievable stamina, as expected. Especially with the humping of Randy. Likes inches away, rock arm brushing mine close. She's never been the kind of girl to hook up with a guy for just sex, but once she meets Randy and they have quite a steamy encounter in a bathroom at a cabin they both end up in, Lily is thinking a no strings arrangement might be just what she needs.

I could never keep track of my life the way you do.

GINA from Missouri
Also read my other articles. I take pleasure in sewing. I love reading novels wholly.