Jumat, 29 Agustus 2014

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***READ FOR F R E E WITH KINDLE UNLIMITED***
The Ultimate Guide to Unlocking the Power of Your Mind Did You Know You Have the Power Inside of You Right Now to Generate Wealth and Success?

Becoming rich doesn’t have to be something that just happens to other people. Generating wealth and finding success in your career or business isn’t a matter of luck. Inside each of us is the most powerful money making tool ever discovered.

The human mind will lead you to whatever you are looking for. Once you learn to control your thoughts and emotions, and focus them on what you most want in life, you will be an unstoppable force.

In this book you will learn:

  • How your thoughts affect you physically
  • How your thoughts affect you emotionally
  • How thought turn into things
  • How you can stay positive
  • What does your thoughts have to do with success

If you want to stop letting life just happen to you, and instead want to be in control of what happens to you, you need this book. Once you begin following the simple principles in this book you will find yourself on the road to the life you have always dreamed about.

Thoughts are the building blocks of everything we do. Our thoughts become our words and then our actions, and finally our destiny. Learn how to control and focus your thoughts and you will take control of your own destiny.

Start yourself on the life-changing journey that can only begin by carefully applying the principles and techniques in this book. The sooner you start reading the sooner you will see your life changing.

Stop waiting for your luck to change, and take control of your life.

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  • Sales Rank: #786522 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-01-28
  • Released on: 2015-01-28
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
What we think for the future will be the FUTURE!
By Brianna Denise Krooberg
What you thought that may happen will mostly happen. It's true. It is proven and tested by me. When you bring positive vibes in every action you do it will truly come to the best positive result.Thought can affect us in many ways than we can imagine, as the author says in this book. I like how the author relay the message. Simple and very motivational. I enjoyed reading it so much. I will be sharing this thoughts to my husband and surely he will love it. It is in us on how we handle and acted through this crazy world.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great read
By Bethany Wild
Interesting read about how to take control of your life better and stop just waiting for things to happen. This book explains on how our thoughts can effect us emotionally and physically. Its well written and is a motivational guide and will give you positive ways into changing your life and opening up your full potential.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
This is a good book to read when you feel overwhelmed or in ...
By Elisabeth Pogue
Very motivational. This is a good book to read when you feel overwhelmed or in stress. Author writes about how to think right.
Thoughts affect us in so many ways - what you think you get. So think positively, get positive vibes and make your dreams come true.
It is all in your head. :) Recommended reading.

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* Get Free Ebook Living Your Created Design: A Pep Talk, by Clay Morgan

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Living Your Created Design: A Pep Talk, by Clay Morgan

You have been created for today. You have a specific design for a specific task. You may have roadblocks in your way, but I guarantee you cannot be stopped unless you give up. "Living Your Created Design" was written with you in mind. The everyday lover of life who knows there is more around the corner. Just as a coach motivates their players before the game; it is my hope that this "Pep Talk" will give you the motivation you need to take one more step up the mountain to impact our culture!

  • Sales Rank: #5656445 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-01-21
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 8.00" h x .19" w x 5.00" l, .20 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 84 pages

About the Author
Clay resides in New Castle, Indiana with his wife and five sons. He currently serves as Associate Pastor of Tabernacle Of Praise in Muncie, Indiana, as a Councilman of Henry County, Indiana, and serves on various boards and committees throughout the community.

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
I would recommend this book to anyone who is having a struggle ...
By Kelsey B.
The Pep Talk is a very eye-opening book. It kept me glued to it with its step by step description of “Created Design” and how to figure out our own “Created Design”. It’s a very refreshing book that helps us find our path in life. The author, Clay Morgan, says in the beginning of the book that this is a “Shot of Vitamin C”, and it really is! The Pep Talk had me laughing and crying because it’s so true. He helped guide me through the choices in my life. It helped me see my relationship with God more clearly, and that I am here in this world for a reason! I would recommend this book to anyone who is having a struggle with their “Created Design” and relationship with God.
P.S . I want to hear more Clay Morgan!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A down to earth pep talk!
By Natalie
Easily read encouragement for those who know they are being called by God yet are hesitant to take that step to follow Him to do what they are designed to do. Clay has started the walk, stumbled, got up and is still walking! Allow him to share with you in a very personal way the simple, yet not always easy, steps to becoming your own created design.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Great read!
By Kyle Maurer
It's just that...a "pep talk", but a really good and encouraging one! Enjoyed the several examples from the Bible and also modern comparisons of people. Really opened different perspectives on different topics.

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Minggu, 24 Agustus 2014

~ Free PDF Cómo Obtener Riqueza Con Solo Una Palabra [How To Gain Wealth With Just One Word], by Gene Geter

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Please note: This audiobook is in Spanish.

  • Sales Rank: #178184 in Audible
  • Published on: 2015-01-09
  • Format: Unabridged
  • Original language: Spanish
  • Running time: 18 minutes

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
buenisimo
By Ximena
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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Three Stars
By Silvestre
mas de lo mismo

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!! PDF Ebook What's Next?: Rediscovering YOU in the midst of your changing world!, by Cindy M. Taylor

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It wasn't that long ago that I felt like my life hit a wall…an unexpected roadblock that I needed to get around, one way or another! I was coming up on 15 years with Usborne Books and felt I had taken that business as far as I could…I needed a change. My family needed less of me as my children were amazing teenagers and young adults…I needed a new focus. I needed to determine what was next!! For me, my purpose became helping women like you to find YOUR purpose...and help you find YOU again in the midst of many changes in your life! And in order to do that effectively, I became a coach... specifically a Life Strategist! Do YOU feel like you have lost your purpose? Do YOU feel like you are alone in your struggle? Do YOU feel confused…just plain uncertain where to even begin to try to figure it out? BEEN THERE, DONE THAT! I am here to tell you, it IS possible to sort out all the pieces of the puzzle of your life and move them around and come up with a whole NEW picture that you could never have anticipated! One with purpose!! One FILLED with possibilities...and it all starts by opening this book and getting started on your plan to take that next step! Let's do it together! For more on Cindy, head over to www.cindybiz.com

  • Sales Rank: #3474945 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-01-27
  • Original language: English
  • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .19" w x 6.00" l,
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 74 pages

About the Author
Cindy Taylor is wife to an amazing husband and mom to 4 awesome children (and an equally awesome son-in-law). For the past 20 years, she invested time homeschooling her children and running a successful Direct Sales business. As 3 of her children graduated, the youngest studying independently and her business winding down, Cindy became a woman without a mission! After some soul searching and studying, Cindy became a Certified Coach. She now works with women who are without a mission and on the journey to "What's Next?" cindy@cindybiz.com www.cindybiz.com

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0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
So grateful that I read this book before Chinese New Year 2015!
By Y.C. Chen
"Warm and Fuzzy" and "Systematic and Clear" are usually 2 opposing descriptions when it comes to a book in this category. However, "What's Next?" by Cindy M Taylor is truly an rare combination of two great qualities. Her story-telling narrative draws you into the awareness of change, and her professional skills as a coach systematize the re-discovery journey into understandable exercises that the readers complete. This is a much better than the typical one-size-fits-all prescriptive approach. As I invest in the process by completing these simply reflective exercises, I feel increasing clarity and resolve to face the future challenges head-on!

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Ready to start focusing on you?
By Dequiana Jackson
Cindy takes readers on an interactive journey to discover "What's Next" in their lives. This book is particularly good for women who are learning how to transition from caring for others (husband, children, employer) to actually focusing on themselves. You don't have to travel alone as Cindy reminds readers that a coach can help during this discovery process. If you take the time to answer the questions Cindy poses, you will be that much closer to discovering your purpose.

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Steps to Move Forward
By Ashley Sauls
When you feel that you have reached a career or goal plateau, you need the insight to know "how" to continue to move forward. In "What's Next" Cindy does not put any barriers on anyone's success based on factors such as age, experience, or other limiting factors we use. Through her coaching strategies she encourages others to go deeper and see the endless possibilities available to those who dare to dream.

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!! Free PDF My Near Death Experiment, by Caleb Anderson

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My Near Death Experiment, by Caleb Anderson

Proximity to Death Brings Clarity to Life. What if you could have the life-changing effect of a near-death-experience without the pain, the hospitals, the drama, and the potential loss? What if you could live a more meaningful life now while it's up to you-and be happier, more fulfilled, more alive... What if...

  • Sales Rank: #3070672 in Books
  • Published on: 2015-01-01
  • Ingredients: Example Ingredients
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 140 pages

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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Such a great book!!
By Tyler Houston
I loved every page of this book. The stories and experiences of the author were so relatable....I felt like he was talking to me and about my life. Caleb is a true story teller with great humor and verbiage that will have you laughing, crying, and thinking of every aspect of your life.

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Why not try the experiment?
By somesayaa
I love books that are challenging, easy to read, and even easier to implement. This is a new favorite!
One I will revisit many times for a reminder to live fully. It is DOABLE for those who will take action!

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Sabtu, 23 Agustus 2014

! Free Ebook Ticonderoga the Series: Season 1, Vol. 1, by Jerry Robbins

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Ticonderoga the Series: Season 1, Vol. 1, by Jerry Robbins

CRT's hit feature Ticonderoga is now a new series! The series picks up where the feature left off, with Captain Taylor, his son Adam, Mohawk scout Dagadawidah, and Captain Campbell of the 42nd Highlanders remaining at the fort with a small contingent while the main army has moved on to Crown Point, poised to follow the French into Canada.

Joining our original characters are Mrs. Caswell, proprietor of the new tavern, her son Micajah, tavern maid Gertie, as well as Colonel Jeremy Martin, Serjeant Rook, and Private Ian Haywood. Lots of musket-blasting action and adventure await you in Season 1, Vol. 1 of Ticonderoga - The Series.

  • Sales Rank: #77723 in Audible
  • Published on: 2015-01-26
  • Format: Original recording
  • Original language: English
  • Running time: 167 minutes

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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Ticonderoga the Series Vol 1 fills the boots of the original CRT Ticonderoga!
By Mike K of Denver
The Colonial Radio Theater has created a worthy successor to their original adventure Ticonderoga. The series is different from the excellent 2012 CRT production. Specifically the series focuses on the continuing lives of the major characters and introduces new characters as well. This is all after the events following the original adventure. I won't give any specifics away and I will say both loyal CRT fans and new listeners won't be disappointed! A combination of outstanding acting and tight writing reinforce the series as more than a flash in the pan production. My tri corner hat is off to Jerry Robbins and his team of skilled actors and technicians. Once again they have earned this listeners time and interest lock, stock, and barrel and I'm looking forward to Volume 2!

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Colonial Theator Rocks!
By Michael R. Reagan
This my in my top three of favorite audio CD's with Powder River and Martian Chronicles. The historical accuracy of this drama is excellent and is worthy of class room teaching. I have listened to this audio book three times and pick up on something new each time that is historically accurate.
If you enjoy early American adventure and history this is a must listen. Jerry Robbins and players do an exceptional job of bringing this topic to life and educating the listener. I hope all those who purchase this audiobook enjoys it as much as I do.

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Kamis, 21 Agustus 2014

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The New Cowboy (Hitting Rocks Cowboys), by Rebecca Winters

Homecoming Cowboy 

Living on her grandfather's ranch, surrounded by her loving brothers and their families, is helping Avery Bannock put her painful past behind her. But ever since Zane Lawson came home, she's been fighting her feelings for the rugged former Navy SEAL who's sworn to keep her safe—in his arms. 

After a decade undercover, Zane's ready to settle in Montana horse country. Buying the ranch next to the Bannock spread was the first step. Now he's got to convince the gun-shy archaeologist that he's the only cowboy for her. As they work together to find out who's stealing tribal artifacts from a nearby reservation, Zane will do everything in his power to win Avery's trust…and turn their budding romance into a mission possible!

  • Sales Rank: #322850 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2015-01-01
  • Released on: 2015-01-01
  • Format: Kindle eBook

About the Author
Rebecca Winters lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels because writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website at: www.cleanromances.com

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"Unca Zen!"

Zane laughed. "Hey, sport. I can see you on my computer. Can you see me?"

"Yes."

"Did you get those little cars I sent you?"

"I like this one." The three-year-old held it up for Zane to see. As far as he was concerned, Skype was the best cyberinvention ever.

"Say thank-you to your uncle," he heard Sadie say in the background.

"Thank you. When are you coming?"

"Pretty soon. I still have work to do."

"But I want you to come home!"

Zane could tell his brother's son was getting ready to cry.

He got a huge lump in his throat. "There's nothing I want more, too. Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'll be there for my vacation on the Fourth of July." Three weeks away. He was living for it. "We're going to have a big party with fireworks at my house!"

"Goody!" Ryan turned to Sadie. "What's fireworks?"

"She'll show you, sport. Has Jarod taken you riding?"

The boy nodded his blond head. "The horse scared me. He's huge."

Laughter poured out of Zane. "They are kind of big."

"I'm getting a pony."

"When?"

"Pretty soon," Sadie volunteered. "You'll be a very lucky boy." Zane heard her whispering to Ryan. "She says I have to go to bed. I don't want to!" He started crying. "But you need your sleep."

"No— I want you—"

"Say good-night, Ryan."

"No-o—"

Zane heard talking in the background. Ryan was becoming more unmanageable. Someone else had come into the room. He could hear Sadie saying they had to go.

"Don't go, Unca Zen—" Ryan wailed, sounding like his heart would break.

Sadie poked her head into view. "Sorry. This little guy is tired."

"I can tell. Who's there with you?"

"Avery just dropped by."

His adrenaline kicked in. "Put her on."

"Just a minute." He heard more talking. "Come on over here, Avery. Zane wants to say hello. Tell him what's going on at the Bannock ranch while I put Ryan down."

The boy was in complete meltdown mode as they left the room. His nephew's cries grew fainter and Zane's heart started pounding harder as he waited to see the woman who kept him awake nights.

His breath caught when she sat down in front of the camera. "Hi, Zane. I guess you can't tell your nephew adores you."

"The feeling's mutual. How are you?"

"Good. Busy. I'm surprised you've come out from undercover long enough to manage this Skype session."

"I'll always make time for my family."

"Now that you've been working there for a while, do you like the Glasgow area?"

"It's all right, but I'd rather be back on my ranch. Matt has the whole burden on his shoulders when I'm away like this."

"He carried most of it all the years he worked for Daniel Corkin. I don't hear any complaints."

"Matt isn't the type to complain. I'm lucky he was willing to be my foreman after Daniel died. But let's not talk about that. I want to know what's happening in your world."

"Since Jarod's not home yet, and it'll be a while before Ryan goes to sleep, I'll tell you a secret. Jarod is driving us all crazy waiting for his offspring to arrive. He's due in five weeks. I swear Jarod's going to wear a hole in the floor of their new house."

"He's still worried about Sadie?"

"More than ever. I've never seen him this bad. I know she s had a lot of morning sickness, but the doctor says she's fine. Jarod doesn't believe him."

"I guess that's not so hard to understand. Sadie's mom died soon after childbirth."

"But Sadie's not her mom. That heart operation was successful and she's fine now. But you can't tell Jarod that. He bites your head off. We have to walk on eggshells around him. He used to work all hours of the day on the ranch. Now he comes home every few hours, and the rest of the time he's on the phone with her."

"The man's in love." Zane could relate in the most profound of ways.

"Between you and me, he's driving her crazy."

"But never too crazy. Trust me on that. When she was in San Francisco, he was never off her mind for a single second. Those two should have been together years ago."

You and I should be together now.

"I know. I try not to think about that. But this countdown to the baby is getting hard on everyone. The other day Grandpa got so fed up he told him to take a ride in the mountains and commune with nature. It's gotten so serious even Uncle Charlo has no wisdom to impart. When I was out on the reservation the other day and talked to him about Jarod, he actually shook his head, indicating he had nothing. I've never seen him do that before."

"Well, it won't be long before the baby comes."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not here to watch Jarod implode on a daily basis."

Zane burst into laughter, causing her to chuckle.

"I'll give him a call and try to reassure him that Sadie's tough."

"I've seen that strength. She's already become a mother to her own half brother. Sadie has a remarkable capacity to love. Jarod relies on that love. It's really touching to watch the two of them."

The wistfulness in her tone wasn't lost on Zane, who couldn't take the separation from Avery much longer.

"I'm afraid I need to get off now. Grandpa is waiting for me."

No-o—

Zane felt exactly like Ryan. "I guess I'll be seeing all of you on the Fourth of July for the big family get-together."

"It'll be fun. I've enjoyed talking to you, Zane. Hold on while I tiptoe to Ryan's room. Sadie will want to say good-night." There was a slight pause. "Take care," she said with a throb in her voice he felt go through his system. It was always there…that little nuance of emotion that told him she missed him, but she'd never admit it.

"The same back to you, Avery."

Another Monday morning, but it had started out with a surprise phone call that left Avery Bannock frightened and tense. She'd had to leave the Crow Indian dig site where she was working outside Absarokee, Montana, and drive all the way to Bozeman, Montana.

Once inside the police department on Sixteenth Street, she approached the sergeant at the front desk. "A Detective Rymer phoned me two hours ago and asked me to come in because he needed to tell me certain information in person. He said it was urgent." After hearing that message, the warm June morning she'd awakened to had been lost on her.

The officer nodded. "Go down the left hall to the first door on the right."

"Thank you."

She hadn't been inside this building for eight years, but the emergency that had brought her here would haunt her for her entire life. "Detective Rymer?"

He stood up when she entered the small office. "Ms. Bannock?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad you came so fast." He shook her hand and asked her to be seated. "Detective Palmer, who has worked tirelessly on your case, is having back surgery at the moment and asked me to take over for him."

"Was he injured in the line of duty?"

"No. He has a recurring ailment that needed to be fixed."

"I'm glad that's the reason, but I'm sorry for him. He's been a great support to me."

"To you and a lot of people. We're all waiting for him to come back."

"You said this was urgent?"

"Very. I'll get right to the point. The man who assaulted you on September 10, eight years ago, outside the women's dormitory on campus at Montana State University, was captured in Helena, Montana, last week."

What? She reeled. "Is that the truth?"

"Forensics matched his DNA with the DNA taken from you and two other victims."

Two others? She shuddered. "I can't believe it! After eight years…"

"I'm sure it has seemed like a lifetime. He's a thirty-nine-year-old Caucasian male from Butte, Montana. In the past eight years he's been responsible for two other assaults that the police know of and probably many more.

"Unfortunately those victims who didn't go to a hospital and notify the police will never know that he's been arrested. After his trial he'll spend the rest of his life in prison. If there's any good news in all this, it's that you no longer need to fear that he will be back to assault you again."

She put a hand to her mouth and jumped up from the chair. "Thank God."

"All the particulars are here in the report if you want to look at it."

"No—" she said. "Not right now. I couldn't." Though she'd promised that she would be willing to testify against the person if he was ever brought to trial, the thought of having to divulge all the details again in front of a room full of people made her ill.

He eyed her with compassion. "I understand. Detective Palmer will want to talk to you when he's recovered. He'll be the one to keep you informed when the suspect is brought to trial for his crimes. You can discuss all that with him when he's back on his feet."

"Thank you."

Avery rushed out of the office and down the corridor to the front lobby, but everything was a blur. When she reached her truck in the parking lot and climbed inside, she broke down in a convulsion of tears.

A half hour passed before she lifted her head, once again aware of her surroundings. Pulling herself together as best she could, she reached for her cell phone and called Dr. Moser, her psychologist. When she got the other woman on the line and told her the incredible news, the doctor who practiced on the other side of town asked her to come to her office straightaway.

Once inside, Dr. Moser enveloped her in a fierce hug, causing Avery to shed more tears when she hadn't thought it possible. "I don't have to be frightened that he's stalking me any longer."

"That's true and takes away a whole world of stress."

Avery sat down. "But not all of it," she admitted.

"No. With two other victims, there will be a trial and then you'll have to decide if you want to go through it and face him. For now it's enough to know he's been caught. I can't tell you how proud I am of you. Only a small percentage of victims come forward. How wonderful that you listened to your half brother's aunt and did the right thing by calling the police right away and getting to a hospital."

One day Avery would thank Jarod's Aunt Pauline for her wisdom. By listening to her, she now had closure, even if it had taken eight years for her assailant to be caught.

"You have a special kind of courage that's going to get you through this life. Mark my words. One day you're going to know real happiness again. With this news you can live your life without always having to look over your shoulder in fear. I'll call the pharmacy in White Lodge and refill your prescription. Is there anything else I can do?"

"You've been here for me. I'll always be thankful for that."

Avery had been fighting to get her life back since the night the assault had happened, but this news was like receiving a "get out ofjail free" card, even if it couldn't take away the horrendous memory of it.

She thanked the doctor and left for the dig site. Work helped her keep her sanity, especially on a day like this when she didn't know what to do with all the new emotions flooding her system. It was so automatic to worry that her assailant might try to attack her again that she'd probably continue to worry out of habit for a long time. Hopefully the news that he'd been caught would finally sink in.

All these years of fearing he would target her again had left their mark. Now that it was over, she could breathe a little deeper. But since there were other assailants out there, the fear would never completely go away.

Today had to be a new beginning—the start of a happy future—but she still couldn't comprehend it. Happiness was found in all kinds of ways, but she feared that the kind of joy she longed for with the man she'd loved for the past year would always elude her. After talking to him over Skype at Sadie and Jarod's ranch house the other night, her thoughts had been filled with him.

He was coming home for the Fourth of July, but it was just a vacation. Then he'd go back to northern Montana where he'd be unavailable for who knew how many months. But none of it mattered because even if he was attracted to her, he wouldn't be able to handle what had happened to her if he ever found out.

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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Good story
By S. Frank
Good story between two wounded souls. Avery is an archaeologist working on a local dig and living on her grandfather's ranch. Being close to family and friends has been good for her, as she recovers from her painful past. A year earlier she had met Zane Lawson, a former SEAL who is now working for the BLM. She's attracted to him, but is having trouble overcoming her past.

After ten years as a SEAL, Zane is happy to be working law enforcement for the BLM. After a year working across the state from his ranch, he's been transferred nearby and will be able to work from his own home. This will finally give him a chance to get to know Avery better. As he is assigned to investigate the thefts of artifacts from the reservation where she works, he looks at it as a perfect opportunity.

Zane soon discovers that what he thought was simple shyness is something much more. He suffers from symptoms of PTSD himself, and recognizes them in Avery. I loved the way he talked to his own doctor and got information on how to help her. His sensitivity to her fears was wonderful, and I loved how he handled them even before she told him what had happened to her. Avery had been in love with Zane for months, but because of what happened feels that a future with him is not possible. When he tells her of his feelings, she knows she has to tell him what happened to her. She worries that it will make him look at her differently, and draw away from her. She's stunned to discover that he had already suspected and that it made no difference to his feelings.

The care with which Zane treats Avery is wonderful. He's sweet and patient and loving, which is exactly what she needs. I loved seeing how it helped Avery. It didn't suddenly make everything go away, but she does feel stronger and more in control. I also loved seeing her be able to turn around and offer the same kind of care to him.

The artifact stealing storyline was very good. I enjoyed the background information on the Crow people that was part of it. I liked the way that Zane made Avery part of the investigation, and how much he came to respect her knowledge. It was pretty obvious from the beginning who the ringleader of the bad guys was, but the investigation itself was interesting. The ending was pretty intense, especially when it was combined with Avery's fears.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Sweet but not enough loving.
By Fallen3
It was pretty good. It was a very clean book. Glad it didn't have the cuss words, but I like a little more loving in my books. It got depressing at times because it dealt with a serious issue but it was ok. Likable H & h. No TSTL moments. I probably would have rated it a five had it had had more loving in it.
It's a sweet book.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Healing love
By Kindle Customer
Avery couldn't have asked for a better guy to help heal with the past. Their love helped both of them heal. It shows that love can conquer all. It was a great love story.

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If: A Play in Four Acts by Baron Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett Dunsany

  • Original language: English
  • Dimensions: 9.00" h x 6.00" w x .28" l, .39 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback

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Excellent first hand look at World War 1 in France
By Amazon Customer
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I had to look that up - he was there.

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Ahead in the Heat: A Pacific Blue Novel, by Lorelie Brown

Sean Westin finds himself on the beaches of San Sebastian as he recovers from a bad break. But he’ll need more than sand and swells to heal his heart....

The surfing World Championship Tour is under way, and Sean Westin is desperate to make his mark—until a stupid display of machismo in Bali leaves his shoulder busted. He has six weeks to get back on the waves or he may be looking at the end of his career.

Annie Baxter is the best physical therapist in the business, and she knows it. After almost joining the pro circuit herself, she’s wary of working with big stars and their huge egos. But Sean is making her an incredible offer—full funding for her after-school skate center for underprivileged kids—and she’s finding him hard to resist....

As intense therapy sessions turn into passionate intimacy, Sean unleashes a wild side of Annie that she’s suppressed for years. Only, Sean’s keeping secrets, and when his hidden history comes to the surface, everything—even Annie—might get torn away.

  • Sales Rank: #2673639 in Books
  • Brand: Brown, Lorelie
  • Published on: 2015-01-06
  • Released on: 2015-01-06
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 6.81" h x .89" w x 4.13" l, 1.00 pounds
  • Binding: Mass Market Paperback
  • 336 pages

Review
Praise for the Pacific Blue Novels

“Hot summer waves and deep inner turmoil mark this sexy contemporary romance about betrayal and second chances, the first in a series. Sex scenes suffused with pulse-pounding intimacy nicely frame this escapist love story.”—Publishers Weekly

“A must-read for the summer and a sheer delight from start to finish. With a colorful supporting case and a stunning backdrop of sun, sand and surf, this romance makes the most of every single moment.”—RT Book Reviews (4 ½ Star Top Pick)

“Riding the Wave is a book you don’t want to miss! It has it all . . . hot-as-hell hero and heroine, intense chemistry both in and out of the bedroom, and sharp, witty dialogue. Tanner and Avalon’s story will enthrall you one minute, and then tug on your heartstrings the next. I loved this book, and I think you will, too.”—New York Times bestselling author Deirdre Martin

About the Author
After a semi-nomadic childhood throughout California, Lorelie Brown spent high school in Orange County before joining the US Army. After traveling the world from South Korea to Italy, she’s returned home to California, where she currently lives with her three sons and shih-tzu.  Lorelie Brown has cowritten books in two contemporary erotic romance series under the name Katie Porter and has written four historical romance novels. Ahead in the Heat is the second in her sexy, new Pacific Blue series, following Riding the Wave.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1

Sean Westin had been to physical therapists before. Once, he’d sprained his knee on the North Shore of Hawaii and had to check in with a therapist near his home turf in San Sebastian for three months. But that guy had worked out of a standard, stucco-walled complex across the street from the hospital. The building Sean had just now pulled up in front of was about as far from a medical office as possible.

Sean double-checked his in-dash GPS. Right address. The California bungalow was where he was supposed to show up. The place looked more like a cottage than an office. There was a shallow porch decorated with white wicker chairs and a multitude of potted plants that bloomed green or sprouted pink and blue flowers. Cupolas peeked out of the shingle roof, hinting at a second story. Lining the front of the porch were bushes with purplish pink blossoms the size of Sean’s fist.

Getting out of the car wasn’t pleasant. He moved slowly, bracing himself as he reached to unbuckle the seat belt. Didn’t make a difference. A dull ache of pain spiked from his collarbone and radiated down his shoulder. The black sling he wore inhibited movement. The doctors said he’d need to work on mobility if he wanted to be able to regain his spot on the surfing World Championship Tour in time to keep his place in the top half of competitors.

He wanted to regain his spot.

He wanted to badly. His entire career had been about consistency and determination. He had the skills, and he also had the means to move up.

This should have been Sean’s year. The reigning champion, Tanner Wright, had retired to open a surf school and boink his supersweet girlfriend, so the rankings had all been given a sweet shake-up. If Sean didn’t move into the top ten this year, he’d have to take a good long, hard look at what he was doing. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be the ’CT winner.

Sean wouldn’t allow that. It didn’t fit his plans.

A six-inch plaque by the doorbell confirmed yet again that he was in the right place. The words SANTA BARBARA REHAB were on the first line, with ANNIE BAXTER, DPT inscribed below. But when he rang the doorbell, there was no response. He rang it again, hearing peals echo through the small house.

He wasn’t completely surprised, since he didn’t have an appointment. But he did have information that said Annie Baxter could always be found at her offices on Saturday mornings because she ran an unofficial drop-in program for disadvantaged teenagers.

He sighed, but damned if that didn’t send another spike of pain through him as his shoulders shifted. He ground his back teeth together. He needed to talk to Baxter. It wasn’t too much to expect the doctor to be where she was supposed to be.

A hollow, wooden sound caught his attention. Even though he hadn’t heard the noise in person for at least five or six years, he’d have known it anywhere. Skateboard wheels rolling over wood. More particularly, over a wooden ramp.

It was coming from the back of the house. He followed the echo down the porch stairs, then down a path lined with foxtail grasses that were lush and verdant despite the barely waking spring.

The backyard was skater heaven. The Japanese wave painting Sean could never remember the name of decorated the sloping sides of an empty old-school-style pool. At the far end, a ten-foot-tall half pipe filled the only bit of spare flat area.

A kid dropped his board from the table into the vert, knees bending into the dip. He slipped effortlessly back and forth, getting higher and higher until he finally launched into the air at the other end. He kept it easy, barely touching his board as he flew. He wore a helmet and dark blue hoodie that swallowed his small frame and contrasted with his slim-cut jeans.

Sean waited as patiently as he could until the skateboarder came to earth and drew to a stop. “Hey, bro, have you seen Dr. Baxter?” The skateboarder paused for a second before pulling off the black helmet and turning around. Stubby dark ponytail. Delicate features with wide-set eyes.

Sean immediately rearranged his assumptions. “Sorry, I mean—may I have a moment of your time, Dr. Baxter?”

One finely arched eyebrow lifted even higher. “I don’t deal with pros.”

Being recognized wasn’t anything new for Sean. The first time, he had been at the mall in Brea, eating tacos at the food court, when a couple dudes fell all over themselves talking about his first Prime tour win. And that had been before his pro career really took off, when he’d still been biking himself to the beach on the weekends and returning home to his mother’s filthy house.

He hoped he never really got used to being famous. Because damn, did it still feel good. His chin lifted and he probably smiled some. The hot satisfaction lifted his mood so high that he could almost forget about the constant throb that ached through his shoulder.

“So you know who I am?”

She made a soft little psh sound and tucked her helmet under her arm as she started toward the back door of the house. “Everyone in California knows who you are. And everyone who knows surfing knows you were drunk and shouldn’t have been on the water. Not to mention what the fallout could do to your career.”

That was the downside. Everyone did know what a douche he’d been in Bali. He’d been drinking mai tais with a pretty waitress, and he had taken a rollicking turn toward trouble from that moment. He knew he should never have surfed, but he did it anyway because he was such a fucking sucker for a pretty face.

His fists curled, but he immediately drew a deep breath as he tried to loosen up. Tight meant pain lately. He’d learned his lesson.

“Then you know how desperate I am for help.”

She slanted a gaze at him out of the corners of her eyes, dropping her board to the ground and her helmet to a folding chair. “I’ve heard hints.”

“I have a tweaked collarbone. It’s causing some shoulder impingement. There’s more technical stuff, but I’d have to have the files sent over to you. I have six weeks. I can’t let recovery take any longer than that.”

The laugh she dropped into the air between them sounded almost bitter, and completely disbelieving. Her mouth was small but plump. She was kind of small all over. If she stood next to him, she’d come only to his sternum. “Recovery for a collarbone injury could take up to sixteen weeks. Maybe longer if you’re foolish and push yourself harder than you need to.”

“I can’t allow that long.” He moved toward her, but not too close. Women were delicately balanced creatures, and there was a fine line between charming them and being an icky kind of invasive. “Six weeks keeps me out of competition at Bells Beach and in Rio. I’m missing the Margaret River Pro this very minute. Six weeks means I’m in the water in time for Fiji. I have no choice with Margaret River and Bells Beach, and I’m going to have to choke that up. I can probably even afford zeroing August’s event. Probably. But I have to get back on the ’CT by Fiji. I can’t afford to drop out of the top twenty-two. Considering that I’ll still be in recovery, I’ll have a hard enough time requalifying for next year.”

“I can give you references to three very good physical therapists. They have a practice on the other side of San Sebastian.”

“I don’t want very good. I want the best.” And according to every bit of research he’d culled in the week since his injury, that was Annie Baxter.

But she didn’t give a crap. She wasn’t even bothering to look at him, which was like nails on a chalkboard to Sean. He thrived on attention, and he usually got it. He wasn’t above admitting that.

She pulled the blue sweatshirt off, revealing a cream button-down shirt with minuscule puff sleeves. Even though the blouse was completely feminine, the way it was paired with slim, low-slung jeans emphasized her distinct lack of curves. She had little breasts and boyish hips. Exactly the opposite of Sean’s type, but that didn’t seem to matter when he looked at that mouth of hers. Adorably filthy. “Then you’re screwed.”

But Sean knew there was one thing Dr. Annie Baxter cared a whole hell of a lot about. Finding info on that had been dead easy. He tipped his head down, looking at the petite pixie, and he found himself using his silkiest tone of voice when he said, “Do you want your drop-in center funded?”

Her eyebrows flew up toward her hairline as she whipped back to face Sean. “You’ve got a spare three million sitting around?”

He smirked. Everyone had a price, even if they thought themselves the noble type. It was only a matter of finding it. “I do. Do you want it?”

She gave another of those laughs and stuck her hand out, palm up. “Sure. Right here. You can make the check out to the Clear Ride Foundation.”

“Nothing is free.”

She dropped into one of the wicker seats, hands resting on the arms. Her legs stretched out in front of her, as short as they were. She crossed them at the ankles and laced her fingers in front of her stomach. Her belt buckle was round and yellow, with a black X on it. “You mean to pay me three million for physical therapy for a collarbone injury?”

“Sure. Is that an X-Men belt buckle?”

Bright red washed across her cheeks, making her look both older and younger at the same time in a mix of innocence and chagrin. “I know, I know. I’m a total geek.”

He shrugged, but instantly regretted it when pain smacked him upside the shoulder again. When he pushed too far, the hurt washed all the way through his chest and upper back. He was gonna be schooled out of shrugging right quick. Fuck, he was tired. “I recognized it. That’s gotta be equally geeky.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, and at first Sean wondered if he’d gone too far. He’d never been a hundred percent sure which side of the social lines he walked. It wasn’t like he’d had a normal childhood, which was when most people learned normal human interactions. He’d come from shit. Literally.

“Do you know why I’m the best?” Her eyes narrowed, and a line knit between her straight brows. “Because I’ll own you. Your diet and your exercise. How many times a week you get to surf. Whether you’ll go running or do a stair stepper. How much you stretch, andprecisely when you do it. How often you see me, or any other anything. Including massages.”

“Deal.”

“Including sex.”

“Deal.”

She scoffed. “You’re fucking full of it. This is one of the reasons why I don’t work with pros. You’re too damn full of yourselves. You don’t even stop to question whether you can handle it.”

His impulse was to cross his arms over his chest, but of course that was out. He settled for widening his stance and tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “There’s one thing you don’t understand. I will stay in the ’CT this year. The only question is whether I permanently fuck myself up in the process.”

Her mouth set into a mulish knot, but she pushed out of her chair and stepped toward him. “You’re an arrogant, foolish asshole.”

“I am.” He grinned, because he knew her body language said she was unwillingly intrigued. “But I’m an arrogant, foolish asshole who’s your patient.”

Chapter 2

Annie wasn’t sure why she kept arguing ten minutes more. When one protested too much, it took on the distinctive did-not, did-tooflavor of being eight and on the school yard playground all over again. Except that was the problem. Sean Westin made her feel about as self-assured as she’d been at eight. What a massive dork she’d been. Wearing blue kneesocks that were so big on her petite frame she’d had to pull them all the way up to her thighs, and a red corduroy skirt. No girls in the nineties owned corduroy. Ever.

She’d been painfully aware of her lack of coolness. In sixth grade, Elizabeth Manhein, also known as the Perfect Blonde, had teased Annie because she’d been the last one to shave her legs. The cool kids always made sure the not-cool kids knew their status. She’d thought she’d made it by the end of her senior year when she was considering her own pro surf career, but then Terry had cleared up those misapprehensions—and set her right back where she belonged.

So standing less than five feet from Sean Westin—the Sean Westin—made the backs of her knees sweat. It made a ball of nerves twist up and take over her whole stomach. There wasn’t much she could do about it, except hang on to the false bravado she’d cultivated over the past fifteen years.

But goddamn, was he cute. More than that. Gorgeous. Beautiful in a way that was perfectly masculine. His dark hair was the same length as his artfully scruffy beard. His eyes were so crisply blue, they reminded her of the time she’d been to Cancun for spring break. She’d spent most of the trip dreadfully sober since she remembered all too well how vulnerable alcohol made her, and she’d spent her time watching her friends make asses of themselves in bars. Hanging out at the beach during the day had brought back sharp memories of her own near miss of a pro surfing career. The water had been the same perfect blue as Sean Westin’s eyes, and there was something hauntingly beautiful about them.

After another minute or two of arguing, Annie threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll take you on. You might as well come in and fill out the new-patient paperwork.”

Turning on her heel, she stomped through the back door, wincing when she saw the state of her mudroom. She’d left piles of gear in the corner from the last time she’d led the kids on a hike at San Onofre—and someone had left a stack of swim fins in the giant sink. The laundry room wasn’t much better. She kept donation clothes on hand for any of the drop-in kids who needed them. It was ridiculous how long one of them would wear the same sweatshirt before admitting he didn’t own another one and that was the reason it stank. But that was why Annie hadn’t caught up on laundry in the past nine months.

And she didn’t think she was projecting, but it seemed like she could feel the weight of Sean’s disapprobation like claws digging into her shoulders. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Well, too damn bad, he was the one who’d come to her.

He was the one who’d called her the best. She bit back a little smile at that memory. The past four years of private practice hadn’t been easy. On more than one occasion, she’d been tempted to throw her DPT degree away and run the shelter full-time. Letting someone else direct her practice would have been so much easier than trying to balance all the pieces of her life. But she’d worked damn hard for the privilege of her physical therapy career too.

If Sean didn’t like how messy she kept things, he could suck eggs.

She was thankful the back section of her clinic was much tidier. She pushed open the door to a corridor between consultation rooms, then led him into the front office, which had been created out of a spacious dining room. It was a little unusual to use a residence as an office, but it’d been converted in the seventies by a general practitioner who wanted to work out of his home. Annie hadn’t been able to resist the Craftsman charm. The old GP’s backyard pool had been the absolute capper.

She had drained it straight away.

Fishing her key ring out of her pocket, she unlocked her secretary’s filing cabinet and pulled out a new-patient packet. “Here. Most of these you can take home and fill out, but it’ll be helpful if you could sign a records request from your doctor.”

“Writing isn’t so easy right now.”

She managed not to roll her eyes. “Think around the corner, Sean.”

“I’m right-handed. Exactly what do you want me to do?”

Pulling out the sheet she needed immediately, she laid it out along with a pen that she pulled from a cup on Cynthia’s desk. It had a fake flower taped to it to keep patients from accidentally wandering away with it. “I need it legible, not pretty.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but then shut those pretty lips. Wise man. He dug his phone out of the pocket of his slacks. God, even the fact that he wore slacks with an obviously tailored button-down shirt on a Saturday morning meant she shouldn’t be messing with the dude.

She was probably the foolish one. This was ridiculous. She’d had a tiny taste of the pro sports world, and it had been bitter. Awful. She’d stayed away ever since, and she got enough work with regular people who had it hard getting insurance companies to pay for physical therapy. Bending her personal ethics because he was offering such an exorbitant price . . . She didn’t want to think of what that said about her. It probably wasn’t flattering.

Did doing awful things still count for good if she had the right motives behind them? Probably not. There was all that talk about the road to hell being paved with good intentions and the like.

Sean finished the form and pushed it back across the desk. “There. If the doc doesn’t recognize my signature, I guess he can call me.”

“These kinds of forms are often mostly for record keeping.”

“Covering your ass. Lovely,” he said with dry wit. “Isn’t that exactly what I want to hear about the state of my health care?”

She took the sheet and flipped it around, scanning through the information. “The state of your health care is just fine. I know your doctor. He’s good.”

“Like I said, I don’t want good. I want the best.” He said it with a wry smile, one that said he was aware of how arrogant he sounded. He dripped attitude. He was someone who deliberated every step he took and knew how to get what he wanted precisely when he wanted it.

She was going to have a hell of a time tipping his life upside down. Everyone knew about Sean Westin. His ability to be a party boy extraordinaire as well as a championship surfer made him something of a marvel. But now he’d pushed too far. He’d been too reckless. He was going to have to do more than a few stretches to make sure he didn’t lose his grip. “Tell me about the accident.”

“Didn’t you read Nate’s account?”

Nate Coker was his Coyote surfing team comember. The guy had tweeted about Sean’s busted collarbone and had posted a few photos to Instagram. Injury in the days of social media. That wasn’t even counting the bloggers who’d reported on it in the following days. Sean Westin was big business as a man who’d made his face familiar on a household level. At one point, he’d even done national commercials for top-shelf vodka. Pity his career wasn’t keeping up with his moneymaking. He was a midrange surfer. But, of course, being midrange on the World Championship Tour still said a lot.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the waist-high customer counter. She wasn’t used to a patient being on this side of the desk. “Humor me. I ask that every patient tell me about the precipitating incident, when possible. It gives me clues about the nature of the injury and also about the nature of the person. The ways to go forward are often myriad. It helps to be able to narrow things down.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re awfully smart?”

“More times than I can count.”

He hitched one lean hip on the side of the desk. His thumb ran over the seam down the front of his slacks, over and over again. She wondered if he realized the nervous tell, or if he was one of those guys who thought he was perfectly put together at all times. She preferred the men who had at least some level of self-awareness. They were more manageable and didn’t require her to take a baseball bat to their heads.

“I know people think I was drunk, but I wasn’t.” His gaze burned into hers, filled with intensity, almost as if he were willing her to believe him.

As well he might, since her belief was a little bit on short order. “Nate said you’d been drinking in a dive bar.”

“Because he’d been drinking. And I’d had a drink. I’m not going to deny that.”

His mouth set into a flat line. His lips weren’t particularly finely shaped—he was missing much of a bow at the top of his mouth. But there was something about the way he talked. . . . It was almost as if he was considering every single word, though at such a fast clip that most people wouldn’t notice. He was . . . deliberately fast. That was it, as if he were slinging the patois of a carny barker.

“You know what they say about driving. Even one is too many.” She baited him deliberately, trying to see if he’d rise to the occasion. Or if he’d deal calmly.

“I had two over the course of the morning—”

“Morning?” she repeated. “Seems like that’s pretty hard-core if you’re drinking before noon.”

He shook his head. “It was Bali. Beach life. It’s normal to start drinking around ten thirty, because we’d been up since four and would probably crash out at dusk. It’s like life on a deserted island when you’re filming.”

“But your island wasn’t deserted. There was a pretty local girl.”

“Her name was Eoun, and yeah, she was really pretty. But she was really nice too. When a few locals came in and started giving her shit, I stepped in.”

The laugh burst out of her abruptly and awkwardly. She shoved her fingers over her mouth, smashing her lips against her teeth, but she couldn’t hold the laugh in. “Did you challenge them to a surf off?”

He shot her a look from under his brows that said he was much less than amused. “Very funny, Dr. Baxter.”

“Sorry, but I just don’t see the leap from a waitress getting hassled to you injuring yourself surfing.”

“I have a reputation for fighting. I’ve been sanctioned twice.”

“I know,” she said, beaming a slightly obnoxious smile at him. “Trust me. It’s on the mental list I’m compiling of things to address immediately.”

The unimpressed look didn’t go away. “I couldn’t afford to get in a fight. I’m too low in the rankings this year to cope with point penalties from the ASP.”

The Association of Surfing Professionals—Annie knew that one. She didn’t follow the World Championship Tour devotedly anymore, but she knew the ASP still managed it. Sanctions from them would cause any competitor problems, most especially one who was in danger of not making next year’s cutoff. “Fighting is a poor relief for conflict, anyhow. It usually only serves to deepen tensions.”

“You’ve obviously never been on a boat with ten men filming a surf vid for three weeks. Fighting is practically like playing poker. It’s a means of passing the time.”

“Thanks for putting a name to my worst nightmare. I hate violence.”

His mouth tweaked up at the corners. “Certain kinds of violence are recreational.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. There was something about the way he’d said that, giving weight to the phrase, that made her nipples tighten and her stomach turn wobbly with sudden heat. Good Lord, that was such a bad idea, she didn’t even know how to express it. She didn’t need to be sexually attracted to a client. Especially since that client had already put a strange twist on their relationship by offering a fee that verged on bribery.

Business. Therapist and patient and nothing else. She pushed herself back into proper territory. “Get on with the story, please.”

“You’re a hard case, Doc.” But he gave a little nod. “It sounds completely dorky, like a Gidget movie gone wild, but yeah, it practically was a surf off. They were talking smack, and I started talking smack back. I had a stack of borrowed boards anyway, since I’d left my favorites in Australia for the Margaret River Pro. The next thing I knew, we were all out in thirty-foot surf. It was just short of needing a tow-in.”

“You were able to paddle out.” She made a note on a small pad at the counter.

“I was even able to surf one wave. Then a second. But it was the third one. I dropped off the lip too hard and came down on the front. My knee twisted, and my board slipped. I free-fell into the front of the wave.”

“I assume that wasn’t enough on its own to cause the injury?”

He shook his head. “I had my arm out for balance. The wave pulled me one way while the ocean sucked me down.”

“Were you concussed?”

“No. I didn’t black out either. I remember every second of the pain.”

“Did you receive treatment in Bali?” She scribbled more on the pad, but she wasn’t really taking much in the way of notes. Every word of his story was scratched with more than just his pain—his determination and fire snapped through every word. She was doing her best to keep her head in the right frame of mind and not watch his eyes burn.

“Some first aid, but Coyote flew me back to the States as soon as possible.”

“Good enough.” She capped her pen. “Mr. Westin, I look forward to the next eight weeks.”

He leaned forward, coming away from the desk. His shoulders were wide underneath his pale blue button-down shirt. The sling did nothing to dent his image. He hadn’t taken even a nibble of her bait when she’d pushed him about the initial incident, but at this he suddenly seemed like a live wire. “Six weeks. I need time to get my game together.”

“Eight,” she replied calmly. “I won’t promise you six. My program will be intensive, difficult, and, as it is, shorter than I’d like it to be.”

He bit back a sigh. The lines of his neck were sharp as blades. “Then I suppose you should call me Sean. It seems like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Chapter 3

Sean knew he had issues. Plenty of them. Well, even that was hedging it a bit. More like he had a duffel’s worth of issues wedged into an overnight bag. Things were busting out at the edges.

Like the fact that he didn’t want Annie in his house. It wasn’t anything personal against her. Actually, she seemed pretty cool so far. Less like a stuffy doctor and more like a . . . life coach, maybe. She was slightly snarky, and it almost seemed like her sarcasm oozed out around her words unintentionally. Sean liked that. His strange upbringing meant he sometimes missed that people put up false fronts. He took them at face value, accepting their word that they were exactly the person they presented themselves to be. If he believed the faces he was presented with, people would give him the same courtesy. And he’d had plenty of secrets to keep as a kid and into his teen years.

Which was still related to not wanting anyone in his place. He was sitting on the cement brick wall that lined his short driveway before it dipped into the underground garage. His legs bounced, heels lifting off the backs of his flip-flops. The fingers of his left hand sought purchase on the wall at his hips, but each digit only scraped over the concrete. He had a bad habit of biting his nails to the quick.

Telling himself to get a fucking grip didn’t help much. The front of his house wasn’t designed to be useful for pacing, but he pushed up from his seat anyway. He managed, going ten feet one way by picking around carefully balanced beach plants chosen to emphasize the local habitat. He’d paid a lot for the gardening. He’d paid a lot for the house, too, so it had seemed only fair.

He liked his place. It was custom built, and he’d picked everything from the land to the roof plus everything in between. The labor of love had been done long distance as he traveled to Bali and Teahupoo and Indo during construction. There had been walk-throughs when he was in town, and making decisions via Skype when he wasn’t.

It was kind of ironic that he’d put so much effort into a home, considering what had once happened to the house he’d grown up in.

Annie’s surprisingly beat-up Nissan Pathfinder pulled in alongside the curb. The SUV had once been dark red, but its fading topcoat made it look closer to gray, and the back right window had a two-foot-long crack running through it. When she hopped out, Annie craned her neck to take in the full view of the tall, narrow-fronted beach house.

“Nice ride, Doc,” he drawled. It came out more sarcastic than he’d intended, but that was probably his nerves coming through. “At least I know my three million won’t be wasted on fast cars and loose women.”

She leveled a dark-eyed gaze at him. Her eyebrows lifted; then her lashes flicked back toward her SUV. “Maybe not fast cars. But I don’t think we’ve ruled out loose women, have we?”

He choked down the laugh that sprang up from nowhere, but he wasn’t sure why he bothered. She made him laugh. That ought to be a good thing. But there was something about her that left him slightly on guard and unable to drop his defenses. She was his therapist, and there would be forced proximity to navigate. She wasn’t one of his usual, no-strings-attached sort of girls.

Why he was thinking even slightly in that direction he had no idea. She was about as far from those usual girls as possible. He liked them tall, so they looked appropriately dramatic when he walked the red carpet with one on his arm. Their blond hair helped balance his darkness when it came to the surfer image he carefully cultivated. He didn’t look like a world championship surfer . . . and Annie didn’t look like a world championship surfer’s date.

In fact, she looked more like one of the street kids she sheltered at her center than anything else. Another pair of skinny jeans clung to her narrow hips. Her hoodie was still a dark color, but this time it had a silk screen that suggested a female comedy duo for presidential election. Sean would vote for them, considering the newest scandal pushing through Congress lately. They seemed more legit to him.

“You’re too casual for loose women,” he pointed out. “They wouldn’t take a second look at you.”

“Not you, though, right, Sean?” She meandered up the short walkway. “You’re just right for that type.”

“Maybe they’re just right for me.”

“Are you going to let me in?”

He kept his smile as casual as he could, but there was no denying his flinch. Christ, he needed to suck it up. He reached past her to push open the door. She was little, coming only to the top of his chest, but her spine never bent. She was steel and wire as they were knotted together in the small alcove. Her chin lifted up farther.

“I’m still not sure why this is necessary,” he groused.

She sailed past him into the foyer. Her hair was caught up in another of those snubby ponytails, but the front was a dark fringe that hung into her eyes and covered her ears. She glanced back over her shoulder, but he barely got more than a flash of brown eyes completely ringed in black eyeliner and a smudge of black shadow. “If you’re going to start arguing at this point, I might as well walk away.”

“Three million.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her back pockets. She stood in the middle of his living room, where slanted ceilings drew the eye to two-story windows. Though she wore shiny black boots, they had a little rim of pink between the top and the sole and pink laces up the front. “This isn’t going to work like that, Sean. You’re donating the cash to my center. Your choice. If it doesn’t come from you, I’ll go back to my five-year plan. No harm, no foul. I’m not going to become your lapdog because of the money.”

“Seems a shame. You’re about the size of a lapdog.”

Her head tilted to the side, that dark brown hair shifting. “You’re being childish. Is your injury causing you any problems? Does your shoulder hurt?”

His first impulse was to tell her to fuck off. He was being childish because she pushed him to extreme responses. She was standing here. In his house.

But since hitting adulthood, he’d made a conscious decision to not lie. He’d been so desperate throughout his childhood that he’d been forced to lie all the time. Constantly. Every breath in lunchrooms and at recess had been a lie while he pretended that everything was just fine, absolutely normal.

He didn’t lie anymore. “Hurts like a son of a bitch. I tried to roll over when I woke up, before I remembered what an idiot I was.”

“Not your best moment. Have you taken anything?”

He shook his head. “I don’t like the pills. They’re strong.”

“They’re strong for a reason. Because the pain is strong. Where do you keep them?”

“Kitchen.”

That was enough for her. She spun on one booted heel and marched toward the back of the house, peeking in every room as she went. The kitchen was sleek and clean. The cabinets were glassed in, with an edge of chrome. He’d considered wood but wanted to avoid a cutesy feel. Even the fridge was glass-fronted, with stainless steel drawers beneath for the freezer.

Annie whistled. “Jesus. Between the size of this joint and this room, I don’t even want to think about how much your maid service runs.”

“I have a housekeeper.”

Her mouth tucked into a smile on one side. “That doesn’t really surprise me, somehow. Is she a little old lady with gray hair who leaves a cake out on your birthday?”

He snagged the bottle of pills from the cabinet next to the six-burner stove and leaned against the waist-high butcher-block-topped island. “Actually, she’s a he. A twenty-seven-year-old guy named Keiji who usually leaves a bottle of Patrón out on my birthday. He’s not one for cake, but he makes a really fucking killer chicken alfredo.”

“Yeah. Okay, I suck for that one. Stereotypes for the win.” She winced and sighed, rubbing her fingertips over her brow. “Ugh, I feel like shit now.”

He touched his knuckles to her upper arm in the gentlest punch ever. “Nah, don’t be so hard on yourself. I know Keiji is unusual. When I put out an ad for a housekeeper, I was expecting a little old lady too. Keiji was putting himself through his second year of college at UC Irvine and needed the money badly. Now he’s worked for me for eight years.”

“He stuck around after he was finished with school?”

“I pay really well.” As well he should. Sean’s standards were crazy high, and he liked his things in a particular order. Keiji had come with Sean from a rented apartment on Twelfth Street to this house once it had been built. Disruption was unnecessary.

Seemingly without thinking, she grabbed a glass from one of the open-view cabinets and filled it with cool tap water. She set it in front of him, took the pill bottle from his hands, and then consulted both the dosage instructions and her watch. “It’s seven thirty. If one isn’t enough, you can have one more at eight thirty, as needed. Otherwise about an hour after lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased. But when she tipped one capsule into the lid and held it out to him, he took it obediently. “I just don’t like how fuzzy they make me.”

“If you don’t take them, your body has to concentrate on mitigating pain rather than healing itself. You’ll only delay the process. If you hurt, you take them. End of story.”

“You’re a bossy little thing.”

She grinned. “You bought bossy with your three mil. Feel like a good bargain?”

His smile surged up in response to hers. “Depends. What are you doing here at half past seven?”

“We’re going to have a purge.” She opened the door next to the fridge, obviously banking on its being a pantry. “Normally I’m an advocate of balanced living, including balanced eating. But if you want immediate results, you’re going to have to concentrate on a diet that operates at the highest possible nutrition level.”

She was right, but his pantry was basically stripped bare compared to the average person’s stores. Sean didn’t cook much, preferring to dine out at expensive restaurants. When he was home, he asked Keiji to cook with locally sourced, fresh products. It kept things easier, with the added benefit of avoiding stockpiling too much of anything in his house. “You’re not going to find a secret stash of Little Debbies, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

She flashed a cheeky smile over her shoulder. “Little Debbies are your weakness, huh? I’ll have to remember that for an end-of-treatment celebration.”

He could think of something else she could give him for an end-of-treatment prize. Maybe something involving the ass she was showing off by bending at the waist to look at the lower shelves of his pantry. It was a small ass but sweetly curved enough for his hand. He had the instant, absurd impulse to pat her.

Wouldn’t that go over well? She’d probably punch him. Or maybe he’d get off lucky and she’d just walk out, probably with several snarky comments. He hid his involuntary chuckle against a loose fist.

She jerked upright. “What was that?”

“Nothing. What are you looking for?”

“No particular item. I’m trying to get an idea of your general taste and where we can proceed from here.” She poked around in his fridge next, and that made his back teeth set on edge. He wasn’t used to anyone touching his stuff. Which, Christ, sounded way too much like his mother talking inside his head. He took a slow, deep breath and pushed it out again. This was no big deal. Nothing to worry about.

Possessions were simply objects, nothing more. They weren’t memories in solid form, and they had only the emotions people imbued them with. That was it.

Pity his mom had never been able to think of them like that.

Chapter 4

Annie had never been in a house quite like this one. It was . . . gorgeous. There were no two ways about it. Sleek and modern, every line was intentionally chosen for maximum impact. Glass glittered everywhere, but it didn’t make the space feel cold. Touches like the butcher-block-topped island stretching seven feet through the center of the kitchen warmed the rooms. An abstract mosaic with Moroccan flavor topped the archway leading into the dining room.

The contents of the kitchen had been a different kind of surprise. She’d expected plenty of junk food, metabolized by his obviously devoted surfing career and crammed in among dinners out. Most of the pros she knew from her days before school had been like that. They’d justified eating crap and drinking their brains out by the fact that they surfed or swam or skateboarded five hours a day. They didn’t take into account the long period spent chilling on their boards, floating on the water as they waited for the “perfect” set, or the long-term detriment to their cholesterol, kidneys, and liver. Especially their livers, considering the drinking.

She’d been there. She surfed with the best of them, for a while. The levels of indulgence were infuriating.

She should know. When she was fifteen, she’d been seduced by the bright lights of going pro. There was a well-trod path to the goal of sponsorship. She’d kept on that track for three years.

Getting screwed over in an epic way tended to clean the stars out of a girl’s eyes.

It wasn’t as if a gorgeous house like this would have come if she’d gone pro, anyway. The women’s circuits had less than twenty percent of the prize money of the men’s World Championship Tour. She’d have been fighting for accolades and attention, and that wasn’t enough for her, considering the costs demanded in return. She needed more.

She needed to do more.

So she’d used surfing to nail a scholarship to UC San Diego. While she was there, she’d surfed her ass off in the National Scholastic Surfing Association for her team . . . but once she was done, she was done. She’d walked away from any hint of pro surfing and taken her shiny new degree off to med school. It had been the right thing.

Pro surfers had drive that took them to a higher level—and mowed over everyone around them on the way up.

But Jesus, if it got them houses like this, maybe she’d made the wrong choice. “Where do you keep the alcohol?”

He was so annoyingly smug sometimes. He slung a thumb in the pockets of his perfectly tailored slacks. “Why do you assume I have booze?”

She shot him a look that said she wasn’t born yesterday. “Puh-leeze. You’re Sean Westin. You’re in the tabloids every other month, photographed at expensive clubs, with expensive women and expensive booze.”

“Don’t assume. Who’s to say those glasses aren’t filled with tea? Or tonic water with lime?”

Her stomach dropped. Had she misjudged him? She’d gotten enough of that shit herself, people who assumed her slightly tomboy look meant she was gay or butch or a shoplifter or antisocial. It sucked, but she’d learned the hard way that living for other people just wasn’t worth it.

But then he broke into a laugh. Lines spilled out from the corners of his eyes. “No, I totally drink. No sainthood here. There are two bars in the place. A wet bar in the study and a less formal one on the lanai.”

“Let’s start at the lanai,” she replied dryly. Keeping up with him had her on her toes, and that wasn’t only referring to matching his long-legged stride.

At least following behind him meant that she could check out his ass. While she was fully aware that ass checking was the last thing in the world she should be doing as his physical therapist, it was a little difficult to strip her gaze away from that tight curve. His slacks were a fine material that pulled taut over his bum when he twisted open the sliding glass door. Damn, he dressed nicely.

If professional surfers usually dressed like he did, maybe she’d been hanging out with skaters too long. Her friends all wore board shorts and cargoes. Sometimes jeans appeared if the weather dipped below forty-five degrees. None of them had button-downs like the one stretched across Sean’s shoulders. He was insanely fit, which went to show poor choices could make even the most fit susceptible to injury.

Man, she was going to have a hard time keeping herself together when he was undergoing physical therapy. At least she didn’t have to be the one to administer it herself. She’d be a horrible therapist if this was how she looked at patients.

Not that any of them looked like Sean Westin.

Not that any of the men in the entire world looked like Sean Westin.

Annie’s whole living space could fit into Sean’s lanai. Considering that she lived on the upper floors of the same building that held her business, it wasn’t saying that much, but she suddenly realized why this room was called a lanai instead of a patio. It had a roof, for one thing, and walls along two sides, though they were open-framed and lined with Japanese-style screens that would be enough to keep a neighbor from peeking at anything going on inside.

The furniture was low to the ground and upholstered in pale white cottons to match the screens. They’d be the perfect chairs for Sean to throw himself into after a hard surfing session. The bar wasn’t hidden along a back wall, but instead installed as a central feature. It looked like something from a Blade Runner set, sleek black and knee-high with a recessed door in the center that was likely a fridge. The round arrangement would allow guests to grab what they wanted instead of having a designated bartender.

All of it paled compared to the space where the third wall would have been. Except anyone who’d put up a wall there would have to be smoking something made out of sinus medicines in the back bedroom of a trailer.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Ahead in the Heat Heats Up the Pages.
By VampBard
Quickie Review. Warm weather. Rippling ocean water. A man out of his element, and a woman longing to return to hers…even though she didn’t know it. Sean and Annie’s story is one of the sweetest I’ve read in a while.

Athletes have always intrigued me. From the time I entered high school, I have always appreciated a fit male form as a work of art. Athletes are artists. They sculpt their bodies to perfection. When they fail, or are injured, there’s all sorts of emotions. Reasoning, begging, and rehab. Lots and lots of rehab. Sean has come back home after a bad wipe-out on the surfing World Championship Tour, and needs rehab on his torn-up shoulder. Great athletes want the best for their bodies, and they don’t skimp on physical therapists when the need arises. It was interesting watching Sean’s emotional investment through the course of the book. I was surprised at several points by things Sean said and did. Even though the story turned out just fine.

Annie has been burned by the surfing world. She’s also the best physical therapist. Period. With a heart of gold, she offers her home / office as a haven for youth. She aspires to do more for the kids than she currently is, and has plans to make it happen. With demons of her own, Annie goes through some pretty amazing changes. She’s also got a huge moral compass that keeps her doing the right things, and helping others. I really liked Annie because even though she was just a little thing, she was FIERCE.

I think the best thing about Ahead in the Heat is that it’s told in a natural manner. It’s believable. I feel like I know the characters, and that I could hang out with them. Double-date. I connected with the characters as though they were good friends. There’s probably other things, but I can’t quite put my finger on them. I think it’s a compilation. The way Ms. Brown twined Sean and Annie together felt natural and it tugged at my heart. I think I may have gotten wrapped-up in the story and I let the emotion roll me through the book. It’s that hard-to-define ‘I love this book’ state.

I'm loving the Pacific Blue series. It’s earned the number one slot for sports stories for me. I can’t wait to read future installments!

***I received a complimentary copy of this title in exchange for an honest review***

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Two Stars
By Woogitrae
The story had great potential. However it wasn't a great written story.

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