“A Secret for a Secret was such a refreshing read.
Kingston is all good and saintlike . . . until he's so not! A big
recommendation from me”
-- Tijan New York Times Bestselling Author
-- Tijan New York Times Bestselling Author
A Secret for a Secret, an
all-new not-to-be-missed sports romance guaranteed to bring all-the-feels by New York Times bestselling author Helena
Hunting, is out now!
From New York Times
bestselling author Helena Hunting comes a new romance about trading secrets,
breaking the rules, and playing for keeps.
My name is Ryan Kingston, and
I’m a rule follower. I’ve never been in a fistfight. I always obey the speed
limit. I don’t get drunk, and I definitely don’t pick up random women at bars.
Except the night I found out
that my whole existence has been a lie.
I got drunk. And picked up a
stranger.
Her name was Queenie, and she
was everything I’m not: reckless, impulsive, and chaotic. We did shots and
traded secrets. And ended up naked at my place.
She left me a thank-you note
in the morning and her panties as a parting gift. But no way to contact her.
Six weeks later I’m sitting
in the first official team meeting of the season, and there she is. I neglected
to mention that I’m the goalie for Seattle’s NHL team.
And Queenie? Turns out she’s the
general manager’s daughter.
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My Review
The King and his Queenie have finally
arrived!
The third in the "All In"
series focuses on Ryan Kingston "King" - the milk drinking, clean
cut, all-around nice guy goalie for the Seattle hockey team. He's the rule
follower, the one who is always in control...until the one night he gets
completely drunk and takes home the girl he met at the bar.
Queenie has just moved back home
after losing her job, and is living with her father. After a night at the bar
where she starts sucking back vodka martinis, and goes home with King. She
sneaks out before he wakes up, and leaves him a parting gift and a "bye
thanks for last-night" farewell on a post-it note.
Fast forward a few weeks, and Queenie
arrives with her father to start work as his assistant, and discovers that her
boy-scout one-night-stand from the bar is none other than the team Goalie!
The two have some smokin' chemistry,
and try to be professional and be friends, but of course, that doesn't work.
The title of this book is perfect - there's several secrets, his, hers, again
hers, theirs, and a few others. As with others in this series, it's an
absolutely fun read, and one that I truly hope continues. This one has the
Pucked cross-over of Violet, and some insights into their kids. Again, with the
others, this one leaves open the possibility of another book featuring
Queenie's father, Jake. I'm not even going to hint at his potential love
interest, but it's a good one if it pans out!
Excerpt:
“You think our GM got himself an
assistant?”
I follow his gaze to the front of the
room. Standing at the desk with her back to us, arranging papers, is a woman
with wavy chestnut hair that nearly reaches her waist. “Maybe an intern?”
She’s wearing a navy dress that
conforms to her very feminine form. I trace the dip of her waist and the curve
of her hip, skimming down to where the hem of her dress hits the bend in her
knee. Her calves are bare, athletic, and toned, and her heels boast a little
bow on the back. Classy, yet sexy. “Possibly.”
“I hope the eye candy is gonna be
permanent,” someone at the table behind us says, loud enough for everyone close
by to hear.
“I wouldn’t mind if she helped me
with my jockstrap,” one of the other guys chimes in, eliciting a loud chuckle
from the rest of the table.
I glance over my shoulder and pin
them with an unimpressed glare. I recognize Foley from Tampa, and Dickerson is
an LA trade. They’re notorious womanizers. “Watch your mouth and have some
respect. That’s someone’s daughter.”
“Take it easy, King. It’s not like
we’d actually say that to her face,” Foley says.
I don’t have an opportunity to
reprimand him further because the GM, Jake Masterson, and our head coach, Alex
Waters, enter the room through the side door. The GM crosses over to the woman,
whose back is still turned to us, and he gives her a smile that seems . . .
overly warm. He leans in and squeezes her shoulder as he says something with
his mouth close to her ear.
“Maybe she’s not his assistant. Maybe
she’s his new girlfriend, ’cause that looks pretty damn friendly to me.” Bishop
jams a sausage link into his mouth.
“Maybe,” I agree.
She turns slightly, giving me a
glimpse of her profile. Her cheeks are flushed pink. I blink a couple of times,
because she seems incredibly familiar.
“I think I know her,” I mumble, more
to myself than to Bishop.
“Not as well as our GM does, by the
look of things.”
It hits me like a puck in the chest
without pads on. I do know her. Queenie.
My one-night stand who bailed the next morning and left a Post-it and panties
hanging from my doorknob. Destroyed
panties. “Oh God.”
Did I sleep with the GM’s girlfriend? Memories come barreling into
my brain, and I want to sink into the floor. My behavior that night was highly
atypical. Everything about that night
was. I chalked it up to the alcohol, the family drama, and the fact that she
seemed to be a very eager and willing participant in our adventures. Do not think about the things you did to
her.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought
about Queenie and our night together. I’ve even considered driving by the bar
where we met, but I don’t know if she’s likely to show up there. And it’s not
as if I can ask the bartender about her without looking like a creep. Besides,
if she wanted me to have her number, she would’ve left it.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re
about to hurl,” Bishop asks.
I cover my mouth with my palm, not
because I’m going to be ill but to hide the fact that it’s hanging open and I
can’t seem to close it. Although my stomach is starting to do those awful
somersaults that will soon turn into full-on nausea. The kind I used to get
when I’d first hit the ice for a game.
This is bad. Really bad. I’ve never
had a one-night stand before. I’ve always been in committed relationships, and
I prefer to get to know my bed partners before they actually get into bed with
me. Teen pregnancy was pretty common where I grew up in Tennessee, because
there wasn’t much else to do apart from playing sports or getting into trouble
with drugs and alcohol—my brother, Gerald, went the latter route. I obviously
fit into the sports category. By the time I became a teenager, my parents had
finally learned their lesson. It was drilled into me to never become that kind
of statistic, or to turn my girlfriend into a mom before she was ready to take
on more than senior-level algebra.
Ironic how my actual mother would’ve
been one of those girls had my grandparents not made the choices they had.
“King?” Bishop nudges me. “You’re
staring, man.”
Jake whistles with his fingers,
causing the woman beside him to cringe but then quickly school her expression
into an uncertain smile. “Who’s ready for a new season?”
He’s rewarded with a chorus of cheers
from the players. Waters stands off to the side, clapping enthusiastically. He
generally runs all team meetings, but Jake is a hands-on GM, so he always
manages first meeting intros before he hands it over to our coach.
Jake waits for everyone to settle
down and take their seats before he continues. “Gentlemen, I’d like to
introduce you to my personal assistant, Queenie.” He throws his arm over her
shoulder and pulls her into his side.
A hot spike of anger rushes down my
spine—it’s a foreign feeling. I’m usually very level headed. But not right now.
It’s obvious by the way Jake and Queenie interact that there’s a relationship
there. Is she a cheater? Did she make me
one? There’s a definite age gap. He’s young for a GM, but he’s in his
forties, and I’m pretty sure she’s in her mid twenties.
“She also happens to be my daughter,
so don’t get any ideas, boys.” He somehow manages to wink and glare at the same
time.
And it just went from bad to worse.
My one-night stand isn’t my GM’s
girlfriend; she’s his daughter.
About Helena
Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the
outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately
intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst
to romantic sports comedy.
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