Title: Best Kind of Broken
Series: Finding Fate #1
Author: Chelsea Fine
Paperback Release: January 13, 2015
SOMETIMES MOVING ON MEANS MOVING IN
Pixie Marshall wishes every day she could turn back time and fix the past. But she can't. And the damage is done. She's hoping that a summer of free room and board working with her aunt at the Willow Inn will help her forget. Except there's a problem: the resident handyman is none other than Levi Andrews. The handsome quarterback was once her friend-and maybe more-until everything changed in a life-shattering instant. She was hoping to avoid him, possibly forever. Now he's right down the hall and stirring up feelings Pixie thought she'd long buried . . .
Levi can't believe he's living with the one person who holds all his painful memories. More than anything he wants to make things right, but a simple "sorry" won't suffice-not when the tragedy that scarred them was his fault. Levi knows Pixie's better off without him, but every part of him screams to touch her, protect her, wrap her in his arms, and kiss away the pain. Yet even though she's so close, Pixie's heart seems more unreachable than ever. Seeing those stunning green eyes again has made one thing perfectly clear-he can't live without her.
You know how after reading the first page,
you just know that this is going to be a good book?!? This was that book for
me! I absolutely loved it from page one and couldn’t stop reading it. It really
had it all; I laughed, I cried, I smiled until my mouth hurt, I frowned, I got
chills. And don’t forget the sexual tension – so good!!!
We meet Levi and Pixie, two broken souls.
Both have suffered the same tragedy, but instead of helping each other through
it, they grieve separately in their own way. Yet the underlying current of lust
and love is always present.
“I try not to react because, hell, he can’t
win. He can’t just be asshole Levi all day long and then climb into my bed at
night and touch me wherever he pleases. Ugh. Yes he can.”
Levi is a star quarterback who is currently
a handyman at Pixie’s Aunt Ellen’s inn. He holds a ton of guilt and is just
going through the motions. Pixie is a painter and a mess. She is hilarious and snarky
and I loved her!
“Good God. I work at
Hotel Horny Women. Welcome to Hotel Horny Women, home of scruffy cheese and
sensual produce.”
The rest of the
cast – their friends and the inn employees are fantastic as well, especially
Ellen, the aunt, and Jenna, Pixie’s best friend.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed this – needed HIM – until right this moment.”
I simply cannot say anything more than READ THIS BOOK! YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT!! (And I’m super excited to find out this is the start of a series)
~ Review by Tiffany
It’s late, and
most of the inn guests are already asleep.
I wait until I
hear the TV click on in Levi’s room before I start plugging everything I own
into the wall.
We argued today.
We avoided each other. And aside from the weird look we exchanged in the hallway
this morning and our little spat in front of Zack, everything is back to
normal.
Which means I
owe Levi for the cold shower I had to take.
I turn
everything on and the lights go out. I hear the TV die in the next room and
crawl onto my bed with a smile.
“Pixie!” Levi’s
irritated voice rings through the walls and I’m feeling happier than a mature
person should.
I hear stomping,
and then he opens my bedroom door. Just opens it. Like he has the right to just
waltz into my room. I could be naked in here; he doesn’t know.
“You’re going
out to the fuse box this time.” He steps inside, and now he’s standing just a
few feet away, pointing his finger at me.
I’m on the bed,
trying to look casual, like lying in the dark playing games on my phone is
perfectly normal. The only light in the room is coming from the glow of my
phone and the half-moon outside, so we both look blue and soft. And in the blue
softness, I see he’s shirtless.
I see Levi
without a shirt on almost every morning, but I’ve never seen him half-naked in
the dark, and something about it makes my body feel electric.
“Not going to
happen,” I say.
He steps closer.
“Well, I sure as hell am not marching outside to turn the power back on.”
I shrug. “Fine
with me. I don’t need electricity tonight. I can watch TV on my fully charged
phone.” I wiggle said phone at him.
He sighs. “You
don’t understand. I was looking up the contact information for an alarm company
I found so I can call and schedule the installation tomorrow. I need the
Internet, Pix.”
“Then use your
phone.”
“My phone is
dead.”
The boy never
charges anything. He almost makes the whole fuse-blowing thing too easy.
“Well, that’s
too bad. I guess you’re going to have to turn the electricity back on after
all.” I pretend to be very interested in my game.
“Let me use your
phone. Just for a minute.”
“No.”
“Come on. It’s
for Ellen.” He implores me with a pouty face I’ve seen him use on his mom a
dozen times.
I scoff.
“Please.”
“Dammit, Pixie.”
The pout is gone.
“Maybe tomorrow
you’ll remember to charge your own phone. Or hey, better yet, maybe you’ll let
me have a hot shower.” I make a big production of pressing random buttons on my
phone.
He slumps his
shoulders like he’s accepting defeat, then whips out his arm and tries to swipe
the phone from my hands. Sneaky bastard.
I pull my phone
back and kick at him with my foot, but he grabs my ankle—because I’m not
exactly a ninja with my kicking skills—and then we both freeze.
Because now I’m
leaning back on the bed with my legs spread apart, and he’s got one hand on my
ankle and the other on the bed next to my hip where he was reaching for my
phone, and his body is in between my legs, which are completely bare except for
the tiny gym shorts I have on, and my right arm is raised over my head with my
cell phone still out of his reach, but my back is arched and my shirt has come
up so my stomach is completely exposed and I’m hot all over.
Hot. Heat.
Everywhere.
I mean, really.
We look like we’re in the middle of having sex, but with clothes on. My body
knows this. His body knows this. And our bodies are really, really happy about
this.
He’s looking at
me with nothing in his eyes except want.
And I like it. No, I love it.
This must show
on my face because his hand—still wrapped around my ankle—moves up my leg an
inch, and he watches my reaction.
I try not to
react because, hell, he can’t win. He
can’t just be asshole Levi all day long and then climb into my bed at night and
touch me wherever he pleases.
Ugh. Yes he can.
I part my lips
and he slowly, slowly slides his warm
hand up my calf and, holy hell, I could orgasm right here. I might, actually.
My calf.
My calf.
He’s touching my
calf and I’m more turned on than I’ve
ever been in my life.
His hand shifts
again, and the only thought in my head is, Go
higher, go higher.
Please, dear God, go higher.
Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She's ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.
