She lives by the book—and is still searching for her happily ever after.

Darcy Wilde has tried hard not to live up to her last name. As a librarian in Atlanta she lives a fine life far away from the football-obsessed town of her childhood. But when her beloved Grandmother needs help, Darcy takes a leave of absence and heads back to the home and past she left behind.

He knows how to play the field—and is in no rush to settle down.

Robbie Dalton knows a thing or two about painful pasts. After bouncing around in foster care and the Army for years he is finally ready to move on and make a home for himself in Falcon, Alabama as the newest high school football coach. Sparks fly when the sexy new coach and the sharp-tongued librarian meet, but neither of them is looking to make ties.

But when it comes to love, sometimes you’ve gotta throw away the rule book to cross the finish line…

Everything changes when Darcy falls in love, not only with the gruff, protective, and smoking hot man who's sharing her days and nights, but also with the complex tapestry of people who weave Falcon together. Could this be where she belongs - and who she belongs with?

Robbie’s kiss stole all logical threads of thought, hurtling her into a territory where only sensations were processed. His soft hair under her fingers, the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the rough denim abrading her inner thighs, his hands squeezing her hips. But, mostly, his lips and tongue as they worked her into an aroused frenzy.

His mouth drew away from hers, and she floated in the tumultuous aftermath. His face was cast of stone, any sort of gentleness she’d felt in his kiss not reflected in his frigid eyes or frowning mouth. He slid his hands down her legs to pry her ankles from around his hips.

He left her to teeter on the edge of the counter, legs spread wantonly. Forces of nature held true no matter the tipping of her world on its axis, and gravity pulled her to the floor, knees wobbly and hands shaking. After roving his gaze down her body and back to her face, he turned and moved toward the door.

His sudden pivot back made her inhale sharply. In two steps, he had her bracketed between his arms, both his hands on the counter. Their bodies were so close, his heat, his desire pulsed like a living thing, yet he didn’t press into her or touch her in any way.

“I want—” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said, ending on a hiss.

She wanted it too. Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man. She’d never felt this needy, this wild. Her legs rocked open, and she rose on her toes. She craved the touch of his hands. He could take her here or carry her to her room. It didn’t matter where he claimed her. It didn’t matter who saw them. They inhaled in synchronicity. She tilted her face to his . . .

“. . . my damn pudding.”

His tensed bicep brushed her sensitive breasts. He tucked the casserole dish under his arm like a football. Performing a militarily precise about-face, he stalked to the door. Avery cut off mid-growl, his head swiveling between them.

A potent combination of anger, lust, and humiliation jolted her body into action. His cap lay on the floor and she kicked it, launching it to the ceiling. Avery caught it on a jump and loped after Robbie. He stopped to retrieve it from his dog’s mouth and mashed it on his head. Avery received a stiff, but gentle pat. Man and dog disappeared around the corner of the house.

She stared out the screen door. A breeze rustled the roses climbing the trellis, the scent at odds with the bile climbing her throat. The spray and crunch of gravel under spinning wheels unstuck her. She picked up the nearest thing to her hand and hurled it at the screen. The overly ripe banana splattered on the floor, leaving a goopy, sweet-smelling mess.

Damn him to hell.

An award-winning author, Laura Trentham was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee. 

Although, she loved English and reading in high school, she was convinced an English degree equated to starvation. She chose the next most logical major—Chemical Engineering—and worked in a hard hat and steel toed boots for several years.

She writes sexy, small town contemporaries and smoking hot Regency historicals. The first two books of her Falcon Football series were named Top Picks by RT Book Reviews magazine. When not lost in a cozy Southern town or Regency England, she's shuttling kids to soccer, helping with homework, and avoiding the Mt. Everest-sized pile of laundry that is almost as large as the to-be-read pile of books on her nightstand.

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