I want you . . . even when I hate you.
I Hate You, an all-new enemies to
lovers sports romance from Wall Street
Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills, is available now!
-->
Book info:
Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills
Series: The Hook Up #3
Genre: NA sport romance
Release Date: August 20th, 2019
Source: E-galley from Social Butterfly PR which did not influence my opinion
My rating: 4.5 stars
Synopsis:
There’s a fine line between I hate you and I want you.
Once you cross it, there’s no going back.
Blaze Townsend: I hate you.
Charisma Rossi: I hate you more.
She’s been expecting this ever since their latest showdown. She had good reason.
Hottest guy she’s ever seen.
Former fling.
Dumped her in front of all her friends.
At her own party.
So no, she’s not about to forgive and forget just because he sits next to her in class. He thinks all he has to do is turn on those baby blues, and she’ll melt right back into his arms. Please.She’d be crazy to let this cocky player affect her again. (Tell that to her body.)
Charisma Rossi.
Nerd girl with a dash of bad.
The one who got under his skin.
The one he cut loose.
Blaze knows she’s the riskiest prospect at Waylon University, but none of the interchangeable girls he hooks up with have ever made him feel the way she did. There’s absolutely no way he can have the girl and the game.
So why can’t he stop trying to win her back?
Can this wide receiver score the girl or will he make the biggest fumble of his life?
Download your copy today or read FREE
in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KF0tWN
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/IHateYou
Add
to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2ZhXn09
-->
My Review:
Okay, I really do love these stories. So much about this one was great. I totally connected with Charisma, besides loving her name. But both of them, Blaze and Charisma frustrated me in their continuing to not give the other a chance, especially Blaze with his stupid reasoning. That's what kept me from a 5 star on this one. This story had the total steaminess that I love in a good story by this author. I loved getting glimpses into our characters from the earlier standalone stories in the series. And of course I love the parrot. What's fun in these stories is all the side characters and wondering if they might get their own stories in the future. Blaze was hot, hence his name fit him perfectly. And what happened at the end with him trying to impress the scouts to get a professional football career or at least in the draft, well it wasn't exactly what I was expecting, but in a way I'm glad there wasn't extra drama added that way. A fun, sexy story. Fingers crossed there will be more in this series!
Also, I was at the exciting Book Bonanza this past weekend, and this author was one of my authors I HAD to meet. So here is my picture with her!
Excerpt:
“Need some help?”
I’m on my tiptoes when the question
comes, trying to reach a book on the top shelf in the bookstore at the student
center.
My heart does a nosedive off a cliff
as that familiar gruff voice washes over me, his accent a smooth drawl that’s
reminiscent of hot summer nights and slow kisses—kisses we never had…well,
except for that one time freshman year.
I ignore him and try to grab the
book.
“You’re too short. Let me,” Blaze
says, this time closer, his voice soft.
I ease back on my feet and whip
around, internally wishing I’d worn something more I hate you and don’t you wish you still had me, but sadly, I’m not
in my kickass shoes and itchy dress. Today it’s flat-soled red Converse, black
joggers, and a Yankees sweatshirt. I blow at a piece of hair in my face. Shit.
Of course, he looks magnificent in a
tight long-sleeved black shirt that clings to his broad chest and tapered jeans
molded to those leg muscles. His face is unshaven, the darkness on his jawline
adding a broody look.
Curse him and his hotness.
I stare at him a little too long,
until I snap out of it.
“I don’t need help,” My voice is
strangled as I move to brush past him—forget the textbooks—but he reaches out
and takes my elbow.
“Charisma—”
His fingers are a hot brand on my
skin—it’s the first time we’ve touched in three months—and I pull away. A
tremble starts in my legs. How dare he?It
was one thing to see him in a social setting and pretend I was fine, but when
we’re face to face without people watching… “Don’t put your hands on me. I’m
not your hookup anymore, football player.”
His face reddens, and he drops his
arms. “I didn’t mean—” he stops, not finishing as he studies my face.
I wonder what he sees. You know what he sees, Charisma—someone who
wasn’t up to his usual standards.
Everything I didn’t say last night
rushes out. “Didn’t mean to what? Dump me in the middle of my own sorority’s
party in front of all my friends and half of campus? And you know, that’s
totally fine. We both knew I wasn’t enough to keep your attention.”
His jaw clenches and he frowns, his
brow furrowing. “I didn’t plan for things to happen that way.”
“How did you want to break up with
me? Over candlelight? A text would have worked just fine,” I bite out.
The silence builds between us, and he
watches me intently, as if trying to figure me out. He starts at my hair and
works his way down to my feet, then comes back to my face. Just when I think I
might combust from the intensity of his eyes, he looks away.
“What?” I cock my hip. “You look like
you want to say something.”
He taps his hand against his leg.
Ice-blue eyes, ones I used to stare into and get butterflies from, glitter down
at me. “You just can’t handle that ended
things, sweetheart.”
“Not your sweetheart.”
“Never were.”
Shit…shit…my heart feels like an anvil just landed on it, heavy and
hard, and I can’t breathe for a second at his words, part of me pissed, the
other part devastated. I wanted to be his sweetheart, I did, but he…
You’re not my type.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I say
quietly, my anger folding away piece by piece and slipping into that horrible
self-pity I despise.
He closes his eyes and scrubs his
face with those talented hands, strong and big and capable, skillful with a
football.
He steps in front of me, much like he
did last night, and I tilt my head back to take him in. At my height of five
feet, three inches, it’s hard to glare at a guy who towers over you and not
look ridiculous, but I manage—until his eyes flicker with lingering emotion.
I dart my eyes around the store,
searching for a way out, but I’m stuck between him and a bookshelf. “You’re
blocking my path.” I focus on his legs. No sexiness there—well, except for the
tight muscles under that denim.
“This is what I know,” he says in a
low voice, ignoring my statement. “You told me
we were just messing around. You
set all the rules. Isn’t that how you operate? So why does me ending things
with you even matter?”
“You never asked for more. You could
have.” The revealing words fall around us, tinged with hurt, and I want to pull
them back.
The silence between us crackles, yet
I’m aware of other people around us. There are a few girls on another aisle,
and I glance over as one of them pulls out her phone. No doubt she’s taking a
picture of him. Part of me retreats, anxious she’ll get me in that photo—a girl
who clearly doesn’t belong. He doesn’t notice. Everyone knows who he is, and
they’re probably wondering why he’s talking to me.
“No, I didn’t,” he finally says, the
words taut as if pulled from him unwillingly. He taps his leg, his tell that
he’s anxious or angry. We weren’t together long, but every moment we spent
together, I studied him like a wine connoisseur given a glass of rare cabernet.
I know what makes him laugh, usually random things that make no sense. I know
that groan he makes deep in this throat when he slides inside me, like he’s
home. I know the feel of his hand when he cups my face and stares at me, a
hesitant expression on his face—
“You can’t even look at me anymore. I
wonder why,” he says, his voice a challenge.
Steeling myself, I face those baby
blues. “You know why. I wish we’d never met up last fall. I wish you’d never
flirted with me. I wish I’d never fucked you that first time in the library—”
“Same page. Same fucking page,
Charisma.” And then he’s walking away, broad shoulders swaying as he stalks
down the aisle…
About Ilsa Madden-Mills
Wall Street Journal, New York Times,
and USA Today best-selling author
Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic
comedies.
Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top
10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet
You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last
Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.
A former high school English teacher, she adores all
things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.
She's addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets,
and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk
her online.
.
Connect with Ilsa
Join
her Unicorn Girls Group on FB, the best way to keep up: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ilsasunicorngirls/
Sign
up for phone alert for book releases (max of 4) Text ROMANCE to 21000
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2nY2pxT
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ilsamaddenmills/
Stay
up to day with Ilsa by joining her mailing list: http://www.ilsamaddenmills.com/contact
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2EESfM9
Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2GaR6cn
Book+Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/ilsamaddenmills
-->
