•Blurb•
Traditions are important. Especially in the South.
College football. Rivalries. Tailgating. Halftime shows.
Some things just don’t change.
Until Reese Holland shows up with her long legs and no-bull***t attitude to audition for the prestigious all-male Rodner University snare line.
It doesn’t matter how much hazing she has to endure from Laird Bronson, with his narrowed green
eyes and arrogant smirk. She wants that damn spot, and she’s more than good enough to earn it.
She expects there to be tension. Even friction.
But not sparks hot enough to burn the entire campus down.
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•Review•
The band geek in me seriously squeed in excitement when I read the blurb for Drumline. Oh the memories this book brought back of band camp, the hot drumline guys, and steamy summer nights. The drumline boys were the cream of the crop at our school, the ones all the band girls wanted to date. So I knew I had to read this one. Plus, it’s not very often you read marching band storylines past YA, so I was excited to see where Stacy Kestwick would take the story.
Reese Holland is a fighter, a survivor, feisty and sassy. I loved how she wasn’t afraid to dive into a man’s world. And she didn’t back down when some of them got in her face about it. Laird Bronson is talented, smart, and definitely an alpha. He’s had some hard knocks but he keeps on going no matter what life throws at him. The connection between these two is immediate, red hot, and full of tension. They were extremely well-developed and complex. The secondary characters were also well-written. There were ones you love to hate and those you just love. I really hope that Smith gets a happily ever after.
I loved this book. There’s drama but it flows well with the storyline. Kestwick really draws out the emotions in you. It’s steamy, heart-tugging, heartbreaking, and more. There were times I had to put my Kindle down to process what was going on, others where I wanted to throw it across the room, and more where I just wanted to cheer. Plus, it really describes just how hard marching band works, how the gossip runs rampant, and the politics of it. Kestwick was either a band girl herself or definitely did her research.
All band geeks will get a kick out of this one. And if you weren’t a band geek, take a walk on the wild side and read about it.
•Excerpt•
He devoured me.
Being eaten alive had never felt so good.
His lips. His hands. His heat. My entire being was overwhelmed by him finally, finally touching me.
The kiss started hard, desperate, the inevitable conclusion to the tension that had been building between us for two weeks. With my eyes closed and my breasts flattened against the wall of his chest, I gave into it, surrendered to the moment. My mouth clung to his as he tilted my head to the side, changing the angle to deepen the contact.
His hands moved over me restlessly, hungrily, skimming down my back on the way to my ass, then back up my sides to frame my face, his fingers leaving a trail of heat behind on every inch of skin he claimed for himself. I pulled at his shirt while he pushed me against the solidness of the door. My heart tripped over itself in its race to keep up. Muffled sounds came from both of us, vibrating in our throats but not escaping our lips because we hadn’t even parted for a breath yet.
Who needed fucking air when Laird Bronson was kissing them? Not me.
His lips were somehow firm and soft at the same time as he slanted them over me again and again. It was like being called up to the major league from the minors. Nothing in my past compared. I shivered from the intensity of it, from the innate authority of his mouth as he consumed me. Like I was made to bend to him, as inevitable as the moon ceding to the sun.
I lifted on my tiptoes to get closer, one of my hands snaking up to tangle in his dark hair. The strands were barely long enough at the top to grip, and when I gave them a tug, he rolled his hips against me, showing me just how much he liked it. I moaned and felt an answering wetness gather at the juncture of my thighs.
Dear sweet rosy-cheeked baby Jesus and all the saints in heaven.
His mouth needed to come with a warning label. Danger. Highly flammable.
But it was too late. I’d had a taste and I liked the burn.
Read Chapter One here!
•About the Author•
USA TODAY Bestseller Stacy Kestwick is a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. Her perfect day would include puppies, carbohydrates, and lounging on a hammock with a good book. No adulting, cleaning, or bacon allowed.
•Connect with Stacy•
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