They're A Match by Chloe Liese
Series: Tough Love #3
Publication date: August 12th, 2019
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
One blazing relational bond formed by two fiery lovers. And a new element just joined the formula.
Chemistry calls it covalence. Shakespeare named it the "marriage of true minds." Historically speaking, Nairne never liked the impractical notion of marriage, and Zed never thought he'd live to see the day when tying the knot was even an option. After a decade of entanglement in the mafia, Zed's now free to play the game he loves and love the woman who owns his heart.
Problem is, the spitfire's been a loner her whole life. Independent, self-reliant, and driven. And she wants nothing to do with marriage, since statistically it fails more than it succeeds, which to her scientific mind is the universally acknowledged definition of an experimental bust. But the elemental pull toward matrimony between the sexy scientist and her dark and handsome soccer star is stronger than Nairne anticipates. Can she risk her heart for her perfect match, even if it's a gamble rather than a sure bet?
In the game of life,
you win some, you lose some.
"And They Lived Happily Ever After" is theirs for the taking,
but for that pesky little word that so often gets overlooked...
"Lived."
---
Book Three in the Tough Love Series--a suspenseful romance, full of sexy Italians, feisty heroines, a house full of friends and family, and an ending that closes the chapter on these lovers, and paves the way for new ones.
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SALE: From August 5-12, the kindle books will be a total of $3 for 3 books (Book 1, free; Book 2, $0.99; Book 3, $1.99). Here is the link to purchase all three: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07RSD4Q1H?ref_=series_rw_dp_labf
Zed stood at the counter, chopping onions and dabbing his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
"Jesus Christ," he said. "Where'd you get these? They're killing me."
I sat at the island across from him, segmenting oranges. "The market down the street. They seemed fresh."
"No shit." He laughed.
He finished the onion and slid it into the cast iron pan where it sizzled and popped in olive oil. He set the cutting board and knife in the sink, and I watched his muscles flex under his grey thermal. It fit him unfairly well, and it was all his fault, since the man was particular about his wardrobe. I'd never bought him a stitch of clothing. He blamed it on being Italian.
"You ever see an Italian man who looks like a slob? That's right, because they don't exist."
I smirked to myself and felt a dull ache grow between my thighs as his round shoulders and arse flexed when he leaned for the soap.
"Like what you see, MacGregor?"
I scowled at his back. "You always know when I'm undressing you with my eyes."
He peered over his shoulder and hit me with those pale tiger irises, along with a knowing smirk. "I don't know it. I feel it."
When he finished at the sink, he came over to me. His hands slipped around my waist until he got as close as my growing belly allowed.
"You know what I'm thinking about?" he asked.
I was a little preoccupied with how his hands had drifted down to fondle my arse. "Hmm?"
"Where were we this time last year?"
His childhood home in Beacon Hill. He'd left the dinner table abruptly after his father had heckled him about the life Zed had become entangled in, a world he'd felt no choice but to both enter and try to destroy. Problem was, it had been destroying Zed, too.
"I remember," I whispered. "How you looked so forlorn. I watched the snow and felt like you were as desolate inside as the storm around us."
He nodded. Kissing me tenderly. "I was." His hands cupped my cheeks as he smiled. "But then a spitfire came along and blew it all to hell. Brought heat and light and demand. Made me look at my life and want so much more from it."
Tears burned my eyes. Sometimes I forgot to look back and feel the immense gratitude I should for how far we'd come, what we'd both survived. The life we'd fought to share.
"Thank you, innamorata, for this life. For giving me your love. For giving me a baby. It's all because of you."
I clutched his shirt and pulled him to me, kissing him hard. "I didn't do it alone. It's always been the two of us, together."
"Jesus Christ," he said. "Where'd you get these? They're killing me."
I sat at the island across from him, segmenting oranges. "The market down the street. They seemed fresh."
"No shit." He laughed.
He finished the onion and slid it into the cast iron pan where it sizzled and popped in olive oil. He set the cutting board and knife in the sink, and I watched his muscles flex under his grey thermal. It fit him unfairly well, and it was all his fault, since the man was particular about his wardrobe. I'd never bought him a stitch of clothing. He blamed it on being Italian.
"You ever see an Italian man who looks like a slob? That's right, because they don't exist."
I smirked to myself and felt a dull ache grow between my thighs as his round shoulders and arse flexed when he leaned for the soap.
"Like what you see, MacGregor?"
I scowled at his back. "You always know when I'm undressing you with my eyes."
He peered over his shoulder and hit me with those pale tiger irises, along with a knowing smirk. "I don't know it. I feel it."
When he finished at the sink, he came over to me. His hands slipped around my waist until he got as close as my growing belly allowed.
"You know what I'm thinking about?" he asked.
I was a little preoccupied with how his hands had drifted down to fondle my arse. "Hmm?"
"Where were we this time last year?"
His childhood home in Beacon Hill. He'd left the dinner table abruptly after his father had heckled him about the life Zed had become entangled in, a world he'd felt no choice but to both enter and try to destroy. Problem was, it had been destroying Zed, too.
"I remember," I whispered. "How you looked so forlorn. I watched the snow and felt like you were as desolate inside as the storm around us."
He nodded. Kissing me tenderly. "I was." His hands cupped my cheeks as he smiled. "But then a spitfire came along and blew it all to hell. Brought heat and light and demand. Made me look at my life and want so much more from it."
Tears burned my eyes. Sometimes I forgot to look back and feel the immense gratitude I should for how far we'd come, what we'd both survived. The life we'd fought to share.
"Thank you, innamorata, for this life. For giving me your love. For giving me a baby. It's all because of you."
I clutched his shirt and pulled him to me, kissing him hard. "I didn't do it alone. It's always been the two of us, together."
About the Author:
Chloe's always been a sucker for a suspenseful steamy romance, ever since she managed to find the one saucy mystery series hiding in her high school's prim little library. Nothing drives her crazier than a story that cranks up the heat, then closes the door on the reader's face, so don't read her books if you don't want to know what actually happens when the lights fade to black...
When she's not writing, Chloe's busy reading books of all genres, rereading Harry Potter (which she can't help but make her characters similarly obsessed over), and playing catch-up with her badass little girls. She's also been known to scramble around the pitch for a pick-up soccer match and run along the river while dreaming up her next book.
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