Restoring Our Chance by Alexa Michaels
Publication date: May 29th, 2020
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
What if your next patient is an old love, who you haven't heard from in ten years?
Any other woman would have turned and run the other way the moment they saw Logan Peterson--after what he did, he would deserve it.
The thing is, I can't walk away from him. And now we have to stay professional, because I am the only one who can help him. But there's this undeniable pull between us--it's what brought us together ten years ago and it could destroy us now.
Do I risk a second chance with him? Would it even work, especially since I kept a secret from him for ten years?
And they say love is supposed to be easy, right?
Restoring Our Chance is a second-chance romance featuring a gentlemanly alpha male and a bold, fiery heroine. It is currently a standalone in a soon to be larger series. No cheating. No cliffhangers. But will there be a happily ever after? Well, read it today and see if love can be restored!
***Author's note: this book is intended for a mature audience in terms of content, language, and passionate happily ever afters!
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Excerpt
Fuck it, I had thought. I have to try to give him a smooth transition. I would not be a good doctor if I did not try everything in my power to help him.
Agreeing to take him on as my client meant that things were about to get crazy. I needed to stay professional around the man, even though my body wanted to get into bed with him. Thankfully my mind said there was no way I was going to sleep with him. And since my heart was scarred, it sided with my mind, and together they overruled my body.
I had to save him from what was sure to be a long haul; maybe I needed to save him from himself. If he was mentally unstable, I would have no choice but to have him locked up. Could I send the man I used to adore to that fate? Because if I could not save him, that was the outcome he was facing. However, if I fought for him, I could get burned. Whatever way I went. I was playing with fire.
I needed to talk to him in private and tell him how serious this was. Of course, he might already know that if he was using our childhood codes. I hid my frustration, because for now, I could only continue as best I could until I could have a private consult.
And now he had the gall to sit there, admitting he had brought alcohol on the premises--in my hospital. I was pissed. Already he was not playing by the rules.
"Give me the flask." My voice was low. There was a challenge in his eyes, but I met it. "Screw you, Soldier."
"You used to like that," he whispered, dropping the metal container on the tabletop. He put his hands in his pockets. His slouch was forced, not a natural position for such a formidable male. I barely heard him add, "I can oblige."
Ignoring his remarks, I gritted my teeth and muscled through. We managed to finish the rest of the assessment. Then I told him, "You have until Monday to decide if this is what you want. I will write my recommendation for treatment. You can come here Monday and stay in the hospital, or I can write a nice memorandum and your superiors can find you a different facility. I will submit the recommendation tonight, and the military panel and lawyers will see it first thing in the morning."
Then I stood and turned to leave knowing that writing that recommendation would mean I would be late to dance class. It was not something I was happy about. If it was anyone else, I would not have bothered making sure the damn recommendation was sent posthaste.
But this was Logan--my Southern soldier boy. He had been my brother's best friend since before I was born. He had been my idol, then my lover. And he was the father of my little girl, currently at dance class. If she was ever--and in my mind I wanted it to be a never--going to meet her daddy, I needed to send the damn recommendation. Furthermore, even though Logan had broken my heart and pulverized it into a pile of dust, it was my duty to save him, because no one else would be as invested as I was.
While picking up my materials, I punched a few more notes into the tablet.
Fuck you, Logan, I hissed inside my head. After ten years, how dare he come barreling back into my life? He was already upsetting the gentle balance I had created, as if there weren't enough things on my plate already.
Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist. It threw me off balance and I would have stumbled if his other hand had not grabbed my waist. Hidden from the case manager, those long fingers brushed the front of my stomach. I stopped breathing. My skin tingled, sending longing to several key places. It had been a very long time since a man's touch had electrified me like this--ten years to be exact.
"Sammy-Girl, thank you." He quickly righted me and held out a hand to shake. Then his lips whispered the words, "Why are you helping me?"
There it was: uncertainty. This lethal giant, trained to do what other men could not stomach, was letting his guard down and showing his weakness. That raw pain was palpable. He was scared that this chance I was offering him was too good to be true.
Agreeing to take him on as my client meant that things were about to get crazy. I needed to stay professional around the man, even though my body wanted to get into bed with him. Thankfully my mind said there was no way I was going to sleep with him. And since my heart was scarred, it sided with my mind, and together they overruled my body.
I had to save him from what was sure to be a long haul; maybe I needed to save him from himself. If he was mentally unstable, I would have no choice but to have him locked up. Could I send the man I used to adore to that fate? Because if I could not save him, that was the outcome he was facing. However, if I fought for him, I could get burned. Whatever way I went. I was playing with fire.
I needed to talk to him in private and tell him how serious this was. Of course, he might already know that if he was using our childhood codes. I hid my frustration, because for now, I could only continue as best I could until I could have a private consult.
And now he had the gall to sit there, admitting he had brought alcohol on the premises--in my hospital. I was pissed. Already he was not playing by the rules.
"Give me the flask." My voice was low. There was a challenge in his eyes, but I met it. "Screw you, Soldier."
"You used to like that," he whispered, dropping the metal container on the tabletop. He put his hands in his pockets. His slouch was forced, not a natural position for such a formidable male. I barely heard him add, "I can oblige."
Ignoring his remarks, I gritted my teeth and muscled through. We managed to finish the rest of the assessment. Then I told him, "You have until Monday to decide if this is what you want. I will write my recommendation for treatment. You can come here Monday and stay in the hospital, or I can write a nice memorandum and your superiors can find you a different facility. I will submit the recommendation tonight, and the military panel and lawyers will see it first thing in the morning."
Then I stood and turned to leave knowing that writing that recommendation would mean I would be late to dance class. It was not something I was happy about. If it was anyone else, I would not have bothered making sure the damn recommendation was sent posthaste.
But this was Logan--my Southern soldier boy. He had been my brother's best friend since before I was born. He had been my idol, then my lover. And he was the father of my little girl, currently at dance class. If she was ever--and in my mind I wanted it to be a never--going to meet her daddy, I needed to send the damn recommendation. Furthermore, even though Logan had broken my heart and pulverized it into a pile of dust, it was my duty to save him, because no one else would be as invested as I was.
While picking up my materials, I punched a few more notes into the tablet.
Fuck you, Logan, I hissed inside my head. After ten years, how dare he come barreling back into my life? He was already upsetting the gentle balance I had created, as if there weren't enough things on my plate already.
Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist. It threw me off balance and I would have stumbled if his other hand had not grabbed my waist. Hidden from the case manager, those long fingers brushed the front of my stomach. I stopped breathing. My skin tingled, sending longing to several key places. It had been a very long time since a man's touch had electrified me like this--ten years to be exact.
"Sammy-Girl, thank you." He quickly righted me and held out a hand to shake. Then his lips whispered the words, "Why are you helping me?"
There it was: uncertainty. This lethal giant, trained to do what other men could not stomach, was letting his guard down and showing his weakness. That raw pain was palpable. He was scared that this chance I was offering him was too good to be true.
About the Author:
When Alexa isn't writing, she can be found with a book in her lap and a mug of coffee of glass of red wine within reach.
A native of the North Woods, Alexa is an avid lake-jumper, beach lounger, and sunshine lover.
Alexa is living a happily ever after with her own steamy hero. Together they have two fur-babies and would love a few more!
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