Today we have Blind Landing by Carrie Aarons. Grab this sexy sports romance just in time for the Olympics!! About Blind Landing: Fear stops dreams in their tracks before they even have a chance. Then again, so do injuries. Natalia Grekov was born to win Olympic gold. As the USA’s top gymnast, she’s calm, confident and ready to make her country proud in just two short months. And her elite athlete lifestyle includes no time for distractions—especially men. When a disastrous fall in practice puts her dreams at risk, it seems the only person who can help her is the one person she wants nothing from. Spencer Russell is gymnastics’ bad boy. A cocky, laid-back charmer with abs of steel and a witty mouth, he waltzes around the U.S. Gymnastics Training Camp like he owns the place—even though he doesn't anymore. After an injury sidelined his career and any chance at Olympic glory, he’s now just a coach, helping other gymnasts reach their goals. Serious is not a word in Spencer’s vocabulary. But when Natalia tumbles into his life, he's suddenly sincerely interested in helping the blonde beauty in any way he can. Can they vault over the obstacles standing in their way? Or will Spencer be the distraction that causes Natalia's chance at gold to crash and burn? Buy Links: Amazon US→ http://amzn.to/2adH6DN UK→ http://amzn.to/2aLfmYd About Carrie Aarons: Author of romance novels such as Red Card and the Captive Heart Duet, Carrie Aarons writes sexy, swoony and sarcastic characters who won't get out of her head until she puts them down on a page. Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book. She loves spinning tales that include dapper men, women with attitude, and the occasional hunky athlete. When she isn't in what her husband calls a "writing coma", Carrie is freeing up her jam-packed DVR, starting her latest DIY project, or planning her next travel adventure. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, who is more than happy to watch sports while his wife plots love stories. Links: Facebook: www.facebook.com/carrieaarons
“I knew you were kinky. We could get caught, you know.” His lips move to my jaw, causing my whole stomach to tumble right down to my feet.
I hook my fingers under his waistband, playing with the deep V-lines that paint the way towards his most prized possession. “Are you scared?”
Spence leaves one brawny arm pinned beside my head, the other coming down to wrench my thigh up and around his waist. “Never. But maybe you should be.”
He flashes a devil-may-care grin at me a split-second before he hefts my entire body off the mat. My legs wrap around his solid waist as he crushes his mouth to mine, plunging his tongue in. Sparks zing down my spine and into my core, causing my clit to throb and whine for attention as it rubs against my leotard and his shorts.
“I’m going to teach you how to work the horse.” Spence whispers in my ear as he sets me down on a hard surface.
I peek down to see I’m sitting on the pommel horse. Bolted to the ground by two steel beams, the rectangular wooden block covered in leathery canvas sits underneath my body. My butt is square in the middle of the two curved handgrips, and Spence’s hands rest snuggly on the dips in my cheeks.
A grin spreads across my face as I look back up at him, the tent in his pants catching my eye. I pat the pommel horse sitting under me. “I thought you retired from spinning your hips on this thing.”
He brings his gaze down low to meet mine, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. “That doesn’t mean I don’t still know a few tricks.”
His fingers tiptoed across my leg, and my feminine instincts had me dropping my knees to either side, so spread out that they practically touched the leather of the horse.
“See, the thing you have to learn about performing on pommels is … your hands. They have to be quick and precise.” Spence inches the crotch of my leotard aside, the velvet of it brushing the inner part of my thigh and sending shivers through my pores.
As soon as the tepid gym air hits my wetness, we both gasp. Gymnasts didn’t wear panties under their leotards. You weren’t a real gymnast if you did. And I was as real as they came.
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