My
Perfect Mistake
Over the Top, #1
Over the Top, #1
by Kelly Siskind
Releasing
April 5, 2016
Forever Yours
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . My Perfect Mistake (Over the Top, #1) . . .
I laughed so loud that I got heads to turn and weird eye rolls. I was holding my side with the delight of this read. I found it funny, sexy, and felt the hostility between Kolten and Shay. The chemistry between the two was there in your face. I had great excitement in entertaining a new author. This story brought it around.Kolten and Shay both had a past that was interfering in there present. The intensity of their encounters was engrossing. Their journey to deal with their past and with each other was like a chemical reaction in some place and meltdown in others.
Siskind gave a full cast of character with depth and intense, yet satisfying interaction with both primary and secondary characters. I will be patiently waiting for the next book in this series to hit the shelves.
**This ARC was provided via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.**
Blurb
What
happens in Aspen is definitely not staying in Aspen . . .
A girls' trip to Aspen was exactly
what Shay needed to forget about her toxic ex-boyfriend. She's got her girls,
pristine slopes for skiing, and hot guys everywhere. Of course, her epic
self-rediscovery goes completely to hell when a wild (and deliciously hot)
skier knocks Shay on her ass . . . and war is declared.
Kolton doesn't know what it is about
Shay that makes him lose it. Not just his cool---although she does have an
unholy gift for that---but his restraint. When anger gives way to explosive
chemistry, they're both shaken with the intensity of it. But somewhere between
lust and hate, Kolton and Shay realize they could have something real . . . if
they don't kill each other first.
He
tosses me my anti-sexy helmet. “We should take another run before we head
down.”
I
catch it and shake my head, unsure I heard him right. “Sorry, we?
Shouldn’t you be skiing with your buddies? It’s bad enough you hijacked my
lunch and I have to sit at a table with you again tonight. Now you want to ski
together? Thanks but no thanks.”
He
lifts his arms over his head and stretches from side to side. A sliver of skin
peeks out below his jacket. “The guys called it quits early. Worried you can’t
keep up?”
As
fucking if. The dude’s obviously egging me on, but he
snaps my self-control. Everything between us is action, reaction. Spark and
flame. What’s his deal, anyway? Why sit with me and ski with me when we’re
worse than cats and dogs? If he thinks firing me up means he’s getting a replay
of last night, he’s mistaken. Still, I need to beat his ass on the slopes.
“Fine. I’ll take that run. It’s about time I put you in your place. But let’s
be clear. We can have lunch and ski together, but there will be no sex.” A teen
walking by stops midstride and doubles over in a fit of giggles.
“I
didn’t catch that.” Kolton leans forward and cups a hand around his helmeted
ear. “Do you mind speaking up?”
What
a total douche.
“Everyone
is wise until he speaks,” I mumble, recalling my granddad’s words.
Kolton
straightens, a question passing across his face. “Are you Irish? My granddad
used to say that all the time. Along with, ‘Shut your mouth and eat your
dinner.’”
I
laugh, abrupt and maniacal, the sharp sound catching me off guard. The energy
shifts between us, like the first time I understood my Spanish teacher—the foreign
becoming familiar. I frown, unsure I want Kolton to feel familiar. “Yeah, I am.
The first curse I learned was feckin’ arse,
and I’d kind of like to use it now.”
He
smiles to himself, as though we’re friends who would sit and talk and laugh
about our shared upbringing. Ruffled, I cram my helmet on, get geared up, and
try to stomp out of the lodge all look
out, buddy, but with the boots and Martian head, it’s a
fail.
Skis
on and goggles down, we race to the lift. He arrives first, making like he’s
been waiting forever with a dramatic yawn. I roll my eyes and push past him.
The lift line is empty, so it’s just him and me on the four-person chair.
“Mind
not doing that?” he says partway up as I swing my skis.
The
chair sways in response, and I rock my legs harder. “This?”
His
olive skin grays. “Yeah. That.” He leans his elbows on the safety bar and
closes his eyes.
If
he pukes, I’ll likely toss my cookies, too. When my brother got food poisoning
from China House’s all-you-can-eat buffet, it wasn’t pretty. I hadn’t eaten a
thing there, but the second he threw up, I proceeded to reenact that pie eating
scene from Stand
by Me: projectile vomit, solid stream, fire hydrant force.
I
still my skis and stop bouncing.
We
pass one supporting tower, then another, before he opens his eyes.
“You
regretting that lunch?” I ask, smirking.
He
flexes his hands, and the poles dangling from his wrists knock around. “No. I’m
regretting getting on this chair with you.”
Such
a charmer.
Author Info
A
small-town girl at heart, Kelly Siskind moved from the city to
open a cheese shop with her husband in Northern Ontario. When she’s not
neck deep in cheese or out hiking, you can find her, notepad in hand,
scribbling down one of the many plot bunnies bouncing around in her head.
She laughs at her own jokes and has been known to
eat her feelings—Gummy Bears heal all. She’s also an incurable romantic,
devouring romance novels into the wee hours of the morning.
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