“You seriously didn’t have to hire movers,” Mollie said for the hundredth time as she watched two burly dudes easily maneuver yet another stack of boxes to Jackson’s guest room.
Jackson pointed at a barstool. “Sit. Relax. Want a beer?”
“No, I still need to unpack,” she muttered, reluctantly plopping onto the stool.
“Have a beer, Molls. Unpacking your nightstand contents isn’t like operating heavy machinery,” he said, going to the fridge and pulling out two beers.
“Clearly you don’t know what’s in my nightstand.”
Jackson lifted his eyebrows. “Exactly how big is your vibrator?”
“I meant I have like a zillion books.”
“Which are not breakable,” he said, handing her a beer. “And is that a no on the vibrator?”
She gave him a look as she took the bottle from his hand. “I just want to state for the record that I have moved several times, on my own, without the help of movers, and I could have done it again.”
“Moving yourself is for college kids. You’re an adult. Hire movers.”
“No, moving yourself is for people without extra income,” she said. “Snob.”
“So what was the plan?” he asked, tipping the bottle to his lips. “You were just going to maneuver all those big-ass boxes around with those skinny sticks you call arms?”
“Don’t be silly. I was going to hire some big beefy dudes from campus to help me. Perk of working at a university.”
Jackson was about to set his bottle on the counter but his hand froze, just for a second, and Mollie felt a sting of regret as she realized she’d inadvertently hit a nerve. Not so long ago, Jackson Burke had been absolutely the type of muscled guy friend who’d’ve been really helpful to have around on moving day. Her eyes flitted to his shoulder. Now he was the guy who wouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting for a long time. Maybe ever.
She looked away, her brain scrambling to come up with a quick subject change.
Only maybe that wasn’t what he needed—for people to dance around his injury like it was the elephant in the room. Physically, he was on the road to recovery. He needed to get there mentally as well.
“You said the other night that it didn’t hurt,” she said. “Was that a big macho man moment?”
He stared at the counter. “I’ve told you. It’s fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Be a little more vague and manly.”
“Well, what do you want me to say, Molls?” he ground out. “That the pain wakes me up at night? That any motion more vigorous than brushing my teeth hurts like hell?”
“Are you going to physical therapy?” she asked, purposely ignoring the wounded-bear routine. That might scare off other people, but she was made of stronger stuff. Knew him better.
He looked away.
He shrugged. “What does it even matter? All the PT in the world isn’t going to help me play football again.”
“Well, gosh,” she said dramatically, “you may as well be dead.”
Jackson was in the process of taking a sip of beer and choked. “Jesus. You are such a smart-ass.”
“I’m just saying, you have a lot going for you,” she said, gentling her tone. “You don’t need a football in your hand or to help a girl move to be an amazing guy.”
“Yeah?” he said as he leaned on his forearms across the counter. “Want to tell me more about how I’m an amazing guy?”
If I did, I might never stop.
LOVED, LOVED this book and Lauren Layne!!! What happens when a sexy ex-football player offers his younger ex-sister-in-law a place to stay in his luxurious condo? Only one of the sexiest, sweetest romances I’ve ever read!
In this latest book in the Oxford series, Jackson Burke is trying to adjust to his new life in New York working for Oxford magazine after overcoming an accident that took his football career away and moving on from a horrible breakup from his divorce from ex-wife, Maddie. However, it doesn’t feel like home to him. He misses Texas and being on a football field. He finally relents and agrees to meet his ex-wife’s younger sister, Mollie, for dinner one night. He was always close to her, but he’s stunned at how much she’s changed. He certainly doesn’t see her as a girl anymore; she’s all woman. Despite his better judgment, he offers her a room in his big condo. As the two spend more time together, the two can’t fight their feelings, especially since Mollie has always been in love with Jackson, but never said a word because of her loyalty to her sister. Will they finally cross that boundary, and what happens when the past threatens to tear them apart?
As with all of Layne’s books, she pulled me into the story through her characters. I loved them all, and it’s no different with Jackson and Mollie. I loved Jackson! How could I not? He’s sexy and sweet, not to mention all that he’s had to overcome. But, he really ticked me off at times. He had a great job, a woman who adored him, and people who really wanted to be his friends, but he always kept them at a distance. I understood he had trouble trusting others, but man I wanted to shake him and wake him up. Mollie was a sweetheart. There wasn’t anything I didn’t love about her. Just being around her helped Jackson open up more to his co-workers at Oxford who really wanted to be his friend. However, her sister, Maddie, OMG what a bi$$h! You will see what I mean when you read the book! UGH!!! As always, I got to catch up with the rest of the guys at Oxford and their ladies which I love!
I Wish You Were Mine was a romance with substance. It’s about overcoming your past pains and accepting the new path that life has mapped out for you! It’s filled with sexual chemistry, and Layne is a master at using that chemistry to keep you wanting more. I only discovered Lane last year, but she has become one of my favorite writers. I’m always waiting impatiently for any book she is writing!
author of contemporary romance.
and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved from Seattle to New York
City, where Lauren decided to pursue a full-time writing career. It took six
months to get her first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband
that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren’s gone on to publish
thirteen books, including the bestselling Stiletto series, with several more on
the way in 2015.
and spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you’ll find her at happy hour,
running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to straighten her naturally curly