Yoga in the City, #1
Leigh LaValle
Publication date: May 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A sassy new romance from a USA Today Bestselling Author…
After moving cross-country yet again, Hannah Roberts wants to put down roots in Colorado. She’s sunk her life savings into a share of Bloom Yoga Studio, but the studio is losing money, and fast. The building is undergoing a messy, noisy renovation–and the hot carpenter in charge is distracting her yoga students in more ways than one. If Hannah can’t talk the hard-bodied builder out of his power tools, she might as well kiss her dreams goodbye.
When Jake Marshall returned from Afghanistan, he brought back an injured knee and a lot of bad memories. He just wants to finish this renovation, rehab his knee, and head for Alaska to leave it all behind. A sexy yoga teacher doesn’t fit into his plans. But when Hannah offers him private sessions in exchange for quiet hours—he’s all in. He doesn’t expect that while she’s healing his knee, Hannah will poke at all his hidden wounds…and come dangerously close to breaking open his heart.
Excerpt:
I got on my hands and knees. My palms were sweaty against the mat, and I had to rub them on my shorts first. Hannah was right. I should have hired a different teacher. A male teacher. But no way was I stopping now. I just wanted more. And more. And more.
We did an up-and-down thing called Cat and Cow and a twist that looked easy when Hannah did it, but didn’t work with my body.
Then we came to standing. Thank God. I needed her off her knees with her butt up in the air.
We flowed through some Sun Salutations. Or Hannah flowed, and I clunked along like a broken-down truck with a flat tire and busted hood.
When we got to the standing poses, she put her hands on me. All over me. My knees, my thighs, my shoulders, my feet, my wrists, my chin, my ribs, my belly. She adjusted my postures and murmured cues and was all up in my space. But I didn’t mind. We moved through pose after pose, and my legs shook, and she got closer and closer.
At one point, she brushed her breasts against my back. She was trying to help me align my legs, and I guess she just got too close, because there it was.
Soft breasts. Hard nipples.
Hell.
We both froze. The air charged around us like a storm brewing. Like clouds churning and sparking.
“Oops,” she breathed. But she bit back a grin.
“You aren’t playing fair,” I groaned.
She lifted her shoulders in a sexy, playful shrug and I wondered what had gotten in to her. Whatever it was, I liked it.
We wound down to that lying position that felt like heaven. Hannah softly arranged my arms and legs, did something with my neck that felt awesome, rubbed the ligaments of my knee and generally fussed over me. I loved every minute of it. Then she lay down beside me.
My body was battered and bruised and I was sweaty, but I was finally relaxed. All the way relaxed, deep in my bones. And I had the sense, just the smallest sense, of what it would be like to put down the weight I was carrying.
To breathe again.
Hannah led me back up to sitting, and we did a little bow with our hands in prayer position, and I didn’t even feel funny. I just felt good. Happy.
It wasn’t a lie, the yoga rush. There was something about it—I’d never have claimed to know what it was—but it was heady stuff. Like a smooth shot of whisky after a long, cold day.
Hannah watched me quietly, and I turned my head toward her.
“Thank you,” I said. And I meant it. This was the most relief my knee had felt in months, maybe years. And my chest felt different too.
Her lips tilted up at the corners and her eyes were bright.
It was one of those good moments. One of the ones you fold up and keep safe for later. The sunrise. And the happiness. And Hannah.
I drank it in.
She leaned forward and ran her fingers over my cheek, just below the bruise. “Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“You always come back from the mountains like this?” She motioned toward my legs. I was so used to cuts and bruises on my shins, I barely noticed them. But I had taken a beating over the weekend as well.
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“What are you doing out there? Trying to kill yourself?” Her tone was teasing, and I didn’t think she had any idea how close she came to the mark.
I shook my head. “Just trying to stay alive.”
Author Bio:
Leigh LaValle is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and historical romance. She lives in Montana with her family. When she is not chasing kids, bemoaning the laundry, or carving out time to do yoga, she is sneaking away to write. She would rather read than sleep, and cannot imagine a better job than writing romance. She is also a certified yoga teacher, but is not nearly as flexible as she once was.
Awards and Nominations
RT Book Reviews 4 stars…..TOP PICK Night Owl Reviews….Nominated BEST HISTORICAL The Romance Reviews….Nominated for Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award…Nominated Best Historical Romancing Rakes
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter
Leigh LaValle
Publication date: May 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A sassy new romance from a USA Today Bestselling Author…
After moving cross-country yet again, Hannah Roberts wants to put down roots in Colorado. She’s sunk her life savings into a share of Bloom Yoga Studio, but the studio is losing money, and fast. The building is undergoing a messy, noisy renovation–and the hot carpenter in charge is distracting her yoga students in more ways than one. If Hannah can’t talk the hard-bodied builder out of his power tools, she might as well kiss her dreams goodbye.
When Jake Marshall returned from Afghanistan, he brought back an injured knee and a lot of bad memories. He just wants to finish this renovation, rehab his knee, and head for Alaska to leave it all behind. A sexy yoga teacher doesn’t fit into his plans. But when Hannah offers him private sessions in exchange for quiet hours—he’s all in. He doesn’t expect that while she’s healing his knee, Hannah will poke at all his hidden wounds…and come dangerously close to breaking open his heart.
I got on my hands and knees. My palms were sweaty against the mat, and I had to rub them on my shorts first. Hannah was right. I should have hired a different teacher. A male teacher. But no way was I stopping now. I just wanted more. And more. And more.
We did an up-and-down thing called Cat and Cow and a twist that looked easy when Hannah did it, but didn’t work with my body.
Then we came to standing. Thank God. I needed her off her knees with her butt up in the air.
We flowed through some Sun Salutations. Or Hannah flowed, and I clunked along like a broken-down truck with a flat tire and busted hood.
When we got to the standing poses, she put her hands on me. All over me. My knees, my thighs, my shoulders, my feet, my wrists, my chin, my ribs, my belly. She adjusted my postures and murmured cues and was all up in my space. But I didn’t mind. We moved through pose after pose, and my legs shook, and she got closer and closer.
At one point, she brushed her breasts against my back. She was trying to help me align my legs, and I guess she just got too close, because there it was.
Soft breasts. Hard nipples.
Hell.
We both froze. The air charged around us like a storm brewing. Like clouds churning and sparking.
“Oops,” she breathed. But she bit back a grin.
“You aren’t playing fair,” I groaned.
She lifted her shoulders in a sexy, playful shrug and I wondered what had gotten in to her. Whatever it was, I liked it.
We wound down to that lying position that felt like heaven. Hannah softly arranged my arms and legs, did something with my neck that felt awesome, rubbed the ligaments of my knee and generally fussed over me. I loved every minute of it. Then she lay down beside me.
My body was battered and bruised and I was sweaty, but I was finally relaxed. All the way relaxed, deep in my bones. And I had the sense, just the smallest sense, of what it would be like to put down the weight I was carrying.
To breathe again.
Hannah led me back up to sitting, and we did a little bow with our hands in prayer position, and I didn’t even feel funny. I just felt good. Happy.
It wasn’t a lie, the yoga rush. There was something about it—I’d never have claimed to know what it was—but it was heady stuff. Like a smooth shot of whisky after a long, cold day.
Hannah watched me quietly, and I turned my head toward her.
“Thank you,” I said. And I meant it. This was the most relief my knee had felt in months, maybe years. And my chest felt different too.
Her lips tilted up at the corners and her eyes were bright.
It was one of those good moments. One of the ones you fold up and keep safe for later. The sunrise. And the happiness. And Hannah.
I drank it in.
She leaned forward and ran her fingers over my cheek, just below the bruise. “Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“You always come back from the mountains like this?” She motioned toward my legs. I was so used to cuts and bruises on my shins, I barely noticed them. But I had taken a beating over the weekend as well.
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“What are you doing out there? Trying to kill yourself?” Her tone was teasing, and I didn’t think she had any idea how close she came to the mark.
I shook my head. “Just trying to stay alive.”
Leigh LaValle is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and historical romance. She lives in Montana with her family. When she is not chasing kids, bemoaning the laundry, or carving out time to do yoga, she is sneaking away to write. She would rather read than sleep, and cannot imagine a better job than writing romance. She is also a certified yoga teacher, but is not nearly as flexible as she once was.
Awards and Nominations
RT Book Reviews 4 stars…..TOP PICK Night Owl Reviews….Nominated BEST HISTORICAL The Romance Reviews….Nominated for Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award…Nominated Best Historical Romancing Rakes
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter
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