About No
Regrets:
On
my last birthday, I made one vow for the year. Live with no regrets. Eleven
months have passed, though, and nothing has changed. I still sleep alone, spend
my life working, and never move out of my comfort zone.
Then the loss of my dog throws my whole
life out of orbit, and I end up in bed with a very hot and slightly-too-young
veterinarian, who has recently made a vow of his own. Live with no strings.
Josh is more than happy to help me with the things I’ve been afraid to try.
Semi-public sex. Spanking. Anal sex. He’s a willing partner for everything I’ve
wondered about, as long as I don’t demand more.
He’s serious about his no-strings
philosophy. As serious as I am about living with no regrets. I can’t help but
fall for him, even though I know better. So my biggest regret might be a broken
heart.
Release Date: July 22nd,
2014
Michele's Review
4 Star
I went into this novel with no expectations, not being familiar
with the author, and not a reader of the romance/erotica genre, I didn’t want
to have my judgment clouded by my misgivings of what it would be. I was drawn in immediately. Within 3 pages I
was bawling my damn fool head off, sobbing like a child, I soldiered on and was
rewarded with a tale of scorching hot sex, romance and friendship. I seriously
finished this book in 2 hours in the middle of the night during a bout of
insomnia. Glad I read it when the kids were in bed!
I would definitely recommend this book. There were only a
couple of issues I found I didn’t care for with the story. The first was the repetition
of some of the same words/phrases; I realize that sometimes there isn’t a way
to avoid that considering the subject manner. Secondly, I want to know more of
Josh’s story. What happened to make him
the way that he is, what did he see? What did he experience? That was kind of
left to the reader’s imagination, I would have liked to have seen it fleshed
out more into the story line. Overall, the characters were done well, I was
empathetic with Leslie, and charmed by Josh when I didn’t want to knock both of
them over the head for what was obvious. The opening scene of the novel was
heart-wrenching and heart-felt and probably true to life. Taking all of that into account, I would rate
this book a solid 4 stars and would be happy to read more offerings from this
author.
Check out more by Claire Kent:
Excerpt:
I couldn’t stay on this park bench
forever.
I hadn’t moved yet. I was still staring
blindly at the dogs and people on the path when I noticed from the corner of my
eye a man slowing down from a run and then jogging toward me.
Glancing over, I expected him to head past
me toward the parking lot, but he seemed to be coming directly toward me.
When he got close, I realized it was Dr.
Bennett.
He looked different than he had this
morning. He wore a t-shirt and gym shorts, both wet with perspiration. His face
and short brown hair were wet too. He’d obviously been running hard.
His eyes rested on me as he approached.
Obviously, he’d recognized me. Before I’d recognized him.
“Hey,” he said, breathing heavily. “How are
you doing?”
“Fine.”
It was a stupid question and a stupid
answer, but that’s what people do. It was part of living in a civilized world.
You made up nice-sounding lies and you said them to each other, instead of
talking about how much the world sucked.
His face was flushed, and he was having
trouble catching his breath. Bending at the waist, he rasped, “I better do a
lap to cool down. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
I had no idea why he’d bother coming back.
We didn’t know each other. We had nothing to say to each other. And I wasn’t
really in the mood for talking.
He’d killed my dog that morning, but I
could hardly hold it against him.
He took a slow jog around the track and
ended up back at the bench with a water bottle in his hand. His breathing was
less ragged as he sat down beside me.
He didn’t say anything, and I felt a little
strange. I didn’t know exactly what he expected from me. I certainly wasn’t
going to cry on his shoulder, if that was what he was thinking.
So I just asked a casual question. “You’re
done with your shift for the day?”
“Yeah. I got off at three.”
“Do you always come here to run
afterwards?”
“Sometimes.” His vivid blue eyes rested on
my face, searching or questioning or something. “It’s on the way home.”
“Have you lived in Lexington long?”
“I grew up here—in Versailles, actually.
But I just moved back to the area.”
“Where were you before?”
“Vet school.”
“Oh.” I blinked, slightly surprised. I’d
landed on his age as younger than me but still in his thirties, but he must be
quite a bit younger if he was just out of vet school. “So you just got your
degree?”
“Yeah.” As if he could see the surprise in
my face, he added, “I started late. I didn’t go right after college.”
That made more sense. The conversation, as
casual as it was, managed to distract me from thoughts of Polly, so I pursued
it. “What were you doing before you went to vet school.”
He didn’t answer immediately, which
prompted my curiosity. To take the edge off the silence, I said, “Bank robber?
Computer hacker?”
He gave a low chuckle and smiled at me—not
broadly, but it still transformed his face until he was almost unbearably
attractive, even as sweaty as he was. “Nothing that exciting. I was in
Chad.”
“Chad? In Africa?
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” My eyes widened in surprise. “What
were you doing there?”
“International aid work. I started right
after college and did it through most of my twenties. I was mostly in Chad and
Sudan.”
“So what made you decide to be a vet
instead?”
He gave a strange little shrug and looked
away from me. “I couldn’t do it anymore. And animals…are different.”
I studied him, trying to read his
expression, trying to interpret the paradoxically empty bitterness on his face.
There was obviously more going on with him, but there was no reason to expect
him to tell me.
There was no reason I needed to know.
“What do you do?” he asked, obviously
trying to change the subject.
“Paralegal.”
“Who do you work for?”
We chatted for almost a half-hour, about my
job, about how he was settling back into the area, about running—which I used
to do, although not much recently.
Eventually, the perspiration had dried on
his skin and his clothes, and we’d both faded into reflective silence.
I felt a little better—like I wasn’t on the
verge of tears—but the thought of going home still filled my stomach with
dread.
He’d been staring off in the distance, and
he said without warning, “This morning was the first time I’ve had to do
that.”
I glanced at him in surprise, realizing
immediately what he was referring to. “Aren’t you supposed to be professional
and distanced about the whole thing?”
“I guess. I thought I’d be able to keep the
right perspective with animals, but it was harder than I thought. She seemed
like a very sweet dog.”
I took a loud, ragged breath as emotion
surged up. “She was.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.” I took a few more breaths until I
was in control again. “I really don’t want to go home.”
“Do you want to get a drink or
something?”
I blinked. “Right now, you mean?”
“Yeah. Why not? I don’t want to go home
either.”
I finally landed on an explanation for his
mood. He seemed adrift, kind of lost, not emotional but torn in some way.
I wondered what he’d experienced in Chad.
What it had done to him. Why he’d decided against working with people anymore.
Even yesterday, I would have said “no” to
his invitation. For the last few months, I hadn’t done much of anything except
go to work and take care of Polly. I hadn’t liked to leave her in the
evenings.
It had been years since I’d had a drink
with a guy I didn’t know, and this particular guy was too young for me
anyway.
But it was just a drink. Nothing more. He
wasn’t coming on to me. He was just being nice. And it would give me something
to do with myself, other than go home to an apartment without Polly.
I felt a little better, talking to him.
Like the world wasn’t about to pull me into some sort of black hole.
I remembered my vow, eleven months ago, on the
day I’d turned thirty-eight.
I was supposed to be living with no
regrets, and so far I hadn’t done a good job.
This would be something I wouldn’t have to
regret.
“Okay,” I said. “Why not?”
About Claire
Kent:
Claire has been writing romance novels since she
was twelve years old. She has a PhD in British literature and, when she's not
writing, she teaches English at the university level.
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