I am a full-time mom of boys, nursing student, and professional reader/reviewer. I love to read anything and everything but usually shy away from westerns. I love helping out authors, especially up and coming authors. Feel free to contact me for reviews. I will let you know a general timeline on when to expect my review. I will post reviews here, goodreads, amazon, smashwords, and audible if an audiobook. If you want to connect on Tsu http://www.tsu.co/mommaforever
seems turbulence isn’t always caused by weather.
up as past loves collide…
High school sweethearts re unite
forty years later at 37,000 feet.
Fifty eight year old commercial
airline pilot, Bobbi Cooper, gets a blast from the past when her high school
sweetheart, Mack McConnell, appears as one her first class passengers on her
747 transatlantic flight to London.
Used to being in control at all
times, Bobbi is reeling from a crummy marriage and she must learn at Mack’s
capable hands that losing control can be oh so sexy.
silence. Then the familiar sensation of her stomach being dragged down, right
down to her standard issue black shoes. G force. It was the same every time.
the autopilot and taking control of the 747, Bobbi gripped the throttle in her
right hand, fearlessly pushing it forward. Slow and even. The plane bounced and
shook in the wake turbulence of a passing 767. The muffled sounds of
passengers’ outbursts at the sudden drop mingled with the clatter and clang of
the galley carts that Bobbi damn well hoped were secured as she’d ordered.
They had to
head to higher airspace. Now.
better than to heed the shrill rapid warnings echoing throughout the cockpit to
urgently trim to turbulence penetration airspeed.
first officer, nodded as they increased power and held the jet seemingly
against its will. Dozens of lights flashed. Air traffic control rattled off a
series of confirmations when she pressed the plane higher, the metal creaking
as she forced nearly a million pounds of steel and its occupants upward.
throttle hard, Bobbi knew smooth air was only a few moments away. Under her
guidance, the plane jostled and battled its way through the rough air. A sudden
bump, followed by another, then the resulting loud gasp from the passengers.
Holding firm at
her command, they broke through the rough air into an eerie smoothness as they
glided seemingly effortlessly into calmer airspace.
only now aware she’d been holding her breath. Turbulence was an everyday
occurrence for a seasoned pilot like herself, but this had caught her off
guard. A heady mix of bad weather and the wake turbulence of the other aircraft
had left her reeling when she tried to steady the 747 inbound for Heathrow.
away to double-check some details with the flight engineer seated behind him.
Bobbi wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow when he wasn’t looking. As captain
of the immense beast, Bobbi couldn’t let her fellow officers—or any crew for
that matter—see her sweat under pressure. And that was becoming more of an
issue, since hot flashes were now often brought on not by an adrenaline rush
from flying but by Mother Nature.
couldn’t believe she would be fifty-eight next year. Where had the time gone?
She knew damn
well where it had gone. First a stepping-stone career in the Air Force and then
thirty years flying commercial. Enough to establish her as one of the
highest-ranking woman pilots in the country as a 747 captain for Atlantica
Bobbi said, switching back to autopilot and settling the aircraft into the
calmer and higher altitude.
Scott did as
she ordered and tinkered with the gauges, she watched. Once she was sure all
was under control, Bobbi unbuckled her shoulder harness and rose from her seat,
reassured all was secure.
“Keep her on
route—I’m stepping back for a moment. You two got it?” she asked, standing
behind her first officer Scott and her flight engineer Neville, the new recruit
fresh from a small regional airline.
“Sure, Bob, we got it,” Scott said
casually, calling her by the familiar cockpit nickname. “Have them send up some
coffee while you’re back there.”
Bobbi buzzed for the flight attendant to
open the cockpit door. Standard procedure after 9/11. Bobbi peered out through
the peephole. It was Sandy, the flight attendant with a penchant for displaying
her ample cleavage by wearing her uniform extra tight, so it hugged all her
curves. But it wasn’t only her inappropriate dress that annoyed Bobbi. It was
the fact she’d also had fucked Bobbi’s husband.
then again, who hasn’t?
After divorce and company paid-for
counseling, Bobbi had come to the realization, and then acceptance, that Sandy
was just one on a long list of Greg’s conquests. She did her best not to hold a
grudge, but that was a constant challenge, as she ran into Sandy more than she
would have liked. Once a century was about what Bobbi could tolerate, although
it had been cleared by corporate that they were fine to work together. And they
were. Bobbi was a professional. Through and through. She’d fought tooth and
nail for her job, and with three and a half years until retirement, with the
promise of a cushy pension waiting for her, which she’d only have to marginally
share with Greg according to the settlement, there was no way she was going to
let Sandy or any of the others put her off her game.
“How’d everyone do?” Bobbi asked Sandy
with her cool, composed captain’s demeanor. It was the one piece of her dignity
she’d salvaged among the women flight attendants, a good majority of whom had
been treated to Greg’s lustful attentions.
Sandy motioned with her head back toward
the passenger area. “Fine,” she reported. “Chucker in aisle sixteen and a few
more farther back, but they should be fine now.” Chuckers. That was what they called the passengers who couldn't hang on to lunch during a bumpy flight. Today had been a doozy, and it wasn't over yet.
Bobbi noticed with subtle irritation that
Sandy’s blouse strained against her perky breasts as she efficiently flicked
the switch on the coffee machine. Her bosom jiggled while she scooped ice into
a plastic cup and pulled a can of tomato juice out of the galley cart. Shit. Greg really hadn’t had a chance.
Big brown doe eyes and a body that wouldn’t quit. The sexy flight attendant was
everything Bobbi wasn’t. Not that it mattered now. Greg was on to new, greener
pastures. Her ex was consistent she scoffed —his conquests all had one, no make
that two things in common— big knockers and tiny, round asses. Men were shit,
really. Why she had let herself be demeaned and embarrassed by his bad behavior
for as long as she had, she’d never know. C'est le vie, Bobbi coached herself as she smiled her most innocuous smile at Sandy.
“Plan for a bumpy ride in to
Heathrow—there’ll be some more weather ahead,” Bobbi warned her. “Might need
“Sure thing, Captain,” Sandy said as she
snapped open the lid on the can, poured the tomato juice over ice and handed it
Bobbi nodded her appreciation and gulped
down her customary in-flight refreshment. “I’m going back for a few minutes,”
she said, handing the empty cup back to Sandy before pulling back the curtain
to first class. “And send some coffee in for Scott and Neville before we head
Entering the first-class cabin on her way
to the pilot’s rest area located between first class and business, Bobbi
scanned the spacious cabin. Most of her passengers were now contentedly dozing,
oblivious to the formidable battle she’d been waging in the cockpit to keep
them in precariously calm airspace. But that was her job—to deliver five
hundred souls safely to London.
Sunlight illuminated the plush first-class
cabin through a few half-drawn window shades, but not quite to enough to keep
the blinding sun from searing into her eyes. Squinting, she walked down the
aisle, passing by the first row.
A collective gasp came from the passengers
when the plane hit another deep air pocket. Bobbi reached out to steady
herself, placing her hand on the headrest of the second row seat for a brief
second, smiling reassuringly at the surrounding passengers. She was their
pilot, after all.
The passenger in the nearest seat looked
up at her.
Bobbi smiled down, then did a double take.
“Bobbi?” the male passenger asked, looking
up at her. “Bobbi…Bobbi Cooper?”
“Yes,” Bobbi said, instantly recognizing
his features. Her mind was spinning. Those dark-blue eyes. And that
unmistakable voice. Velvety and thick. The way scotch felt when it slid down
her throat. She’d know that voice and that face anywhere. Even if it had been
It was Mack.
This is the first book I’ve read by Kate Deveaux so I didn’t
know quite what to expect from this new author. Not being much of a short story
type of gal, I figured that I wouldn’t be super impressed with the book. Boy
was I surprised!
We are introduced to Captain Bobbi Cooper and Mack as high
school sweethearts that haven’t seen each other in decades, who unexpectedly
meet on a flight that Bobbi was piloting. They both try to deny the old flames
that start sparking up, but you know that THAT never works! Things go up and
down for a bit and we get a view of several emotions and happenings. I won’t go
into anything deeper than that, because you NEED to read it yourself.
What I loved about this story was the fast paced tempo and
the emotional roller coaster that Ms. Deveaux took me for a ride on. She was
able to pack so much into this short story but not in an overwhelmingly way. I
will definitely be looking for more of her work! I definitely give this 5
Kate Deveaux is a contemporary,
erotic romance writer and die-hard romantic. It was after reading Jane Eyre in
high school, that she became hooked on the idea of writing about romance, excitement
and drama. Kate has been penning stories, from the sensual to the sinfully
sexy, ever since.
A former wedding planner, Kate
has always been "in love" with love!
She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full
length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry
workshops, conferences and events. Originally from England, now resides in the
U.S. with her husband. When she’s not writing or reading, Kate can be found on
the tennis court—yes, there’s even "love" in that game too!