Reader's Edyn: Blitz: Restoring Our Chance by Alexa Michaels + GIVEAWAY

**Restoring Our Chance by Alexa Michaels**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! Today I have another new-to-me author to feature. She is here letting us all know about her debut release, RESTORING OUR CHANCE. I am excited to find out more, so let’s get to it! Please allow me to feature on the blog Alexa Michaels … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!

**ALEXA MICHAELS**

**BIO**

When Alexa isn't writing, she can be found with a book in her lap and a mug of coffee or glass of red wine within reach.

A native of the North Woods, Alexa is an avid lake-jumper, beach lounger, and sunshine lover.

Alexa is living a happily ever after with her own steamy hero. Together they have two fur-babies and would love a few more!

To find out more about Ms. Michaels, please visit:

**RESTORING OUR CHANCE**

Publication date: May 29, 2020

Genres: New Adult, Romance, Contemporary

**BLURB**

What if your next patient is an old love, who you haven’t heard from in ten years?

Any other woman would have turned and run the other way the moment they saw Logan Peterson—after what he did, he would deserve it.

The thing is, I can’t walk away from him. And now we have to stay professional, because I am the only one who can help him. But there’s this undeniable pull between us—it’s what brought us together ten years ago and it could destroy us now.

Do I risk a second chance with him? Would it even work, especially since I kept a secret from him for ten years?

And they say love is supposed to be easy, right?

Restoring Our Chance is a second-chance romance featuring a gentlemanly alpha male and a bold, fiery heroine. It is currently a standalone in a soon to be larger series. No cheating. No cliffhangers. But will there be a happily ever after? Well, read it today to see if love can be restored!

***Author’s note: this book is intended for a mature audience in terms of content, language, and passionate happily ever afters!

**EXCERPT**

Her black pencil skirt hugged her curvy hips and I could tell her ass was just as plump and delicious as it had always been. Although her blouse was loose, I knew those perky breasts were in there somewhere. I wanted to go searching through the snowy white material until I freed them from the gauzy fabric. Samantha’s body was perfect, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I could see my case manager ogling her behind as she walked away from him. Although he was a big guy, I was bigger and undoubtedly meaner. I shot him a look, unleashing a fierce scowl at the bastard. And he shrugged, as if to explain that what he was doing was the normal guy thing to do. It might be normal to appreciate a fine woman, but this was no ordinary woman. This was my Sammy. Or at least, she had been.

I looked back to her face, panic bubbling in my chest at the thought: She’s here, but is she mine?

“Good to see you again,” she said, sticking her hand out as if she expected me to shake it.

I crossed my arms and glared down at her. She was a tall woman, and those exquisite heels—which she had tripped over when entering the room—made her even taller, but I could still look down my nose at her. “Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“We were never friends. You were my older brother’s friend, and because of that, I am not sure I am the right doctor for this case. There is a conflict of interest seeing as we have a history—”

“I think our history is exactly why it needs to be you,” I cut in.

I raised an eyebrow in challenge. If the court-appointed babysitter was not present, I might have kissed her then. The plan had been to take it slow and assess the situation, but now that I was back in her presence, all I could think about was picking right back up where we had left off. My dick loved that idea. Clearly my body would get the better of me if I was not careful. The moment she had tripped through that door—always one to make an entrance—the damn piece of wood had become rock hard and was threatening to break the seam of my pants. I was hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“You need a neutral party to do this properly. I am afraid I can’t be neutral.”

“Look, Sammy-Girl—”

She cut me off, suddenly in a well contained rage. There was a flash behind her eyes; those long fingers flew into the air to wave about. I saw that she was about to unleash a volley of emotions on me, but at the last second, she swallowed hard and her splayed fingers found her hips. With that professional demeanor back, the only tell she exhibited was her slightly raised voice and her sharp tone. Her words were laced with venom, something she probably didn’t display with most of her clients. “This is a professional mental health facility in a state of the art hospital, Mr. Peterson. You will address me as Dr. Bowers.”

“Okay, Dr. Sammy.” I chuckled to myself as her eyes grew wide and her nostrils flared.

Fuck it, I had thought. I have to try to give him a smooth transition. I would not be a good doctor if I did not try everything in my power to help him.

Agreeing to take him on as my client meant that things were about to get crazy. I needed to stay professional around the man, even though my body wanted to get into bed with him. Thankfully my mind said there was no way I was going to sleep with him. And since my heart was scarred, it sided with my mind, and together they overruled my body.

I had to save him from what was sure to be a long haul; maybe I needed to save him from himself. If he was mentally unstable, I would have no choice but to have him locked up. Could I send the man I used to adore to that fate? Because if I could not save him, that was the outcome he was facing. However, if I fought for him, I could get burned. Whatever way I went, I was playing with fire.

I needed to talk to him in private and tell him how serious this was. Of course, he might already know that if he was using our childhood codes. I hid my frustration, because for now, I could only continue as best I could until I could have a private consult.

And now he had the gall to sit there, admitting he had brought alcohol on the premises—in my hospital. I was pissed. Already he was not playing by the rules.

“Give me the flask.” My voice was low. There was a challenge in his eyes, but I met it. “Screw you, Soldier.”

“You used to like that,” he whispered, dropping the metal container on the tabletop. He put his hands in his pockets. His slouch was forced, not a natural position for such a formidable male. I barely heard him add, “I can oblige.”

Ignoring his remarks, I gritted my teeth and muscled through. We managed to finish the rest of the assessment. Then I told him, “You have until Monday to decide if this is what you want. I will write my recommendation for treatment. You can come here Monday and stay in this hospital, or I can write a nice memorandum and your superiors can find you a different facility. I will submit the recommendation tonight, and the military panel and lawyers will see it first thing in the morning.”

Then I stood and turned to leave knowing that writing that recommendation would mean I would be late to dance class. It was not something I was happy about. If it was anyone else, I would not have bothered making sure the damn recommendation was sent posthaste.

But this was Logan—my Southern soldier boy. He had been my brother’s best friend since before I was born. He had been my idol, then my lover. And he was the father of my little girl, currently at dance class. If she was ever—and in my mind I wanted it to be a never—going to meet her daddy, I needed to send the damn recommendation. Furthermore, even though Logan had broken my heart and pulverized it into a pile of dust, it was my duty to save him, because no one else would be as invested as I was.

While picking up my materials, I punched a few more notes into the tablet.

Fuck you, Logan, I hissed inside my head. After ten years, how dare he come barreling back into my life? He was already upsetting the gentle balance I had created, as if there weren’t enough things on my plate already.

Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist. It threw me off balance and I would have stumbled if his other hand had not grabbed my waist. Hidden from the case manager, those long fingers brushed the front of my stomach. I stopped breathing. My skin tingled, sending longing to several key places. It had been a very long time since a man’s touch had electrified me like this—ten years to be exact.

“Sammy-Girl, thank you.” He quickly righted me and held out a hand to shake. Then his lips whispered the words, “Why are you helping me?”

There it was: uncertainty. This lethal giant, trained to do what other men could not stomach, was letting his guard down and showing his weakness. That raw pain was palpable. He was scared that this chance I was offering him was too good to be true.

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