New Release + Review: Hooking Him by Aurora Rose Reynolds



Title: Hooking Him

Series: How to Catch an Alpha #3

Author: Aurora Rose Reynolds

Publisher: Montlake Romance

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 16, 2020


Anna McAlister needs a new life. But that doesn’t mean she needs a new
man. After leaving her fiancé and Chicago behind, she promises herself no
dating until she finds what she’s looking for. But meeting one seriously hot
and determined detective has her questioning herself.
Calvin Miller is that detective, and he’s been burned by women in the
past. It’s easy for him to sleep alone and focus on his work, but the moment he
lays eyes on Anna, he starts imagining sexy nights with her wrapped in his
sheets. Maybe it’s time to get back out there.
But just as the attraction between them begins to sizzle, Anna’s past
shows up to create trouble. And to make matters worse, a string of murders
forces Calvin to juggle his new relationship and his career. His worst fear?
That the two are somehow connected.
Can they find love together, or will her past and his duty sink their
Review pic

FIVE 🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩 hats from Britt!


Sweet, sexy, and funny Hooking Him is Aurora Rose Reynolds at her finest! Reading this took me back to why I fell in love with her books in the first place. From the heartfelt romance to the hilarious moments every second of this book was a joy to read. There was no pacing myself once I picked this up, it was utterly unputdownable.
I was completely engrossed in all things Anna and Calvin from the moment I started reading until the very last page. Their story is all things swoony romance punctuated by hilarity from friends and a huge dose of sweetness to go right along with the heat these two put out.

Purchase Links
Free in Kindle Unlimited


Suggestion 1





“Are you happy?” my friend Lucy asks, and I instinctively
tighten my fingers around my cell phone as I put my bare feet up on the wooden
rail in front of me. I’ve lived most of my life in the city, surrounded by
skyscrapers and the constant sound of chatter and traffic, with air clogged
with the scents of food and exhaust. Now, sitting on the back deck of my studio
apartment in a small coastal town in South Carolina, with the ocean mere feet
away, the sun warming my skin, and a slight breeze playing in my hair, I wonder
how I survived in Chicago for so long.
“I’m getting there,” I answer, smiling as I watch a young family laughing and
playing in the surf nearby.


“Even living in a small studio apartment and working at a bakery?” She sounds
skeptical, and I remind myself she just doesn’t understand. Like everyone else
back in Chicago, she doesn’t get why I’d choose to go from making over $60,000
a year, living in a beautiful penthouse apartment, planning a wedding to a good
man—who also happens to be gorgeous—to moving to a town where I know almost no
one. Where I’m renting an apartment the size of my old bathroom and working a
job that pays in a month what I used to make in a week.


“Even living in an apartment and working at the bakery,” I reply, keeping my
tone neutral before adding quietly, “I do miss you, though.” It’s not a lie:
Lucy has been in my life since I can remember. Our parents were friends, so we
practically grew up together.
“I still don’t get it,” she says with a sigh, and my heart sinks. I keep hoping
she will, but as the months pass, it’s becoming more and more clear that she
won’t. None of my friends or family do. They don’t understand that I didn’t
just wake up one day and decide to give everything up. Every day for years, I
woke up and looked at myself in the mirror, disliking the materialistic,
shallow woman I was becoming. Until one day I decided to do something about it.
“I should let you go. I’m sure you have stuff to do, and I promised Edie that
I’d go with her to bingo.”
“Bingo? You’re playing bingo?” She laughs.
I can’t help the smile that tips up my lips. “Yeah, it’s actually kind of fun.”
“If you say so,” she says, sounding distracted, and then a moment later, a
distinctive male voice in the background asks her something, and I know it’s
Lance, my ex-fiancé, who’s a partner at her firm. “Sorry, I gotta go, Anna.”
“No problem,” I tell her, feeling nauseous. “Bye.” I hang up before she has a
chance to reply and then sit forward, dropping my head into my hands as I think
back to the look on Lance’s face when I gave him back his ring and told him
that we were over. He didn’t say a word and walked away, looking devastated.
The hardest part about leaving Chicago wasn’t the lifestyle I was giving up; it
was losing him. Even though I wasn’t in love with him, he was my friend. For
the five years we were in a relationship, he was a constant in my life, someone
I depended on for support, and he was one of the few people who understood the
dysfunctional relationship I had with my parents and encouraged me to take a
step back from them when they hurt me with their carelessness.
Not wanting to spend the day dwelling on something that would leave me
depressed, I pull in a deep breath, expecting to inhale the fresh sea air, but
my nose wrinkles when the distinct scent of pot hits me. I open my eyes, get up
from my lounger, and stop midway across the deck when a big puff of smoke
floats up from the porch below. I walk quietly to the edge and look over the
rail, wondering if someone from the beach has decided to hide out and get high.
But then I shake my head when I see Dixie and Pearl, my landlady Edie’s best
friends, who are in their seventies, standing at her back door and sharing what
looks like a joint: an object that seems out of place, given their grandmotherly
appearance. Both women are dressed like they’re about to go golfing, in their
pastel polo shirts and khaki capris, all capped by white hair that’s styled,
like always, in an array of curls.
“Isn’t weed illegal?”
Both women jump, and Dixie, who’s holding the joint, tosses it away, yelling
“Oh shit!” while Pearl screams, searching until she finds me on the deck above.
“Anna!” Pearl says, glaring. “You scared the dickens out of me.”
“Dickens,” Dixie says with a giggle as the back door opens.
“What on earth is going on out here?” Edie asks, stepping outside wearing a
white linen outfit with her short hair feathered back from a gracefully aging
“Anna tried to give us heart attacks,” Pearl says accusingly, pointing up at
me, and Edie tips her head back, smiling when she spots me.
Edie was the first person I met when I moved to South Carolina. She had an
apartment for rent in her house, and when I answered the ad, she invited me
over to view the space. I fell in love with it because it was right on the
beach, but after spending an hour with her, I also wanted the apartment because
it would give me an excuse to spend time with her. I didn’t understand why I
was so drawn to her at first, but something about being in her presence made me
feel hopeful. Then one night, over wine, she opened up about her past and told
me about her ex-husband, who she was with for more than twenty years before she
found the courage to leave him. And when she did, she found a way to be happy,
even when he and her family were all sure she would come back with her tail
tucked between her legs. I guess her story gave me the hope to fight for my own
“They’re smoking weed,” I inform her, waving my hand at both women.
“I have glaucoma.” Pearl plants her hands on her hips.
“Really?” I ask, and her eyes narrow on mine in challenge.
“It’s time for us to go anyway,” Edie announces.
“Found it!” Dixie shouts, and Pearl breaks her stare-down with me to turn to
her friend, who holds up the joint like it’s a trophy.
“Anna.” My eyes move to Edie. “Meet us at the car. I want to get to the bingo
hall before Carol so she doesn’t take our table.”
“That woman is annoying,” Dixie mutters.
“She’s such a show-off,” Pearl says, taking the joint from Dixie and wrapping
what’s left of it in a tissue she pulls from her bra. “Who cares that you have
five grandkids when they don’t even like you?”
“Right!” Dixie agrees while opening the door for Pearl to go inside before her.
“Meet us in the driveway,” Edie says, and I narrow my eyes on hers. “What?”
“I notice you’re not saying anything about them smoking pot. Did you smoke with
“Not today.” She winks, then disappears inside. I watch the door close behind
her, unsure if she’s joking. She, Pearl, and Dixie might all be older than me,
but you’d never know by the way they act and the things they say.
“Well, today should be interesting,” I sigh to myself before going into my
apartment and shutting the door. I walk between my bed and the open kitchen to
the closet and slide my feet into a pair of flip-flops before grabbing a plaid
button-down shirt and tying it around my waist. I learned the first time Edie
dragged me to the bingo hall that they keep the room a degree above
freezing—something that wouldn’t have been bad if I hadn’t dressed for the heat
and humidity outside. I stop and grab my keys, along with my purse, then lock
up before taking the stairs down to the driveway, where Edie, Dixie, and Pearl
are waiting.
“I can drive.” I hold up the keys to my Ford, and they all turn in my
“Where’s the rest of your shorts?” Pearl asks, and I look down at my denim
cutoffs, which are short but not any shorter than what girls wear nowadays.
Still, they’re shorter than anything I would’ve worn a year ago.
“Oh, stop. If you had legs like hers, you’d show them off too,” Edie scolds,
and I glance up, catching her shaking her head at her friend before she looks
at me. “Anna, you drive like an old lady. You’re riding shotgun. Get in.” She
presses a button on her keys, and the doors unlock.
“I don’t drive like an old lady,” I say to defend myself as I open the door to
her red BMW convertible and pull the seat forward for Pearl and Dixie to get in
the back.
“The last time I rode with you, you drove thirty in a fifty.”
“It was a construction zone. I was following the rules.”
“It was after eight at night. They weren’t even working.”
“Whatever.” I push the seat back into place and get in. I reach for my seat
belt as she starts the engine and lowers the roof. As soon as the top locks
into place, she backs out of the driveway, and I’m reaching out for the handle
on the door when I hear her laugh.
“Relax, child. I’ve never gotten in an accident.”
“Really?” I glance at her quickly, not wanting to take my eyes off the road,
even though I’m not the one driving.
“Well . . . maybe I should say I have never gotten into an accident that was my
“That sounds a little more believable,” I reply, then pull in a sharp breath as
she turns onto the on-ramp for the highway and presses her foot more firmly on
the gas. I hold my breath as she merges into traffic and then squeeze my eyes
closed as she zooms forward to pass in front of a semi. I feel the car start to
slow and open my eyes. I release the breath I’ve been holding as we take the
next exit and stop at a red light. When the light turns green, my fingers
tighten on the handle of the door, turning my knuckles white as she takes a
right and presses the gas once more. I start to pray when she hugs the bumper
of the car in front of us, and then my heart drops into my stomach when I hear
the distinctive sound of police sirens.
“Oh shit,” comes from the back seat as Edie pulls over and places the car in
park. I look over my shoulder and watch Pearl reach into her shirt, pull out a
white tissue, and shove it under the seat in front of her.
Oh my God. “Was that your joint?” I shout, and Pearl glares at me.
“Just be cool. This isn’t a big deal.” Edie wraps her hand around my upper leg,
and I focus on her and nod, not feeling cool at all. My leg starts to bounce as
we wait for t

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