Thrown for a Curve: Perfect Fit #2 by Sugar Jamison with Excerpt

Book Review:

An offer on NetGalley, I’m so glad that I grabbed this book: a perfect breath of fresh air in a story that provided laughs, tears and just enough conflict before the happy ending.  Sugar Jamison presents a romance that meshes love, fear, family and even some humor all emanating from her ‘oversized’ heroine Cherri.

Secondary characters are delightful, from friends who have created their own family to the dog one whisker away from being made into doggie stew, to a Ukrainian immigrant grandmother who muddles words when she is upset and is so protective and loving in her outrageous behaviors that she soon becomes a favorite.

Cherri is tall, over six feet, arty and was raised by her grandparents after her mother disappeared without a trace.  Rather than hiding under a desk and sucking her thumb, Cherri manages her often difficult grandmother, the household bills, wrangles a recalcitrant dog and coddles a truck on its last legs.  She has put her life, and her dreams, on hold to serve her own sense of responsibility to the only family she knows.  Rather than use her talents or education to teach art classes, or paint, she is working with her best friends in a dress shop, while caring for her grandmother.  Dating is a non-issue: she doesn’t have time or interest, thinking that her height and curves are off putting to men.

Colin is the local lady killer and best friend to Mike: the man who married Cherri’s boss and treats her like a little sister.  While both he and Colin spent their college years and beyond tearing up the town, Mike’s newfound newlywed status and lack of free time for Colin leave him feeling at loose ends.  After he thought his heart was broken, Colin had not dated, and was finding that Cherri is more than simply intriguing, despite his friend’s concern.

The story proceeds with plenty of humor, particularly Cherri’s own brand of self-deprecation and her banter with her Baba.  Baba is outrageous and loving, and stars early in this book with her antics and outrageous statements.  Colin is so honorable and wonderful, despite his reservations about his attraction to Cherri, and when he finally falls with his outbursts of overly protective alpha and utter confusion about his feelings, you can’t help but enjoy him. Yes, the two are confused and troubled and need to learn to communicate: but the combination of them together brings out the best of them both, mostly.

A fun, quirky and quick reading story with plenty of characters to enjoy and appreciate: the lighthearted tone and humor keep readers engaged and enjoying the plot.  While I had not read the first in the series, I will be searching it out for my own enjoyment. It is not necessary to read these in order, and I can’t wait to see what the next book reveals.

Thrown for a Curve: Perfect Fit #2 by Sugar Jamison with Excerpt

Title: Thrown for A Curve
Author: Sugar Jamison
Published by: St. Martin's Press
Source: Publisher via NetGalley
Pages: 336
Rated: four-stars
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See this Title on Goodreads

WHEN YOU’RE A big girl

Cherri has often wished she were thin and graceful like a ballerina instead of being a six-foot-tall blonde with curves that require serious caution. Surely a charming Irishman like her new boss Colin, with his throaty brogue and to-die-for bod, would never go for someone like Cherri. Unless maybe he’s looking for the exact opposite of a delicate lass?

there’s more of you to love

When Colin hired Cherri to work in his furniture-restoration shop, he had his eyes, first and foremost, on her artistic talents. But now he can’t help but see Cherri for the lush, spirited beauty that she is…and, soon enough, he finds himself mixing business with pleasure. But Cherri turns out to be more vulnerable than she appears. Is she in need of more than Colin can give? Or could it be that a feeling stronger than lust has him thrown for a curve?

A copy of this title was provided via Publisher via NetGalley for purpose of honest review. I was not compensated for this review: all conclusions are my own responsibility.


He looked up at the sound of a female voice calling his name. Cherri stood in the
doorway of his shop, bundled up in a hat, her homemade scarf, and a puffy coat.
His heart malfunctioned at the sight of her, performing some kind of stupid
squeezing thumping thing.
Something was wrong. She had never stepped foot in his territory before.
He took two steps toward her before stopping. She held some sort of wooden box
in her hands. It was in pieces, and judging by the look on her face she wasn’t too
far from fall- ing to pieces herself.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, his mind chanted. He wasn’t sure he could take it
She looked unsure for a moment, taking a step backward. “Are you busy? I—I
don’t want to bother you if you are.”
“Come here, love.” He stayed frozen as he watched her come toward him. Even in
a too-puffy coat that hid far too much of her body, she was lovely to look at as she
crossed his shop.
“I can’t pay you much,” she said, handing the pieces of the broken box to him.
“But do you think you might be able to make it play again?”
She looked so innocent, so heartbroken, as if somebody had stomped on her
favorite toy. “You don’t have to pay me anything, you daft girl.” With his head he
motioned toward the stool he kept at his workbench. “Sit. I’ll take a look at it.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, flashing him those pretty dimples of hers. “Baba was so
upset that she dropped it. I want to make it whole for her.”
He had yet to examine the box or to focus on her words. He was too busy
watching her strip out of her winter gear. Under it she wore a pink cardigan with a
white tank top that was just low-cut enough that he could make out the tops of her
buttermilk-colored breasts. A voice, probably his conscience, ordered his eyes
She’s not what you need right now.
His gaze traveled to her head and the ugly wool hat she wore on it. It was the last
to go, and he stared as her rowdy mane of golden hair tumbled to her shoulders.
She really had no idea how beautiful she was. No clue. He had heard her say that
she was built like a lumberjack but all he saw was a tall curvy goddess. Even with
her cheeks red from the cold and her eyes glossy from the wind she was lovely. It
made him forget that she was the last person he should be attracted to.
“What?” Her emerald-colored eyes widened and her cheeks darkened with
embarrassment. “If you tell me I have snot on my face I’ll die.”
“No.” He chuckled. “I was wondering if you walked here. You look a bit like a
Cherri Popsicle.”
That I would like to lick.
He mentally castigated himself for that one. He lost all common sense around her.
“I did walk here. But I walk everywhere and it’s not be- cause I own the world’s
shittiest car. Walking helps me keep my big bottom from spreading into a huge
But I like fat-bottomed girls.
Colin kept his mouth shut to make sure his inappropriate response didn’t come
out. An image of her very curvy be- hind shot into his mind and . . . Knock it off!
He shook his head and finally looked at the box. “So you’ve brought me a music
box.” He studied it for a few moments. It was factory- made, mostly cheap wood.
There was nothing spectacular about it except for the intricate pink roses painted
on the lid. That alone made the box worth saving.
“Beautiful.” He glanced up at Cherri. “You wouldn’t happen to know who painted
this? This is some of the best detail work I’ve ever seen.”
She beamed at him, dimples flashing, skin glowing. He gulped. “I painted it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Her eyes lit. “Dorky art major. Remember? My painting skills make up for my
lack of beauty and grace.”
“You’re very beautiful, Cherri,” he said without thinking. “I don’t think you
realize how exquisite you are.”
“Exquisite?” She laughed that deep throaty laugh of hers, and heat unfurled in his
gut. “You must get a lot of ass.”
“What?” Her statement knocked him off guard.
“Ass? Tail? Panties dropping? Any of those ring a bell? I’m saying that you must
have a lot of women trying to have sex with you. Probably some men, too.”
The blood rushed out of his brain as soon as the word sex formed on her lips.
She was just twenty-two years old. And in the two years he had known her, he had
never seen her date. He had never seen her with a guy. She was mature for her age
but she had this innocence around her. And yet something about hearing those
words come from her mouth made his remaining brain cells malfunction. She was
the only woman he had a hard time keeping his cool around. He was more than
just attracted to her and he wasn’t sure why.
“For fuck’s sake, Cherri, where the hell did that question come from?”
She waved a dismissing hand at him. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know. The
brogue, the pretty words, not to mention the way you look, all make you deity-like
with your sex appeal. You probably don’t have to work hard to get women to drop
their drawers.”
No, he never did. Using his hands and getting women to fall into bed were the
only things he excelled at. He was like his pop that way. It took running into an ex
whose name he couldn’t remember to show him that. So many women. So many
empty I love yous. It never took away that empty feeling in his chest. He promised
himself he wouldn’t say those words again unless he meant it.
“But you don’t have to use any of that charm on me. I won’t fall for it. Well . . .
Not too hard,” he heard her say when he tuned back into the conversation

About Sugar Jamison

Sugar Jamison is a southern belle trapped in a New Yorker's body. With a love of big hair and high heeled shoes, she spends her day at her very normal day job and night dreaming up sweet but sassy romances.

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