“You definitely win Christmas,” he said.

Suzanne sighed. As long as he was by her side, she’d always win Christmas.

Turn the page to read a sneak peek of Playing with Trouble, the latest release from USA Today bestselling author Amy Andrews.

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Preview of Playing with Trouble

Chapter One

Cole Hauser was utterly rooted.

And not the good kind of rooted that involved a warm, willing woman and a king-size bed. The kind that came from a long flight and the crossing of so many time zones various parts of his body were still catching up. His brain was back in Sydney, his stomach in Fiji, and his arse was in Hawaii. He was pretty sure his dick had ditched somewhere in the interminable expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

His legs—or his right one, anyway—was in purgatory, a fact blatantly evident as he hauled himself up a staircase right out of Downton fucking Abbey in the dead of night with this goddamn walking stick he hated more than he hated losing a game of rugby. Unfortunately, there was no way on Earth he’d have made the climb without the offending article. His right hip bitched at him, and his thigh screamed in protest with every lift of his foot, and if he hadn’t needed to get horizontal so badly, he’d just give up and lay down on the steps.

For a guy who’d regularly put his body through high-intensity, high-impact rugby games and vigorous bouts of training that would break a lesser man and still be fit and raring for more, he felt like a giant, clumsy, useless baby instead of a grown man of thirty-two. But between the accident, his injuries, multiple surgeries, and a three-hour drive, on top of his never-fucking-ending long-haul flight, he was weaker than a newborn.

And he was still only halfway up the goddamn stairs.

Leaning heavily on his cane on one side and the railing to the other, Cole gritted his teeth and stoically powered to the top, grunting in relief as the floor evened out and the pain went down several notches. He’d been trying not to take his painkillers because they made him too fuzzy, but he’d have killed for a couple now as he contemplated which way to turn.

According to Wade, his house had multiple bedrooms, so it probably wouldn’t matter.

Collecting himself, Cole turned right, venturing forth carefully in the dark. It was a moonless night outside, and, with Wade and CC not currently in residence, there were no stray lights left on. At least with the blinding spots of pain clearing slowly, his night vision had kicked in, but it was still dark, and he was in unfamiliar territory.

And if that wasn’t a metaphor for his life, he didn’t know what was.