Wicked Game

ALL THE PINING!!!!One of my favorite tropes of all time is childhood crush buried under false animosity - and this lush frenemies story delivers it in spades!There’s a song by Chris Isaac from the 90s called Wicked Game, and the taunting antagonistic, provocative banter sallied back and forth by Morgan and Harriet was like listening to that song!They are both in complete denial of how they feel.Their childhood of shared memories - climbing trees and playing pranks and becoming more entwined with each passing day simmers just beneath the surface, an inevitable prelude to the intensity of their true feelings. The competitive nature of their relationship creates an intoxicating dynamic based on delayed gratification and mutual pining. A true example of the “I’m going to insist I hate your guts so I won’t kiss you senseless” trope. The last thing Morgan wants to admit to Harriet is that thoughts of her gave him hope when he endured the brutality of war and his imprisonment at the hands of the enemy. The last thing he wants to admit is that thoughts of her compel him to be a better person, to give up his first love - the sea.The last thing Harriet wants to admit is that she missed his aggravatingly handsom face and broad shoulders and the teasing glint in his eyes. The last thing she wants to admit is that she wondered if he would return, and the minute he does the world seems immediately brighter.This book solidifies Kate Bateman’s position in my historical romance canon even more! It made me even more excited to read Rhys’s story, which I hope is released next year:)Some of my favorite quotes:She would taste of disapproval and desire: a heady, irresistible combination.Kissing her had been extraordinary. The taste of her, the smell of her skin, had turned his brain to mush and his cock to iron. And what he hadn’t expected was the surge of possessiveness, the soul-deep feeling of rightness: the sense that after all his years of travels he’d finally found his way back home.“Men always say things like that. But I’d rather have someone build me a city, not burn one down. Destroying something is the work of a moment. Creating something that will stand the test of time takes much more effort.”His love for her glowed inside him like banked embers. She’d accused him of laughing at her, of making her the butt of his jokes, and he had, but that was only half the story. She’d also been the shore to which he’d navigated. The X on the map that marked treasure. His star. His guiding light, the one fixed point by which he’d set his course. Home.“And love isn’t about grand gestures. It’s all the tiny, everyday, seemingly insignificant things that all add up to something big….It’s finding someone to do nothing with, that’s the real test. Someone with whom to just sit and read by the fire. Someone to eat dinner with. To converse with, or not converse, as the mood takes us.”“Have you ever considered that mapmakers like you need sailors like me?” She raised her brows at his cocky, self-congratulatory tone. “Oh, really? How so? “Because we’re the ones who fill in all your empty spaces.”“You’re salty. Like all the important things in life. Tears. Sweat. The sea.”