Synopsis:
From
Emma Hart, the New York Times bestselling author of the Game series, comes a
brand new series where the game is realer, the tension is tighter, the sex is
hotter, and the stakes are the highest of all…
Two
people. Two agendas. Two games.
What
happens when the out-there It-Boy of football meets the secret It-Girl of
fashion?
As
the daughter of Hollywood’s sweetheart, Leah Veronica can’t even buy a coffee
without finding her face on a magazine stand, so it’s no wonder she’s launching
her first fashion line in secret. With it debuting at New York Fashion Week in
just under a month, extra time in the spotlight is the last thing she needs.
The
son of the best quarterback the league has ever seen, filling legendary shoes
as the L.A. Vipers’ quarterback was inevitable for Corey Jackson. So was
meeting Leah Veronica—the first girl to hand him his ass without putting a hair
out of place.
Getting
the handsome, prickly blonde into his bed becomes his number one goal. But
getting the sexy, over-confident footballer the hell away from her becomes
Leah’s—at least until she realizes the best way to do that is to give him what
he wants.
If
only it was that simple.
When
Corey discovers who she is, and private photos of Hollywood’s finest find their
way online, everything they thought they knew is thrown into disarray.
And
when secrets are exposed and hearts are shattered, they have to figure out if
they’ve been blindsided by love or reality, and if it’s worth running the extra
yard to win the game they never meant to play.
Buy Links:
Amazon | Amazon UK | iBooks | Barnes & Noble
Excerpt:
“My feet are
killing me,” I groan, leaning against the bar. “This is why I don’t wear
heels!”
“Nah, you’re fine.
You just need another drink.” Ryann raps her knuckles against the top of the
bar and flicks her hair. The bartender shoots down to us like a baby after
candy. “Three tequila shots please.”
“Aw, shit,” Macey
mutters. “Not tequila. Anything but the devil drink! That should only be drunk
in the safety of my apartment.”
I hold the tiny
glass in front of my face. “It’ll stop my feet hurting. I don’t give a shit.”
“I’ll remind you
that you said that when you call me tomorrow with a hangover.”
“I promise I’ll
drink some water before I go to bed. My mom will kill me if I’m hungover
tomorrow.” I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back. “Holy shit.” The
tequila lights a fiery trail from my throat to my stomach. “Another.”
Ryann smirks and
throws my words back at me. “Your mom will kill you if you have a hangover
tomorrow.” Ryann smirks and throws my words back at me.
“Fuck off.” I
click my tongue. “It’s my birthday, which, by the way, I’ve spent working and
watching my half-assed football team almost throw a game. If I say another
tequila, I want another tequila.”
“Okay.” Ryann
shrugs, waving the bartender over again. “Three more, and three margaritas.”
He nods and fixes
the drinks. A few minutes later, they appear in front of us, and I grab my
purse.
“This is my
round.”
“Hell no!” Macey
cries. “It’s illegal to buy your own drinks on your birthday.”
“But—”
“She’s right,” a
smooth voice with a hint of a Texas accent says from behind me. “At least it is
in Texas.”
I spin on my seat
and look into the devastatingly blue-green eyes of Corey Jackson. The very same
man my seventy-five-year-old great-aunt was ogling on the TV earlier. And, okay.
I get it. I totally get it. His dark hair curls over his ears, and his bright
eyes are sparkling with the same smile that’s twitching at his lips. And he has
that jaw—you know, the kind of jaw that makes you want to rub your fingers over
it repeatedly? Yeah, that jaw.
He’s hot. The, er,
tequila said so.
Smart, that
tequila.
“Is that right?” I
reply.
“Sure is.” The
twitch of his lips morphs into a slow, sexy smile.
“I hate to remind
you, but this is California.”
“Oh, I know
exactly where we are. Where else am I going to be lucky enough to buy a drink
for a girl like you?”
“Are you hitting
on me?”
He rests his elbow
on the bar in front of me and hands the bartender forty dollars between his
fingers. “Does it sound like I am?”
“Is it supposed
to? Because I’m sure Corey Jackson, L.A. Vipers golden boy, can find a thousand
girls like me just by turning around.” I nod my head over his shoulder. “Oh,
look. I just found you a bunch of them.”
Seriously, half
the girls in this bar are in fan-girl mode. Or panty-dropping mode. I think
they’re synonymous where he’s concerned.
He takes his
change from the bartender, his smirk turning cocky. “Finally, a girl who
recognizes me for more than what is under my shirt. Is this my lucky night?”
“If this is a lucky night, clearly
California isn’t doing much for you.” I throw the tequila shot back.
Author Bio:
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies - usually wine - and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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