Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Steamy Sports Romance | Giveaway | ARC Opportunity

Sports romances have always been my jam--whether its reading or writing them, I cannot get enough. Take a Chance on Me is a steamy, friends-to-lovers sports romance that all stemmed from a hike I took in Phoenix. It was a couple years ago, but I was hiking with some family and saw a couple. They could've been close friends, or together, but they were both super in shape, beautiful, and seemed to move together. He would keep a hand on her during the harder parts, and she'd laugh and joke around with him. Were they best friends? Childhood friends? Married? Just gotten together?  I couldn't stop thinking about it. My first draft of this story actually had the two main characters hiking and encountering a rattlesnake (I live in Arizona, that can actually happen) and being goofy, lifelong friends who laughed when one fell down. The idea got scratched but the concept of Kate and Brody officially began.

That's how Kate and Brody came to be: two friends who grew up together, knew everything about each other (the good and the bad), and were stuck living together for three months. They both had their own issues that prevented them from ever ruining their friendship. That meant never crossing "that line." But one drunken game of strip poker, long, hot summer nights, and a lifetime of chemistry brewing, Brody has to convince Kate to give him a chance. He's a hotshot new NFL recruit and a notorious player, while she's a relationship-type girl fighting for a chance at her dream job. The chances are slim and it'll be hard, but a lifetime of love should be worth it.

Read an excerpt from their first night living together: 


I knew what a therapist would tell me—that I used sex and exercise as a way to cope with something I would never get over. I already knew that. I didn’t need to waste time going to talk to somebody about my issues. Not when the women were willing and more into it than I was. I wasn’t a goddamn idiot. I knew why women slept with me, and I didn’t care. If they wanted to say they’d slept with me before I made it big, then sign me up. It was easier than thinking... No. I preferred not to think about the past. Honestly, I preferred not having feelings. And most days, I didn’t.

My life had two purposes: protecting my mom and Kate, and football. Everything else was just details.

I showered and felt an inkling of regret when I found Kate setting up her room without her normal energy. She’d always been one of those annoyingly happy people. She smiled too big, too often. And she was a ray of sunshine. And that sunshine was dimmed. Because of my issues.

I was more of a storm cloud, and I owed her an apology. I knocked on the door frame, getting her attention. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Would you like a tour?” She pointed to the closet with her middle finger. Subtle, Kate. Real subtle. “This is the closet. I hung up my five outfits. This is my bed.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. “Looks nice.”

“Shut up, Grody.” She blasted the music louder, some pop band I’d heard on the radio. She went about emptying her suitcase and eyed me. “Can I help you...or you just going to stand there like a creeper?”

“I came to apologize.” I squeezed the back of my neck. Finding it hard to say sorry was in my blood. I didn’t think I had ever heard my mom use those words in my life. Kate didn’t help the situation. Her mouth fell open, and her pale-blue eyes widened as she dropped everything in her hand.

“Color me shocked. You have my full attention.” She perched on the edge of the bed, the trace of a smile on her lips. The little shit’s enjoying this.

“I shouldn’t have been a dick about Brenden. I still can’t talk about it.” I joined her on the bed, and she put a hand on my shoulder. Her tiny hand barely registered when she squeezed me, but the thought was nice. “Would be real shitty of me to have our first night as roomies fighting.”

“We aren’t fighting. I don’t think it’s healthy you can’t talk about somebody we both loved. But I won’t push it.”

“So, we’re good?” I gave her a hopeful smile.

“Yes, Brody. I’m not going to throw away sixteen years of friendship over a small, albeit real, case of you being an asshole.” She patted my shoulder one more time and stood. “Now, get out. I need to shower the plane off me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I headed toward the living room. It had a small desk where I spent zero time. Maybe Kate would use it. Itching to head to Natalie’s, I busied myself with work-out plans.

Four hours a day. Stretching and yoga. Core and muscle building. I loved the hell out of working out, but it worried me. Could I handle it? The fear of not making the fifty-three-man roster in August terrified me. I didn’t know what happened after. I never thought about it. My agent gave me two things to work on this summer before training.

Work out as much as you can to build stamina. The training camp broke some of the strongest men.
Befriend the players when working out. It’d shocked me when he’d said it was like any other job. That who I knew and got along with played a role. It was easier to cut a draft pick if they were a party of one. It was a hell of a lot more difficult when they had a team around them, a bond.

I had gone to the gym almost every day since being drafted in late April, but I had yet to meet any of the veterans. I had to try harder. It was already June. Lost as I was in thoughts of how to be more goddamn friendly, Kate’s voice broke my focus.

“Grody, sorry to be a pain. But do you have food here, or should I go pick up something?”

I lifted my head from my half-assed notes and pointed at her Cubs shirt. “Wrong team, blondie. How you going to convince your new place of work you’re a fan?”

“I am a fan of baseball. I appreciate the beauty and romance of the sport. I also realized I have zero Diablos shirts. It’s on my list to buy some tomorrow.”

“Good call.” I stretched. “I think I have some food. I can cook us some dinner?”

“Yes!” She did a weird-ass victory dance. “I totally forgot you could cook. I just got a hell of a lot more excited about living here.”

“Yeah...we all know what happens when you get in front of a stove. I’m surprised you’re not the size of a balloon. All you eat is takeout.” I tugged the end of her hair when I walked by her. She smacked my hand away.

“Rude. And true.” She followed me and perched at the high-top table I’d recently purchased. I didn’t give two shits about furniture, but it did tie the kitchen together. “I run a lot.”

“Be careful if you go in the heat. Bring water and let me know before you leave.” I raised my voice. “I’m not being overbearing. People underestimate the heat—”

“Brody, I grew up here.”

“And you’ve lived away for a while.”

She sighed, but her blue eyes crinkled at the sides.

I cooked us a simple protein-filled dinner and fought a laugh the entire time we ate. She shoveled food into her mouth, groaning into the seasoned chicken breast. She’d been known as “the disposal” growing up, with how she devoured food, and it fit. She caught me staring at her and raised an eyebrow. “You eat with so much enthusiasm.”

“That was the nicest way to say I don’t eat like a lady.” She smiled, a little food on her mouth. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. Forgive me for forgoing manners. Oh, and I’ve seen you lick someone else’s toothbrush as a prank.”

“Shit.” I let out a ragged laugh. “Eddy, right?”

“Yup. He deserved it, but you can’t make fun of me for ‘eating with enthusiasm’ when you’ve done weirder things.” She took another bite, crossing her eyes.

“Fair enough.” I slid the key I had for her across the table. She nodded at me but otherwise gave it no attention, food her only priority. I ate in record time. Family dinners growing up had been on the go between sporting events—I’d learned to eat a full meal in ten minutes. “You’re on clean-up duty.”
“I figured as much.” She leaned back and patted her stomach. “Best part about this is you only eat healthy shit. My body and I thank you.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Glad to help. I have some work to do before I head out later. You need anything?”

“Nope. I have a ton of shit to do too. Thanks for dinner.” She smiled, the warmth in her eyes coming from years of comfort between us.

I spent the rest of the night emailing my agent and learning the names of the other guys on the team. It was the first step. At twenty minutes to nine, I couldn’t wait to release the tension that had built up all day. Kate remained at the desk, notes and pens and papers all around her.

“I’m heading out. You good here?”

“Oh, I’m good. You go enjoy yourself.” She shuffled some of those papers. “Use protection, my friend.”

“I might be going to get ice cream. You don’t know,” I stupidly replied. She wasn’t an idiot; I cringed.

“You’ll get cream all right, that’s for sure.”

I burst out laughing.
Same old Kate. Same old humor. “Bye, KZ.”

“Don’t wake me up when you stumble back with your walk of shame.”

I chuckled, locking the door behind me. She was always so damn chill about my hookups. This could end up being a hell of a summer. I just wished my dates were as easy to hang out with as Kate. 

WANT TO WIN A FREE COPY OF TAKE A CHANCE ON ME? Just comment with your insta-buy, favorite trope and I'll select a winner in two days! 

Interested in purchasing it? You can get it at the following locations:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo 

Interested in receiving a free copy of an e-book in exchange for leaving an honest review? I'm looking for readers who love sports romances (or college romances) to review my upcoming release, The Game Changer.  If interested, please fill out this form. 

The blurb:

Pretending to date your best friend is always a good idea…right? Wrong.

Greta Aske has a lot on her mind, and a string of bad dates has her giving up on men, at least for the time being. Her life contains a little too much drama, meaning she needs a break and to save money and get good grades. The perfect solution presents itself—pretend to date the campus playboy. That’ll keep the guys away for sure.

Aaron Hill is desperate to save his baseball career because, with his dad fighting cancer, he damn well knows he can’t ask for a single penny from his parents. Baseball is his past, present and future, so when a scandal threatens his chance in the MLB, he turns to his best friend for help. A fake relationship will keep him out of trouble. It’s perfect, really. Greta’s taking a break from dating and Aaron needs to focus on training.

Nothing could go wrong…as long as neither falls for the other. But when lines are crossed, what’s real and fake blurs and the two are forced to face their fears. Could Greta be the game changer Aaron needs?

1 comment:

Tina Donahue said...

Congrats on your latest release, Jacqueline! I love sports romances too. Yours sounds wonderful. :)