Get Caught: Book Blitz

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quinn demands, pulling herself up to her full height. Maybe that shit works on her brother, but I spent the afternoon staring down guys three times her size. “Are you drunk?”
“No.” I point to her half-empty cup. “But if you finish that drink, you will be.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong with my drink?”
Is she for real?
“Other than the fact that it’s got five kinds of liquor in it?”
“Five? Really?” She lifts the cup up and stares at it like she’s seeing it for the first time. “Huh. Who’d have guessed?”
“Why do you think it’s called Adiós, Motherfucker? It’s meant to get you shitfaced.” She giggles, probably at the name, and I scrub a hand over my face. “If you don’t know what’s in it, why are you drinking it?”
She cocks a hip. “Mike bought it for me.”
Of course he did. “The asshole was probably trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”
“Maybe I was trying to get him drunk and take advantage of him,” she says, poking me in the chest. Heat radiates from the spot where her finger landed, which is ridiculous because it wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact. Probably just leftover energy from the game. She pokes me again. “Did you ever think of that?”
“No.” It’s bullshit, but I’m not trying to picture Quinn seducing some random creeper at a bar. “It did, however, occur to me he might’ve slipped something in your drink.”
Quinn rolls those big green eyes. “I’m a virgin, not a moron. I took the drink directly from the bartender.”
Thank Christ.
Relief surges through my veins. How the fuck does Noah deal with having his little sister on campus? On Greek Row?
For the first time in my life, I’m glad to be an only child. If I saw some dude playing grab-ass with my sister, I’d break his fucking hands.
Quinn’s not your sister, so what do you care?

We are what? Book Blitz

We are what? Book Blitz

I never really thought I’d be that person—the one who switches school after a year because they’ve changed their whole career path. It’s not as if the change is because some big scandal went down. There was no sordid affair with a teacher, no cheating on a test, not even the slightest hint of any wrongdoing. The plain fact is, I quickly discovered the major I was studying was not for me. It took a while for realization to set in. I thought my plans were set in stone since ninth grade. Graduate from college with a summa cum laude, become a successful defense attorney defending high-profile cases in the state, get married and have kids. Now my direction has changed, and a high-flying defense attorney has been replaced with a nutritionist and dietician.
There is another reason for this change; one I haven’t admitted to anyone. I feel like I’m stuck. I’m floating around in no man’s land with a future I’m not sure I want anymore. The trouble with having a life plan from an early age is the risk of growing out of it. It seemed like a good idea when I was fifteen and obsessed with crime dramas. It’s only when you start hitting the books and going to lecture upon lecture you realize it’s not as glamorous as it seems. I quickly discovered the legal profession is not for me.
So here I am, leaving my hometown of Silver Lake and moving three hours south, where I’ll attend the University of Northport for the next three years. The Health Sciences department at Northport is one of the best in our state, which is the reason I’m transferring there. My career choice may have changed, but my ambitions for graduating summa cum laude remain the same. It helps that my older brother, Jude, goes there. Thankfully, I get to share a house with him and some of his teammates. Jude is on Northport’s ice hockey team, and if he wanted to, he could easily be drafted to the NHL. At the moment, though, he’s set on graduating and “conquering the world,” his words, not mine.

Hit Hard: Book Blitz

Hit Hard: Book Blitz

I put all my strength into my next forehand. The ball torpedoed over the net, not even bothering to bounce within the court. Nope, that sucker was headed for the fences. If this was baseball, it’d be time to break out the peanuts and Cracker Jack.

Too bad this wasn’t baseball.


A figure in the distance went down, knees to the court. A crowd of students suddenly appeared, gasping and rushing over.

“You hit him!” someone shrieked.

My breath lodged in my throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I jogged over, terrified to breathe until I knew my accidental victim was okay.

Caleb directed a dirty scowl at me. “You really are the worst, Maxwell.”

I angled to see the fallen student. “I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, Maisie.” Nia mumbled, now beside me.

“I’m okay,” the guy on the ground said, attempting to stand despite the crowd. His head emerged, sun-bleached brown hair unkempt and curling over a tanned forehead. That perfectly shaggy hair some guys could get away with. He wasn’t a returning student. The face turning toward me could easily belong on a clothing website, the kind with ninety-dollar T-shirts with holes in them for a distressed look. Basically, he was very attractive.

A swath of blood streaked across that very attractive face.

That part was definitely my fault.

Sorry floated across my tongue, but my lips couldn’t form the word under the pressure of so many glaring classmates. Any hope of being an admired senior this year shriveled and burned like a tissue set aflame.

He accepted a clean towel and pressed it to his nose. “I expected I might not be welcome here, but your forehand really confirmed it.”

“Way to go, Maxwell,” Caleb said with a sneer. “You just nailed Shane Wagner in the face.”

Oh. Wait, what? “You’re … you’re—”

“Shane Wagner,” the bloody-faced model boy said through the towel.

Shane Wagner. The Shane Wagner. I just nailed the face of the number one-seeded player in junior boys’ tennis.


When Last comes First: Book Blitz

The thought reverberated around Willow’s head alongside the trance beat. Her trance beat. Eden Jade—better known by her DJ name, Bunny Descent, stood behind the decks on stage, one hand raised. The lights turned her white-blonde hair to pink and her ripped wedding dress was spattered neon by the leaking glow-sticks her fans were waving.
Her perfect face was screwed in concentration as she fiddled with something on the decks. The music transitioned from a hard, pulsing beat to something Willow recognised—‘Self Care’ by Mac Miller. The crowd cheered, more people rushing toward the stage, hands raised. It was three in the morning and the tiny dance floor was thrumming.
Willow had expected the crowd to thin as the night wore on, but the opposite happened. Bunny Descent was the seventh DJ of the night, and the audience was more hyped for her than anyone else. Watching the crowd dance, he felt a surge of pride. From what he’d read in interviews, Eden was scared of not breaking through, worried her sound was too erratic for main stages. But there was no way the woman in front of him wasn’t making it big. She oozed glamour and with each and every song, he grew more amazed she wasn’t famous.
“She is a goddess,” a guy slurred in his ear. “I, like, actually fuckin’ love her.”
Willow turned and saw the guy was talking to his equally fucked up mate, but that didn’t change the fact he was vocalising his own thoughts about Eden.
I’m different, he told himself.
I just am.
That had always been the only reason he needed. People called him overconfident, but that implied he tried to be confident. He didn’t. He was just lucky. He got what he wanted.
As the music surged higher, Willow danced along with the crowd, working his weight from foot to foot. A few girls smiled, looking for someone to kiss—or maybe because they recognised him, but he only had eyes for Eden. On stage she leant forward, touching the hands of the people dancing in front of her. The second she made contact, the crowd screamed fit to burst the roof. Willow knew exactly how they felt.
He’d been scoping her Instagram for ages, but there was nothing like seeing her in real life. With her long blonde hair and big eyes, she looked like Sailor Moon—his first and most powerful crush. He watched as Eden put her hands behind her head and shook, her tits bouncing in her wedding dress. Attraction burred through him like an electric current. He’d never been so into anyone. Even Sailor Moon. What could that be but true love? As he watched her dance, he made himself a promise—come hell or high water, he’d talk to her tonight.
A hard elbow bashed his side.
“Oi,” Derek shouted over the music. “What are we still doing here? Everyone’s out of their minds.”
Willow danced away from his friend. “I dunno. I’m not tired.”
“You’re never fucking tired. Where’s the patient?”
Willow glanced around. Patrick Normal, better known as Psycho, was swaying softly beside the bar, apparently having forgotten he wanted a beer. “Psycho’s… having a time.”
Derek followed his gaze. “Fuck me, he’s maggoted.”
“Yeah, he’ll be up for hours. Better we’re still out with him, hey?”
“This is all your fault. If Mara was in town, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve made it clear you’ll be dogging the boys from now on, Hardo.”
The track Eden was playing bled into a remix of that Rasputin, love machine song. The dancers packed around the stage, jumping so hard the floor shook. Eden swished her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and his cock throbbed. He could see her doing that while she rode him—looking down her nose as he worked to make her come.
His side burst with pain. He rubbed it, glaring at Derek. “What’s your problem?”
“You. You’re making gorilla noises.”
“You could hear that?”
“Of course, I…” A look of barely concealed terror dawned on Derek’s face. A look Willow knew all too well. He backed away in case Derek decided to put him in a headlock. “What have I done now?”
Derek pointed at the stage. “Please tell me we’re not here because you want to fuck that DJ?”
Willow gave him a winning smile. “Do you want a drink?”
“I wanna know if you dragged me all the way to the city to watch you fail to pick up a DJ.”


Dropped It: Book Blitz

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. She was quick enough to turn off the voice recording and hold her phone in her lap.
I arched an eyebrow at her. “I know when someone is faking it.”
“Happen often?” she quipped. Her eyes snapped with something that hadn’t been there before; anger. No, maybe it was there and I hadn’t wanted to see it.
I smiled. A real smile. She wasn’t the only one putting on an act. Frankly, it felt good to drop it.
“Only out in public,” I replied with confidence. “In private, it’s always real, and satisfying.”
I expected her to blush, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave me an epic eye roll. Yeah, I guess I deserved that.
“Sure,” she said sarcastically. She crossed her legs at her knees.
I stared, I admit it, but she had longer legs than I remember, and bigger breasts. Were they real? I tried to get a good look when she entered the room, but I couldn’t tell.
I shook my head to clear it. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you pretend you didn’t know me?”
“Why did you?” she shot back. “I had no reason to believe you did. It was a long time ago.”
It was. And it wasn’t. The fuzzy memories of high school came back in a rush and almost knocked the wind out of me. I lowered my arms and gripped the sides of the chair beside my thighs.
I lowered my face and closed my eyes for a few moments.
“Yeah, it was.” I looked back up at her. Her green eyes watched me intently. Had they always been that color? They weren’t contacts, or she wouldn’t be wearing glasses too. I guess they were then. My mother used to have a jade statue almost that exact shade. Where was that statue now? I had no idea. Maybe Dad threw it out after…
Before I could say another word, she spoke.
“Why do you think I did it?” She gave me a challenging look through her long lashes.
I hissed in a silent breath through my teeth. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you thought I would open up more if you acted like a groupie.”
She snorted. Now there was the Beckie I knew.
I rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and hid a smile by rubbing my upper lip, just under my nose. I could use a shave.
“If you were actually Hawkeye, it might not be an act,” she said.
I couldn’t hold back a grin now. “I can’t believe you actually pretended not to know who the Hulk was.”
She responded with a smirk. “I can’t believe you think you have his physique.”
Touché. “It sounds like you’re the green one,” I retorted. I puffed out my chest. It didn’t hurt to remind her how fit I was. It took a lot of work to get to this point and I was proud of it. The fact women seemed to like it was a bonus.
She barked a laugh. “Hardly.”
I shrugged with one shoulder. “At least I didn’t compare myself to Thor.” I only did that in the mirror.
“Not in public,” she said, shooting my words back at me. “What about in private?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She seemed bitter about something, but I enjoyed the banter. Other than Mary, few women were so real. Once Becca stopped being fake, that was.
“Not if you were the last guy on Earth,” she replied.

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