Coming from Emma Hart we have a sexy new contemporary series, By His Game, and its first sizzling installment, Blindsided, is coming on the 12th! I’m honored and excited to share the first glimpse into the novel with the entire first chapter below! Plus, make sure to enter to win a signed copy of the book at the end of this post!
โฆ Pre-order on Amazonย โฆ
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 allโฆ
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 Hollywoodโs sweetheart, Leah Veronica canโt even buy a coffee without finding her face on a magazine stand, so itโs no wonder sheโs 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. Vipersโ quarterback was inevitable for Corey Jackson. So was meeting Leah Veronicaโthe 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 Leahโsโat 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 Hollywoodโs 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 theyโve been blindsided by love or reality, and if itโs worth running the extra yard to win the game they never meant to play.
Leah
โRun, dammit. Run!โ I glance up from my drawing pad. โGo ahead, fumble it. Why wouldnโt you?โ I lean back against the sofa. โAnd this is supposed to be good preseason form. Good, my ass!โ
โLeah? Why are you shouting? Are we being attacked?โ
I look over at my elderly aunt as she enters the front room, her cane clicking against the floor with each step. โNo. Itโs just the football. Thatโs all.โ
โItโs the what? The wall?โ
โFootball,โ I repeat, my eyes following the play on screen. โAre you wearing your hearing aid?โ
โOh!โ She slides her hand into her pocket and removes the tiny device. โThere,โ she says as she fits it.
โIs it turned on?โ
She fiddles with it. โIt is now.โ
I shoot her a fond smile. โOh, go! Go!โ I point my pencil at the screen. โRun, you uselessโโ
My mom interrupts me. โShouldnโt you be working?โ My mom interrupts me.
โUm, I am. Kind of.โ I wave my pencil lamely in her direction and keep my eyes on the game.
She leans against the doorframe to remove her shoes. โI still donโt understand how you love football so much.โ She sets them in the hallway then enters the front room.
โButts,โ Aunt Ada answers her. โItโs the butts, am I right, Lele?โ
โYeah, thatโs it. I watch hours upon hours of football because of their butts. Hey!โ
Mom waves the remote. โYou have to get those designs submitted before Quinn sends you all your Fashion Week designs to finalize.โ
โI know.โ I swallow the bitterness that rises at the mention of New York Fashion Week. โIt still sucks that I have to miss it.โ
โYou could be honest.โ
โNo.โ I fill in some detail on the shirt on my pad. โI told you before. I want to be successful for my work, not because my mom is Hollywoodโs sweetheart.โ
โAnd I respect that, honey, but you should be there for your show.โ
โAre they winning?โ Aunt Ada butts in, perching on the sofa next to me. โWhat colors are they in?โ
โRed and black, andโโI glance upโโyes, theyโre winning. Only just.โ
โOooh, whoโs that?โ
โWhoโs who?โ
โThat!โ
โCorey Jackson,โ Mom answers. โHeโs the Vipersโ quarterback.โ
โHeโs a handsome young man, isnโt he?โ
โAunt Ada!โ I snap my head up. โAre you seriously crushing on him? Donโt you have bingo or something to go to?โ
She cackles. โNot tonight, dear. Where can I find him?โ
โOh my God!โ I smack the pencil down and look at her. โYou are not going cougar on me!โ
Mom laughs. โHeโll be at the premiere tomorrow night. Itโs a shame your bingo will interfere with that, Aunt Ada.โ
โWhat? Since when?โ I look at Mom.
โSince the invitations were sent out.โ She fixes her blue eyes on me. โHave you listened to anything Iโve told you about the premiere?โ
No. โI, erโฆ Not exactly.โ
โLeah!โ
โWhat? Iโve been real busy. Plus, I am not interested in being asked when my big acting debut is going to be. If I have to tell everyone one more time that there isnโt going to be one, someoneโs gonna get hurt.โ I raise my eyebrows and go back to my design.
Mom sighs, but itโs obviously fake. โYou know the drill. Turn up, humor them, watch the movie, hang around for an hour. Then you can escape out of the back door.โ
โLetโs swap,โ Aunt Ada announces loudly. โIโll go in your place, Lele. You can stay here and work.โ
My eyes follow her line of sight to where Corey Jackson has a close-up on TV. โI hate to tell you this, but he puts out more than your friends on trash day.โ
โHeโs a young, handsome man. They all do.โ
โWhat do you know about young, handsome men?โ Mom scoffs, walking into the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pours herself a glass of white wine.
โI was young once, Grace. And I knew a lot of young, handsome men.โ
โWhoa! Okay. TMI!โ I shudder. โLetโs move on. Crap. Whatโs the time?โ
Mom looks at her watch. โSix oโclock. Why?โ
Dammit, I forgot to eat again. And dammit, I have to get dressed. I sigh. โMacey and Ryann are dragging me out for my birthday.โ
โRemind Ryann that she has an audition tomorrow,โ Mom says as I shut my sketchpad and get up.
โSure.โ I tuck it under my arm and head for the stairs.
โLeah?โ
โYes, Mom?โ
โDid you eat dinner?โ
โYes, Mom!โ
โAre you lying to me, young lady?โ
โYoung lady? Iโm twenty-two!โ I holler down. โAnd no, Mom!โ
โLeah!โ
I twist my bedroom door lock shut then dart into the bathroom. Reaching into the shower and turning the knob, I yell, โWhat was that? Sorry, the showerโs on!โ
โLeah!โ
Iโm so not getting away with that.
***
โMy feet are killing me,โ I groan, leaning against the bar. โThis is why I donโt wear heels!โ
โNah, youโre fine. You just need another drink.โ 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. โThree tequila shots please.โ
โAw, shit,โ Macey mutters. โNot tequila. Anything but the devil drink! That should only be drunk in the safety of my apartment.โ
I hold the tiny glass in front of my face. โItโll stop my feet hurting. I donโt give a shit.โ
โIโll remind you that you said that when you call me tomorrow with a hangover.โ
โI promise Iโll drink some water before I go to bed. My mom will kill me if Iโm hungover tomorrow.โ I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back. โHoly shit.โ The tequila lights a fiery trail from my throat to my stomach. โAnother.โ
Ryann smirks and throws my words back at me. โYour mom will kill you if you have a hangover tomorrow.โ Ryann smirks and throws my words back at me.
โFuck off.โ I click my tongue. โItโs my birthday, which, by the way, Iโve spent working and watching my half-assed football team almost throw a game. If I say another tequila, I want another tequila.โ
โOkay.โ Ryann shrugs, waving the bartender over again. โThree more, and three margaritas.โ
He nods and fixes the drinks. A few minutes later, they appear in front of us, and I grab my purse.
โThis is my round.โ
โHell no!โ Macey cries. โItโs illegal to buy your own drinks on your birthday.โ
โButโโ
โSheโs right,โ a smooth voice with a hint of a Texas accent says from behind me. โAt least it is in Texas.โ
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 thatโs twitching at his lips. And he has that jawโyou know, the kind of jaw that makes you want to rub your fingers over it repeatedly? Yeah, that jaw.
Heโs hot. The, er, tequila said so.
Smart, that tequila.
โIs that right?โ I reply.
โSure is.โ The twitch of his lips morphs into a slow, sexy smile.
โI hate to remind you, but this is California.โ
โOh, I know exactly where we are. Where else am I going to be lucky enough to buy a drink for a girl like you?โ
โAre you hitting on me?โ
He rests his elbow on the bar in front of me and hands the bartender forty dollars between his fingers. โDoes it sound like I am?โ
โIs it supposed to? Because Iโm sure Corey Jackson, L.A. Vipers golden boy, can find a thousand girls like me just by turning around.โ I nod my head over his shoulder. โOh, look. I just found you a bunch of them.โ
Seriously, half the girls in this bar are in fan-girl mode. Or panty-dropping mode. I think theyโre synonymous where heโs concerned.
He takes his change from the bartender, his smirk turning cocky. โFinally, a girl who recognizes me for more than what is under my shirt. Is this my lucky night?โ
โIf this is a lucky night, clearly California isnโt doing much for you.โ I throw the tequila shot back.
โYou could always tell me your name.โ He puts a hand on the back of my chair, leaning toward me.
โGod, I just I love it when guys act like they have no idea who I am. Itโs so cute.โ
โAll right.โ He holds his hands up briefly. โYou got me, Leah Veronica. Iโd recognize you a mile away.โ
โIโm flattered.โ
His eyes donโt move from mine. โItโs a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.โ
โReally? Youโre trying that one?โ I raise my eyebrows. โIt hasnโt worked on me since I was fifteen. Nice try though, cowboy.โ
He laughs a deep, chesty rumble that makes my skin tingle. โYouโre hard work, you know that, Leah?โ
I seal my lips around my straw and have a sip. โHave you ever met my mom? Iโm afraid itโs a Veronica thing.โ
His eyes rove over my face, taking in every detail from my blond hair to my glossy, pink lips. โI have, yes, and I fully believe you. Do you always make it this hard for guys to pick you up?โ
โNo.โ I meet his eyes once again and twist my lips in amusement. โIโm only this much of a pain when the guy is overly certain he can.โ
โTouchรฉ.โ He moves in a little closer. โHow about we make a deal?โ
โIf you leave me alone, I promise not to yell at you next time you throw an interception?โ
โThereโs definitely something to be said about you shouting my name,โ he murmurs in a husky voice, โbut no. Thatโs not it.โ
โHit me. Hopefully you have better aim now than you did earlier tonight.โ
He smirks. โIf you give me your number, Iโll leave you alone. For now.โ
โHereโs a better idea.โ I curl my fingers around his collar and stand, bringing my face closer to his. โYou realize Iโm not interested and let me enjoy the rest of my birthday in peace.โ
โAre you askinโ or tellinโ me?โ
That drawl tingles across my skin, but I hold my ground. โIโm telling you.โ
He covers my hand with his and pulls my fingers from his shirt. โYou can enjoy your birthday all you like, Leah, but I donโt believe you when you say youโre not interested.โ
I snatch my hand from his grip. โWhat do girls see in you?โ
โThe money, the name, the bodyโฆโ
โFigures. It sure isnโt your charming personality.โ
He winks. He fucking winks. โHappy birthday, Leah,โ he says smoothly as he walks backward.
I shake my head and turn away. How does that guy get laid? Oh, yeahโthatโll be the sexy smile and smooth lines that work only on desperate fan-girls.
โWas thatโฆCorey Jackson? The Corey Jackson?โ Macey puts her hand on her chest.
โThe Corey Jackson?โ I snort. โWhat is he, a football legend?โ
โHe plays football?โ She blinks at me.
โHow the hell are we even friends?โ
Ryann laughs. โDamn. Heโs hot.โ She licks her lips.
โHeโs also the biggest serial dater in the league. In fact, Iโm sure his dates are more like casual fucks. So yes, heโs hotโโ
โVery hot.โ
โVery hot,โ I correct myself, my eyes flicking to the back of his head across the bar. โBut heโs a total jackass.โ
Apparently my eyes linger on Corey too long, because he turns, his own blazing bright. I blink slowly. Iโve never felt anyoneโs gaze so intensely. His eyes are clouded with determination, a lusty heat flaring in their depths. His gaze tingles through my body the way his accent just did. I feel it right down to the tips of my toes.
How on Earth is he making me feel like Iโm half naked in this bar full of people?
Macey continues. โYou should have given him your number. That would have been cool.โ
โThis is Los Angeles,โ Ryann butts in. โItโs not exactly a huge deal if some hot, rich guy has your number.โ
โPrecisely,โ I mutter.
โBut heโs not just some rich guy!โ Macey argues. โHeโs Corey Jackson. The Corey Jackson.โ
โYou didnโt even know heโs a football player until two minutes ago!โ Ryann cries in disbelief.
โMace, why donโt you go and get his number?โ I ask snarkily. โIโm not interested in him. Got it?โ I turn to the bar and wave my glass. โIโll have another.โ
I dig out a ten-dollar bill when bar guy brings it back, but he shakes his head.
โMr. Jackson said all your drinks are on his tab tonight.โ
My eyes crawl along the bar to the corner table where heโs sitting with two of his teammates. Corey raises his glass in my direction, and I purse my lips.
โWell, you tell Mr. Jackson thank you very much,โ I tell him. Bar guy makes to move, but I lean over the bar, grabbing his arm, my eyes still on Corey. โBut I am perfectly capable of purchasing my own drinks, his supposed Texas laws be damned.โ
I slap my money in his hand, grab my drink, and turn without another word.
***
โI am not hungover.โ
Aunt Ada turns just as I slide onto the stool and bury my face in my arms. โYouโre not a bunger?โ She frowns. โWhatever is a bunger?โ
I open my eyes long enough to give her my best unimpressed look. โNever mind,โ I mumble into my sleeve. โWater?โ
โHorter? Youโre making no sense, dear.โ
โUghhhh,โ I groan. โWater. Wor-ter.โ
โYouโd like some water?โ
โYes. Please!โ
โWell, you should have said that!โ
I flick my eyes open once more then give up. Oh, tequila, you bitch. You utter bitch. Why did I let myself have more than five shots? Why did I let myself have anything at all?
โGrace is going to kill you,โ Aunt Ada informs me, setting a glass of water and two pills in front of me.
โSshhh. Donโt say her name. You might summon her.โ
โSummon who?โ
I sit up straight, wincing at the pounding in my head. Ah, shit. โMary Poppins,โ I tell Mom, discreetly slipping the pills into my mouth and swallowing them with a drink.
โSmartass,โ she retorts, turning and studying me. โDid you have a good time last night?โ
โI did.โ
โDid anythingโฆinteresting happen?โ
โMacey went home alone.โ
Aunt Ada sniggers and places some French toast in front of me.
Momโs lips quirk into a smile despite her fight to remain stony-faced. โIโm certain thatโs more surprising than it is interesting. No, Leah. I meant with you.โ
I shake my head slowly, chewing. โNo. Iโm boring.โ
Her smile grows a little more, and she hands me the rolled-up magazine from under her arm. I frown and take it from her.
โYou have it already?โ
โSasha dropped it by earlier.โ She waves her hand dismissively.
Right. I went out last night. Of course her assistant was up at the ass crack of dawn to get the tabloids.
โOh! Is that Corey Jackson?โ
โWhat?โ I shriek in response to Aunt Adaโs question and flip the magazine around.
Sure as hell, there we areโfront page. The image shows him leaning down as Iโm looking up. We look like weโre about to kiss. Oh holy mothercrapper.
โSomething to tell me, honey? Do you have a date for tonight?โ
I look at Mom, my jaw dropping. โNo, I donโt! Oh my God. Is this for real?โ
โIs he more handsome in real life?โ Aunt Ada asks.
I ignore her. โNothing happened. I swear. He is the last thing I need when Iโm about to launch Lea V.!โ
Momโs smile drops, sadness hinting her eyes. โI know, honey, but youโre allowed to have a little fun.โ
I blink at her quickly. โOkay, so Iโm taking fun as ha-ha-giggle fun and not the oh-oh-sexy fun, because Iโm pretty sure you are not supposed to tell me to do that.โ
โIโd have fun with him if I were twenโforty years younger. Actually, twenty, too.โ
โAunt Ada! God!โ I gasp, looking at her. โYou canโt say things like that around me. Youโre gonna scar me for life.โ
โChar you for life? No, Lele. Iโm not cooking you.โ
โCan you please get her that damn hearing aid? And maybe a gag?โ I rip some French toast off with my fingers and shove it in my mouth. How is a girl supposed to keep any sanity around here? โOh, I have a headache.โ
โHmmm.โ Mom sweeps past me, hitting me with a suspicious glance, and stops in front of Aunt Ada. She bends, fits the aid in Adaโs ear, then stands. โIs that better?โ
โLovely.โ Aunt Ada turns and hands her a plate of French toast, too. But she gets a kiss.
โHey, why didnโt I get a kiss on the cheek?โ
โYou refuse to tell me if Mr. Jackson is hotter in real life than he is on TV.โ
Iโm a little alarmed at the level of her obsession with him. โYes, heโs hotter in real life, Aunt Ada. There. Are you happy?โ
โWill you bring him for dinner? Iโll make lasagna.โ
โWeโre, er, not exactly dinner buddies.โ
She looks at the front cover of the magazine pointedly. I snatch it from the table and dump it on the floor.
Mom rolls her eyes, grabs the magazine from the floor, and drops it back in front of me. โLeah? You need to go and shower. The stylists are here in an hour.โ She tugs on a lock of my hair before grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the door. โAnd Ada? Iโll be sure to extend your dinner invitation to Corey this evening.โ
Fantastic. Letโs encourage the crazy old bat. Thatโs exactly what the world needs.
โฆย Read Chapter 2 tomorrow at Schmexy Girl Book Blogย โฆ
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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belinda said:
Thanks for the chance!