TITLE: Crashing the Crease
SERIES: Seduced by the Game – Cancer Charity Collection
AUTHOR: V.L. Locey
COVER ARTIST: Fiona Jade
LENGTH: 85 Pages
RELEASE DATE: November 18, 2015
BLURB: Isaac Spencer met J.D. Bazin for the first time during game one of the collegiate championship in Isaac`s junior year. The meeting did not go well. Bazin, a power forward for the opposing team, crashed Isaac`s net, taking the goalie out of the play and out of the series with a knee injury that nearly ended Isaac`s career.
Angry words flew back and forth between the players involved as well as the coaches, colleges, press, and fans. After a grueling summer filled with surgery and rehab, Isaac fought his way back. After graduating, the Baltimore Badgers drafted Isaac. The Badgers also drafted J. D. Bazin, much to Isaac`s dismay.
Isaac not only has to fight his disdain of the man who nearly ruined his career, he also has to battle the growing feelings that bubble up whenever J. D. is near. Is it possible to forgive and forget or will animosity over the past be too much for either man to absolve?
All proceeds from the sale of Crashing the Crease will be donated to the author’s favorite team’s cancer charity organization.
I woke up slowly, my eyes peeling open to the sound of someone dousing the fire. Tossing my blanket off my head, I rolled to my back. There stood J.D., dick in his hand, pissing into the smoking embers of last night’s fire.
“Dude, really?” I kicked free of my coverings and stood up.
“Smokey Bear says only you can prevent forest fires,” Bazin threw over his shoulder. “And don’t pretend you didn’t like waking up to find my dick first and foremost in your vision.”
“You think way too highly of yourself,” I countered as I walked into the woods. Bazin may have no compunction about whipping his cock out in front of enemies but I wasn’t about to piss where we were camping. When I felt I was out of sight I unzipped and settled in for a long pee. One hand resting on the rough bark of a tree, the other gripping my dick, I yawned widely as a shaft of sunlight danced over my neck. When I was done I shook, tucked and returned to camp.
“You’re such a shy young thing,” J.D. said as soon as I entered our little campsite.
“No, I have manners,” I replied while I knelt and unzipped my duffel bag. I dug around inside until I found a small bottle of hand sanitizer. I squeezed out a large dollop and worked it into my hands. J.D. caught the bottle neatly when I chucked it at him.
“Okay, I am officially jealous. Your mom packed your bag, didn’t she?” J.D. said as he regarded the hand sanitizer.
“No, you jackass, I packed it.”
“Pity, I was hoping you had some homemade cookies stashed in there next to the heart-shaped picture of your boyfriend.” The bottle bounced off the back of my head. The glower I threw at Bazin should have reduced him to ash.
“Okay, let’s stop being jerks. What is it about me that makes you such a dickhead?” I asked as I bent over to pick up my hand sanitizer.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m secretly harboring lustful desires for you and so I hide them by hurling cutting comments at you.” I spun around to find his dark eyes latched onto me. While the acidity of his words could have eaten through a Sherman tank, the lust in his gaze was anything but corrosive. The knowledge that this man actually wanted me made my blood thump in my ears. My shoulders tensed.
“What are you, five years old or something?” My fingers tightened around the hand sanitizer.
“If you had pigtails I would dunk them into an inkwell,” J.D. countered. We stood facing each other. Something was crackling in the four feet of space that separated us. “Or maybe I should just jack you up against that tree and kiss you until you beg me to fuck you. You do know that’s how it will be, right? This antagonistic ‘I hate you!’ crap is just a cover that we’re both using because we want to get at each other. Yeah, you know. I can see it in those blue-green eyes of yours.”
My breath hitched. I took a step in reverse. J.D.’s mouth curled into a predatory smile then he stepped closer.
“I have a boyfriend.” It rolled out of me before I could think properly. The sensual smile that had been playing over his lips disappeared. “And you are not my type.”
“You’re lying,” he said as he reached up to stroke my cheek. The feel of his fingers moving over my whiskers made my skin prickle. “I just can’t figure out if I should pretend to believe that you don’t like men who take charge or if you’re just scared about meeting the first man to ever tell you just how shit will be.”
“You’re fucking delusional.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “You’d better go take a walk and think about baseball stats or some other boring shit. It wouldn’t be seemly for us to return with you sporting such a… rosy bloom on your cheeks.”
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
Winner’s Prize: $10 Amazon Gift Card
Runner Up’s Prize: $5 Amazon Gift Card
December 4: The Purple Rose Tea House
December 9: Garrett Leigh