Title: Defensive Play
Series: A Boys on the Brink Novella
Author: Jamie Deacon
Publisher: Beaten Track Publishing
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Release Date: November 30, 2018
Genre: Gay YA Sports Romance
Length: 21,500 words
About the Book
Blurb
One glance is all it takes to bring his defences crashing down…
Seventeen-year-old Davey has never made friends easily. Shy, geeky, crippled with social anxiety, he feels isolated from his peers, and only his position as defender for the school football team fills the void of loneliness. On the pitch, his deft footwork has earned him the respect and acceptance of his squad, though at a price. Desperate to hold onto this camaraderie, Davey conceals the truth from everyone, even his own family.
Then, during the annual Brookshire football tournament, his eyes meet those of a rival player across the field and a spark flares between them, one neither boy can deny. Adam is everything Davey longs to be—confident, popular, comfortable with his sexuality. Davey aches to explore their connection, to discover where it might lead, but how can he follow his heart and risk rejection by his teammates, the closest thing to friends he has ever known?
Excerpt
The rain has stopped. A soft mist hangs in the air, turning the distant streetlights a hazy orange. After the stuffiness of the clubhouse, the night is bitterly cold and I pull on my sweatshirt against the chill. I sit on the steps overlooking the car park, heedless of the damp that seeps through my jeans. Elbows on knees, I rest my chin in my hands and close my eyes, attempting to clear my mind. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to sit with nothing but the dark and the quiet for company.
I haven’t been hunched there long when the door opens, ejecting a stream of warmth and thumping bass. I glance behind me, although I know who it will be. My body goes still. Adam lets the door swing shut and, just like that, we’re alone.
He doesn’t seem surprised to find me on the steps. Perhaps he saw me leave. Has he followed me? My insides clench. What if Adam thinks I did it deliberately, that I meant to lure him out here. Maybe I had. Maybe, deep down, a part of me hoped Adam might come, even while the rest of me prayed he wouldn’t.
This time, when our gazes connect, there’s no one to see, no football match to act as a buffer. I drink him in. Even in the faint glow filtering through the frosted pane in the door, his eyes are a vivid blue.
“Hey,” Adam says. Such a simple word that expresses so much. There’s recognition there, like we’re childhood friends meeting after years apart, but uncertainty, too. He has a nice voice, I register through my turbulent thoughts—warm and slightly husky.
“Hey.” My reply emerges somewhere between a croak and a squeak. Cringing, I stare down at my feet.
“It’s Davey, right?”
I fling him a startled look. Had this boy—this confident, gorgeous boy—actually gone to the trouble of finding out my name?
One side of Adam’s mouth lifts in a crooked smile. “Well, I had to know who the lunatic was who almost took my leg off.”
“God.” I bury my face in my hands. Of course Adam was going to ask about me after what happened on the pitch. “I’m so sorry.”
He laughs and nudges my thigh with the toe of his trainer. “I’m kidding. Seriously, you did us a favour.”
I dare a peep at him, unable to rid myself of the thought that he has pursued me out here to take the piss. That wouldn’t be anything new, after all.
“It’s true.” Adam crouches on the step beside me, his expression amused but without malice. “Rob warned me about you. He said the rest of your defence was pretty solid, but probably weren’t quick enough to catch me. You were the real threat.”
I grimace. “I’m guessing he wasn’t expecting me to take you out quite so spectacularly, though.”
“Funnily enough, that wasn’t included in the pep talk. Still, I should be thanking you. You made our job a whole lot easier.”
“Don’t remind me. You should’ve heard the guys after the match. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Adam laughs again, and I can’t hold back a smile. Here I am, having an actual conversation with an amazing-looking boy—a boy who’d caught me checking him out, no less—and I’m not making an ass of myself.
The door behind us bursts open and several guys spill out. I tense, guard raised. Will they think it odd us sitting out here alone? I scan their faces, but none are from Farnstead. A moment later, they barrel down the steps without giving either of us a second look and head for one of the cars parked nearby.
As they pile in and the engine growls to life, I exhale, shoulders slumping. I can feel Adam studying me and keep my gaze lowered.
“You’re not out,” he says, “are you?”
“What?” My entire body goes rigid. He knows. I’d already guessed as much, but suspecting it is one thing; being confronted with the indisputable truth sends me spiralling back into panic mode. Why had he really followed me out here? I’d thought…been sure I’d read something in his eyes when they locked with mine, but what if I’m wrong? Do I truly believe someone like Adam, someone popular and self-assured, would have sought me out? Unless…
I see again the Brookminster players in their huddle, sniggering, moments after Adam caught me staring. I’d reassured myself they weren’t laughing about me, but perhaps my fears had been well founded. The cold certainty settles like a snowball in my gut. I’d given myself away, and now the other lads have sent Adam out here to chat me up, trick me into an admission I won’t be able to take back. For all I know, his mates are somewhere close by as we speak, listening in.
“Hey.” Adam extends his palms in what is probably supposed to be a calming gesture. “It’s all right. I know and it’s all right.”
“You don’t know anything,” I snap. The instinct for self-preservation, to keep my protective wall intact at any cost, propels me to my feet. “You hear me? You don’t know anything about me.”
Before he can respond, I’m down the steps and sprinting into the darkness, phone already out to call my parents. All I want is to go home, crawl into bed, and forget today ever happened.
Purchase Your Copy!
Kindle UK |
Kindle US |
Nook |
Apple Books |
Kobo |
Smashwords |
Beaten Track Publishing
About Jamie Deacon
Author Bio
Jamie lives in a tranquil spot close to the River Thames in Berkshire, England, and has always been just a little out of place—the only redhead in a family of brunettes; an introvert far more at ease with dogs than with people; a connoisseur of simple pleasures in a society intent on the quest for wealth and fame. Despite an outward cynicism, Jamie is a romantic at heart, and, when not immersed in a book, can mostly be found writing emotional stories where young men from all walks of life are forced to navigate the sometimes painful reality of growing up, coming out, and falling in love.
Connect with Jamie
Website |
Blog |
Facebook |
Twitter |
Goodreads
Giveaway
To celebrate the release of
Defensive Play, Jamie Deacon is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Card. For your chance to win, simply enter via the Rafflecopter below. The giveaway is open to entrants world wide, and closes at midnight EST on Friday December 7, 2018.
Good luck!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
EXCERPT:
“This the one, Ms. Priss?” I turned in a circle, hating how restrictive and stiff the refined suit felt. There would be no staying on the horse for eight seconds in something like this. I doubted I could even bend over and pull my boots on in this getup. I failed to see how being dressed like I was going to high tea with the queen was going to convince normal men with a little extra cash to buy the junk in my hair. It felt like overkill, but I would chew my tongue off before telling Della that. I knew how much this campaign meant to her, and I needed her to keep me around so I could get paid. .. and get to kiss her again.
Della circled around me, eyes scanning from head to toe. A small frown tugged her perfectly arched brows down into a V, and her lush, soft mouth pulled into a pout I was becoming achingly familiar with. She lifted a hand and touched the knot of the silk tie where it rested at the base of my throat. She fingered the delicate material and heaved a sigh.
“You look perfect, but something is still off.” She met my gaze with a scowl. “Can you try and look a little less like you’re being tortured? That might help the overall image.”
Her snippy tone and the upturn of her nose made me grin. I rolled my head around, causing my neck to pop and my shoulders to relax. Della’s expression softened when I was no longer standing at attention, but she still let out a dejected-sounding sigh and reached for my tie, releasing me from the expensive noose.
“You have a body made for designer clothes, but something is lost when you put them on. I feel like we’re trying to wrap the Mona Lisa in silk or something. Frankly, it’s annoying that you make denim and flannel look just as good as Versace and Prada.” Once she had the tie off, she told me to go ahead and get back into my own clothes. I asked her what the plan was for the shoot and a brief flare of panic and doubt lit up her catlike eyes. She forced a smile and told me she would figure it out.
Since I was totally a fish out of water in this scenario, all I could do was follow orders like a good soldier. I stripped out of the fitted vest and worked on the tiny buttons of the shirt. I was handing them both off to the flirty wardrobe girl who was enjoying the impromptu striptease when Della’s “Wait a second!” had both of us freezing on the spot.
She was looking at me in the mirror, eyes roving over my half-dressed form. She wandered over to where my jeans and boots were tossed in a haphazard pile on the floor. After a second of rooting around, she came toward me, my black wifebeater in one hand and my boots in the other.
“Put these on with the pants.” She looked at the wardrobe girl with a lifted brow and had to snap her fingers in the woman’s face to get her attention. “Go find me a pair of suspenders, leather if you have them.” The other woman scurried off to do as she was told and I dropped to the seat to pull on my boots.
“I keep trying to turn you into something better.” I looked up at Della as she snorted out a laugh. “But from the start, you were perfect the way you are.”
About Jay Crownover:
Jay Crownover is the international and multiple New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men series, the Saints of Denver series, the Point series, the Breaking Point series, the Getaway series, and the Loveless, Texas series. Her books can be found translated in many different languages all around the world. She is a tattooed, crazy haired Colorado native who lives at the base of the Rockies with her awesome dogs. This is where she can frequently be found enjoying a cold beer and Taco Tuesdays. Jay is a self-declared music snob and outspoken book lover who is always looking for her next adventure, between the pages and on the road.
About K Bromberg:
New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.
She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat, and Down Shift), and a novella (UnRaveled).
About Kristen Proby:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.
Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.
EXCERPT:
The bell dings, and I reach for my small handbag and answer the door.
Brody’s eyes start at my face and slowly meander down my body to my sandal-covered feet, and if I’m not mistaken, his jaw clenches.
Just friends, Brooke.
“Hey.”
I can’t help but take my own perusal of the man standing before me. Jesus in a basket, he fills out a suit nicely. His shoulders are broad, and his arms muscular.
Yes, this does things to me.
“Can I come in?” he asks with a small smile on his lips.
“Of course.” I step back and he walks inside my small house.
“This is nice,” he says, but his eyes are still on me.
“Thanks. I’ve been here for a couple of years.” I glance around, wondering if Brody and I have the same tastes, and then I glance back to him and bust out laughing.
“What?” he asks.
“Turn around.” He complies, and I reach up to pull the tag that’s poked out of the neck of his jacket. His hair is soft against the back of my fingers, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like as I fist it while he does amazing, sexy things to me.
I take a deep breath and hand it to him with a laugh. “Wear it every day, my ass.”
He tucks the tag in his pocket. “I didn’t bring a suit to Montana. I had to improvise.”
He bought it just for me.
And according to the tag, it wasn’t cheap.
Now I feel bad. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. He spent a bunch of money that he didn’t need to, all because I gave him a hard time.
“I thought we could eat at Ciao tonight,” he says as he leads me out of the house to his rented convertible. The sun broke out a couple of hours ago, and it’s the perfect temperature now. But I just did my hair.
I think about asking him to put the top up, and then decide, fuck it.
I reach into my handbag and pull out a hair tie, twist my hair on top of my head, and grin as I sit in the fun car.
“I could have put the top up.”
“And that would have been a waste on a day like today,” I reply smoothly and have to physically restrain myself from reaching over to brush my fingertips through that soft hair at the nape of his neck.
We drive through town in silence. Rather than park in front of the restaurant, he drives past, and I frown over at him.
“Having second thoughts?”
“No.” He sends me a smile. “Before we go in, I’d like to know why you got so quiet.”
I bite my lip and look out my window, then turn to him and say, “Did you buy that suit just for me?”
“Seems I do a lot of things for you lately,” he replies with a grin. “It’s not a big deal, Brooke.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I was just goofing around this afternoon. I didn’t mean for you to have to do all of this.”
“All of what?”
“Buy that gorgeous suit, take me to dinner. I feel like I hijacked your day, and I feel bad.”
He pulls over, whips his seatbelt off, and turns to me.
“Look at me.”
I comply. He drags his knuckle down my cheek again, and that’s all it takes to set my body on high alert.
“I don’t believe this,” I bitched. “My Valentino boots are actually sticking to the floor. That’s how gross this place is.”
Lizzy just smiled. “Told you to dress casual.”
“I am.”
The smile widened.
“Jeans and a tee is casual.”
“A tee? It’s velvet, Martha.” She held a bottle of beer up to her lips, taking a sip. “I said we were going to a dive bar. You have only yourself to blame for the fashion faux pas.”
“But velvet is in!”
“Would you two quit talking? I’m trying to listen,” said my brother, Ben. The big hairy idiot was slouched back in his chair, bopping his head in time to the music.
Lizzy shuffled closer all conspiratorial-like. “I know why you’re all dressed up.”
I said nothing. There was nothing to be said.
Next her gaze went to the man standing at the end of the bar across from us. No, no, I would not turn my head. I would not fall prey to her bullshit. After all, I’d managed to successfully avoid him for the forty-eight or so hours since my not so triumphant surprise return to the West Coast. Even with us both being in the same house. A very big sprawling house, but still.
On the other hand, it should probably be mentioned that he looked awfully good tonight in jeans and a white T-shirt with a leather jacket. Samuel Rhodes, otherwise known as Sam. Not a pretty man with his harsh features and bull-like neck, but something about him appealed to me. As always, his head was shaved and his body was built and my idiot fingers itched to explore.
Okay. So I guess at some point I must have turned my head. And shit, he caught me looking.
The corner of his lips rose just a little, just enough to mess with me, before he returned to doing his job by casually surveying the packed room. My heart did not speed up due to anything done by him. Clearly, I hadn’t totally caught my breath from when we’d walked in half an hour ago or something. That was all. Interesting to note, he did none of the checking me out typical of a heterosexual male who might have been into me. In fact, he didn’t really give me any signals at all. Ever.
Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013 & 2014, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet. You can learn more about Kylie from 
Lara Adrian
Laurelin Paige
A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, 
USA Today and Amazon Top 10 bestselling author 
USA Today bestselling author 
