Title: Playing the Game
Series: A Beautiful Game #1
Author: Karen Frances
Release Date: January 16, 2017
International football star Fletcher Adams always has an eye on the ladies and, more often than not, one on each arm. The sexy football pin-up knows he needs to make changes in his life, but changes don’t come easily. It’s time to head home to Scotland, away from everything that distracts him, and concentrate on Playing the Game.
Jessica Taylor, a young ambitious business woman, has her whole life mapped out. With her own home, a boyfriend, and a baby on the way, her life is moving along according to plan. When the unimaginable happens, her world crashes down and the happy life she had is plunged into darkness.
A meeting of chance brings together two very different people from different worlds. Both are trying to move forward from pasts that haunt them. While Jessica is trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, Fletcher is trying to prove he’s calmed his wild ways and is ready to be the man to help piece her heart back together. Will Fletcher Adams be the right man to save her, or will she be the one to save him?
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31924680-playing-the-game
“Can you please stop fussing?” I ask calmly, although I’m silently counting one-to-ten under my breath as my mum tries to help me stand up. But she doesn’t stop fussing. She hasn’t listened to anything I’ve said to her this last week. I don’t know how much more of this I can cope with. It’s only going to get worse when I leave the hospital and go home with her. At least here she’s had to go home at night, and I’ve gotten a bit of peace and quiet. My mum means well, but this is too much, even for me.
“Oh, for FUCK’S sake! Leave it!”
Her expression changes; her soft features sadden at my words. Shit! Now I’ve only gone and upset her.
“There’s no need for you to be cursing. I know you’ve been through a lot, but there’s no need to take it out on me.” She turns her head away from me, not wanting me to see the hurt in her eyes.
“Sorry,” I say weakly. None of this situation is my mum’s fault; I shouldn’t take it out on her. But I can’t seem to help it. What’s the saying? ‘You hurt the ones you love the most.’ In my case, it’s certainly true. When I’ve not been sitting, staring blankly into space, ignoring everyone, I’ve been damn right rude. Under any other circumstances even I would have to admit to being a right bitch.
“Sweetheart, it’s fine. I just want to help you.” She takes my arm, and I let her this time. There’s not a single part of my body that’s not sore.
“You might fool everyone else, but not me. Is it some chick hassling you?”
“Hey, don’t knock it. Some of us would love to have your problems with the chicks.”
If I thought Logan would give me a sensible answer, I would tell him what was wrong.
I’ve thought about a girl all week long; couldn’t get her out of my mind. I was concerned about her. I spent a lot of time talking to her dad this last week and her story saddened me.
But after seeing her today and carrying her into the house…Christ, I can’t explain it to myself, so what chance have I got of Logan understanding? None, and he would only take the piss out of me for it.
I had to help when I saw them getting out of the taxi, and when her body fell to the ground, my heart stopped beating. I did the only thing I could to help and picked her up. Jesus, her battered and bruised body looked so tiny and fragile in my arms. Not once did her eyes open the whole time I held her protectively.
Fuck. I didn’t want to let her go.
“No, just dealing with my gran’s stuff. It’s got to me,” I tell him.
“You know you can talk to me anytime.”
“You’re Fletcher, aren’t you?” a tall blonde with legs that go on for miles asks, resting her hand on my shoulder. Logan smiles with a look that says you’ve pulled tonight. She is pretty tidy looking, but has overdone it in the make-up department. I rake my eyes in appreciation over her body. Curves in all the right places, and those tits, bloody hell…I could have a lot
of fun with those as I slide between them, but of course, they’re probably fake.
“Yeah,” I say, even though I shouldn’t, but I’m sure the rest of the guys are loving the female attention they’re getting. “Drinks all around,” I call out.
The bartender smiles as he looks at our company. Even he has an idea of how tonight will end.
The blonde tells me her name, but I don’t take any notice. I don’t want to remember her name in the morning, or whenever I creep out of her bed. Makes it easier that way. As the alcohol flows freely, the blonde keeps trying to persuade me to get on the dance floor with her. She seems the type that wouldn’t mind putting on one hell of a floor show. I might be on the drunk side now, but I’m still cautious. I’ve definitely learned my lesson over the years; you just never know who is lurking around, ready to get pictures. She can do what she wants for me in private later on, though.
Karen Frances currently lives just outside Glasgow, Scotland, with her husband, five children and two dogs, although she does dream of living somewhere warm and sunny. Her days are spent helping her husband run their busy family business. She spends some of her free time trying to keep fit and prepare healthy meals for her family, when their busy schedules allow them to sit down at meal times together. The rest of her free time she uses to plot and write and occasionally read.
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