BLURB
Two stubborn men.
One is a rude jerk. The other, the life of the party.
It was hate at first sight.
Pro beach volleyball players
Finn Callahan and Dexter Savage have been rivals since college. While Finn
always comes out on top on the court, Dexter’s carefree and fun-loving
personality earns him scores of adoring men and women. And as much as Finn
fights to deny it, there’s another reason for the tension he feels when Dex is
around. Hate wasn’t the only thing he felt when he first laid eyes on his
opponent.
When they’re forced to team up,
the two men must bury their differences—on and off the court—if either of them
is going to succeed professionally.
REVIEW
EXCERPT
Finn
“Get it. Get it. Hurry, hurry!”
I scramble for the ball while Coach yells
out encouragements—or possibly reprimands. I can never be sure which. Either
way I’m on top of my game today. I hustle to the net, get under the ball, and
bump it with my wrists, arcing it high for Dex.
Dex waits for it to come down and lifts it
using his fingertips. As the ball goes in the air, I take a running jump, curve
my body so it doesn’t touch any part of the net, and smack the ball over our
opponent’s head. It hits the sand.
“Yes,” Dex shouts and holds up a hand for
me to high-five. Grinning, I reach out and slap my hand into his. Dex holds on
to it for a brief moment. The contact is quick—less than a second—but the heat
that sears through my palm leaves a lasting impression. It’s time to switch
sides and it’s my turn to serve. Dex puts his hands behind his back and gives
me the signal to hit it left with no spin. I toss the ball up and hit it over
the net.
Beautiful. Our opponent drops to his knees
and makes the save, but he can’t get to his position quickly enough to reach
the ball his partner perfectly sets for him. Dex cheers and pumps his fist in
the air. I grin at his enthusiasm. Watching Dexter Savage have the time of his
life is mesmerizing. It infuses me with an energy I’ve never felt before. I no
longer see Dex as just another charming guy. He has me spellbound and hanging
on his every word.
“Nice whiff, dickhead,” I call out when he
misses a dig and comes up with a mouthful of sand.
I can’t have him thinking I like him or
something.
Dex laughs and spits out the sand. “Shut
up, Callahan.”
By the end of the day, we should be
exhausted, but we’re riding high on winning the New Orleans Open, and on the
thirty-minute ride back to the hotel on the river, we both get our second wind.
Dex is literally bouncing around. He’s so full of energy, he’s making me dizzy.
“Come on, Finn. Let’s go out to celebrate.
This is New Orleans, The Big Easy. There’s sin on every corner and a ton of
awesome clubs here.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt your idea of an awesome
club is the same as mine, Savage.”
“What?” Dex squints at me. Then his eyes
widen almost comically. “Oooooohhh. You don’t think I can handle a gay club?” A
slow, snarky grin spreads across his handsome face, and my breath hitches.
Hello dimple.
I shake off my dirty thoughts to get back
to the subject at hand. “No. I don’t. God. I can’t even think about you going
into a gay club without laughing.”
Or getting hard and groaning.
“Hmph.” Dex levels his intense hazel eyes
at me and quirks one eyebrow in challenge.
“No, Dex.”
“Yes, Finn,” he sings gleefully.
“No way.”
Dex chuckles and nods his head. “Oh yes.
Pull out your sparkly top, baby, because we’re hitting the gay clubs tonight.”
“Fuck you, Savage. I don’t own a sparkly
top.”
“Rainbow?”
“No.”
Dex gives me a disgusted look. “What kind
of gay man are you?”
“Not a very good one, I guess.”
One who crushes on his straight teammate,
that’s what kind of gay man I am. A stupid one.
After five minutes of back and forth, I
finally get Dex to let go of the idea of cruising gay clubs tonight, but only
on the promise that I’ll take him to one when we get back to LA. I’m hoping
he’ll forget by then, because seeing his gorgeous ass shaking on a dance floor
while hot, sweaty guys grind on him? I’d implode before the night was over.
We change and grab a cab, and Dex directs
the driver to head toward Bourbon Street. “Really, Dex? Bourbon Street? Can’t
we go somewhere a little less—”
“Less fun? No, Callahan, we can’t. You’re
having fun if it kills me. Tonight I’m officially removing the stick from your
ass….” Dex twists his head and shoots me a scorching look that has my dick
throbbing painfully in my shorts. “Even if I have to pin you down to yank it
out.”
Holy fuck.
I swallow, and my mouth suddenly
disconnects from my brain as every drop of blood in my body turns to lava and
collects in my groin.
“Whatever, Savage,” I mumble, turn to the
window, and shift my hips so Dex can’t see my now fully hard cock.
Dex laughs and shoves my shoulder. Does he
not know what he’s doing to me? I sneak a glance at my teammate. He’s looking
out his own window, eyes glittering, smile as wide as a kid on Christmas
morning.
No. He has no clue. He’s truly excited to
go out and have fun. In fact he’s practically bursting out of his skin, he’s so
wound up. But then, Dexter Savage always was the life of the party. He’s
comfortable in his own skin. It’s what makes him so attractive. Well, besides
the tousled, just out of bed hair, the perfectly straight nose and full mouth,
and the body to die for. But his outgoing personality was what had me crushing
on him in college—and the reason I hated his guts. I watched him every day at
practice as he charmed everyone around us, and knew he would never be available
to me.
“Here it is.” Dex throws some money at the
cab driver and leaps out of the car. I take a look at my surroundings and thump
my head on the glass. We’re on a street thick with pedestrians clutching
hurricane glasses and sipping through long straws as they mingle in the crowd.
Neon signs line the business fronts on both sides of the cab, each promising a
different kind of debauchery inside.
Dex leans down and sticks his head in the
backseat. “What are you waiting for, Callahan? Let’s get this party started.”
Ugh. Tonight is going
to be pure torture.
About the Author
Leigh
Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling Contemporary
romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.
She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, 2
kids, and French bulldog.
She is leaving explicit directions in her will
for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they
are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked
good time.
