Stealing Third by Marta Brown
Publication Date: July 2014
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
~Summary~
For Emily, going to camp, the summer before college starts, means leaving her feuding parents alone for the next eight weeks, and coming back to divorce papers is a risk she can’t take.
But no matter how many meddling phone calls, questionable hair decisions, and possibly illegal hookups she plans, her parents still march her off to Camp Champ totally against her will.
No matter. A few broken rules, and Em will be home free. That is, until she learns Tyler Ford, her baseball coach father’s star player and her drunken party hookup, is at camp, too.
For Tyler, summer is the onramp to the biggest decision of his life: med school or major leagues. Mega hot, possibly underage Emily? A complication he does not need.
But as the summer heats up with strikeouts and stolen bases will Tyler and Emily hit a home run and get what they’re after? Or will they both be thrown a curveball…in the game of love?
But no matter how many meddling phone calls, questionable hair decisions, and possibly illegal hookups she plans, her parents still march her off to Camp Champ totally against her will.
No matter. A few broken rules, and Em will be home free. That is, until she learns Tyler Ford, her baseball coach father’s star player and her drunken party hookup, is at camp, too.
For Tyler, summer is the onramp to the biggest decision of his life: med school or major leagues. Mega hot, possibly underage Emily? A complication he does not need.
But as the summer heats up with strikeouts and stolen bases will Tyler and Emily hit a home run and get what they’re after? Or will they both be thrown a curveball…in the game of love?
~Excerpt~
Emily
Tyler’s
question catches me off guard, since getting in trouble on purpose is all I’ve
been trying to do since I arrived at camp, but right now, that’s not why I’m here.
Unless giving Tyler hell can get me in trouble.
“Well?”
Tyler asks. His breath, minty and cool, rushes over my face, reminding me just
how close we are. “If you’re not here to see Todd, then what are you doing
here?” His jaw is tense and flexes as he stares at me.
I
bite my lip, unsure how to answer now that I’m here and we’re standing so close
I can feel the soft fabric of his Henley brush against my slightly sunburned
skin.
Tired
of all the games we’re playing, I drop my eyes to the ground and fidget with
the frayed hem of my jean shorts. “I…I came to see you,” I admit, trying to
keep an edge of anger in my voice, but it comes out sounding exactly the way I
feel. Vulnerable.
“Why?”
he whispers, angling his head so our foreheads almost touch, the space between
us so small I worry he can hear my heart thudding in my chest.
I
swallow hard. Why am I here?
My
mind races with the excuses I used to justify stomping over here—but with his
body so close, and his eyes so intense—flirting with Jenny right in front of my
face, or teasing me on the dock, or his antics on the field when I could have
sworn he was about to kiss me, all seem irrelevant. The truth is—I wanted to
see him.
“I came
to…uh…wait—” I know why I stomped over here to see him, mad, and jealous, and
determined to stop this game we keep playing, but why is he so mad? Because I’m
breaking the rules? Or is it because of something else?
Putting a hand on
my hip, I pull away so I can see his face, hoping I’ll find an answer there.
“Why do you care if I was here to see Todd or not?”
Tyler blinks like
the question has thrown him off guard. He steps backwards and rakes his
hands through his hair, taking with him the heat from his body, and sending a
chill up my arm in its absence. “You should go, Emily.” The intensity in his
stare at war with his words.
“Why?” I take a
step towards him, wanting to feel his body close to mine again, wishing he’d
tell me to stay.
“Emily.” It’s a
plea.
I press again.
“Tell me? Why would you care if I was here to see Todd?”
Tyler drops his
hands to his sides, sucks in a deep breath, and then lets it out in one quick
push of air. “Because the idea of him kissing you, or touching you, or even
being near you infuriates me,” he says so deep, and quiet, it comes out more
like a growl.
My breath catches
as I stare into his eyes—and unlike today on the field—this time he doesn’t hesitate.
~About The Author~
Marta Brown grew up in the Pacific Northwest and was a teenager when Doc Martens, Pearl Jam and flannel were the norm and Dylan loved Kelly forever (Beverly Hills, 90210 shout out).
She still lives just outside Seattle, now with her husband and cat, and loves the rain.
When she’s not writing about cute boys, first kisses and the magic and wonder of being seventeen, she’s watching The CW. And she sleeps in. Late.
She still lives just outside Seattle, now with her husband and cat, and loves the rain.
When she’s not writing about cute boys, first kisses and the magic and wonder of being seventeen, she’s watching The CW. And she sleeps in. Late.
Thanks for stopping by!
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