Tough Luck, a sports rom-com, by USA Today Bestselling author, Liv Morris.
You fell in love with Brady Luck, now meet his brother Bryce!
Read the excerpt & make sure to add it to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2f3cJz6
There’s one rule in reporting: don’t ever fall in love…
When Amelia Adams tells everyone my days as Chicago’s quarterback are over, I vow never to give her another minute of my time—until the team owner sees an empty stadium, and forces us together on a reality show in hopes of filling the seats.
When Bryce Luck becomes my assignment, I swear his brown eyes and dimpled smile won’t make my knees weak—that I’ll keep a professional boundary. But I can’t fight this attraction, especially when he whispers sweet nothings in my ear and promises to do a million dirty things to me when the cameras stop rolling.
When the show is over, and the game’s been played, will our love become a reality? Or are we just out of luck?
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Amelia and I move farther into my hotel room. She claims we need to go over something for tomorrow’s Beauty and The Baller show, but we said good night twenty minutes ago. If work is an excuse for her being here after hours, we’re in unchartered territory.
“You caught me just getting out of the shower.” Amelia’s gaze trails over my bare abs, then down to the towel wrapped around my hips. “Better turn around, unless you want an eyeful.” To my surprise, she moves closer instead of turning away.
“Seen one. Seen ’em all,” she singsongs, looking at me with a gleam in her eyes.
“Right,” I scoff, knowing she’ll be changing her mind about that soon. “Okay, you’ve been warned.” I drop the towel, letting it fall to the floor. When she gasps, I smile and shake my head. Just like I thought.
“Wow. You’re…” Amelia exclaims while staring at my dick with wide eyes.
“Like a horse.” I leave out the word “hung” as drool forms at the corner of her open mouth.
“I’ve seen bigger.” She narrows her eyes, but they travel downward, landing on my semi-hard salute. She licks her lips and bites down on the plump lower one.
“I bet parts of me are more than you can handle,” I tease, pointing downward to the goods.
“Don’t be silly, Bryce. I’m an overachiever.” Her chin tilts up in defiance, but it sounds like she wants to prove me wrong. After all, being an overachiever requires taking on a big task and completing it.
I watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Add her darkened green eyes, and it sums up to one thing: she wants me too, but will she admit it?
God knows I can’t fight what I feel for her anymore, especially with her standing before me in a tight black dress, her blond hair spreading over a killer rack. Yeah, the game’s over for me—and she won.
I don’t just want her. I crave her.