Thursday, September 7, 2017



They were best friends until they became roommates.

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Full Blurb

They were best friends until they became roommates.

Booker Harris has spent the last several years pushing himself to become the best goalkeeper in the Championship League. Tired of living in the shadows of his headline-splashing brothers, he has finally carved a path of his own.

As a child, Poppy McAdams was content in her own little make-believe world, until the boy next door with dimples and pained eyes came barreling into her makeshift fort demanding all her attention.

Best friends for most of their lives, everything changes when Poppy abruptly leaves London for University.

Now she is back, and gone is the awkward girl from Booker's youth. She has been replaced by a stunning woman with secrets.

Secrets that Booker is desperate to know.

Sharing a bedroom wall with your best friend from childhood quickly turns to anything but sweet and innocent. 


EXCERPT

I manage to sneak up beside her as she’s chatting with Vi, and she jumps nearly a foot in the air when she lays eyes on me.
“Booker!” Vi yells, pulling my focus off of Poppy. She wraps me in a hug. “Fucking aces game, my love. That last save. It was amazing! I can’t wait to watch it on the highlights I recorded at home. Seriously, career best save by far.”
I smile sheepishly as everyone else gives me a pat on the back, but the one I’m most curious for a reaction from remains silent. When their attention turns to something Rocky does, I step toward Poppy and nudge her with my elbow.
“Hello.” My voice is quiet as I lean over her, inhaling her scent—a vast improvement from the sweat and dirt wafting off of me.
“Hello,” she replies, looking up at me as she frowns with a puzzled expression.  
I smirk as I continue to tower over her. “How’d you like the game?”
Her eyes fixate on my mouth as I lick my lips. As if in some sort of daze, she twitches slightly and swallows. “Good seats.” Her cheeks flame red.
This amuses me and I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. Of all the things she could have said after never having seen me play, she comments on the seats. It makes me want to tackle her to the ground and tickle her until she admits how bloody good I am.
I quirk my brow. “That’s all you have to comment on?”
“Oh yeah, good game or whatever.” She flicks her wrist in the air like today is any old Saturday and she didn’t just witness my career best save.
This makes me snicker. She can be stubborn as a mule sometimes. Determined, I straighten my posture, looming over her even more now and trying to silently intimidate her into admission. I want to hear her fucking say it. I want to hear her say I’m great. I’m not usually a cocky sod. My ego isn’t one that needs constant attention. But fuck me, after a game like tonight, I can’t help but want praise from my best friend.
I pierce her with a challenging look. “Did you really just say whatever?”

Her tongue swipes across her glossy lips as I move in even closer. She starts twitching and murmurs so low I can barely hear her, “Are you seriously trying to keeper me right now?”

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About the Author


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Amy Daws is a lover of all things British and her London-based love stories bring the incredible city to life on every page. Read all about hot British men, hilarious heroines, and unforgettable and original ensemble casts that pull out all the feels. For more of Amy’s work, visit www.amydawsauthor.com
Instagram: http://instagram.com/amydawsauthor
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