Game On is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept Ebook Original
Copyright © 2019 by Kelly Jamieson
Excerpt from Play to Win by Kelly Jamieson copyright © 2019 by Kelly Jamieson
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Play to Win by Kelly Jamieson. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Ebook ISBN 9781101969434
Cover design: Diane Luger
Cover photograph: Halay Alex/Shutterstock
randomhousebooks.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Dedication
Acknowledgments
By Kelly Jamieson
About the Author
Excerpt from Play to Win
Chapter 1
Cam
“They called me Lauren Dyson Ball Vacuum Thingy Jones in college.”
I blinked at the chick talking to me, letting what she’d just said sink in. We’d been flirting for a few minutes at the bar while I waited for my beer. “Uh…”
“Because I handle super smoothly and I love sucking.” She winked.
Okay. Wow.
“Impressive.” I managed a smile, took my beer from the bartender, and turned. “Nice talking to you, Lauren.”
I made a beeline back to my bros at a table near the window. “Jesus Christ.” I told them what had just happened, and they all laughed, their heads turning to the bar to search out the woman. “Don’t look, don’t look.” I swiped my forehead.
“Come on, Brick. It’s not like you to turn down a hot chick.”
My name wasn’t Brick, just FYI—Cam Brickley, but my teammates all called me Brick. We were hockey players, so we had to have nicknames.
“That was a bit much, even for me.”
We were at River East Social House, enjoying the blues music and the drinks on a Friday night off—me, Chaser, Bomber, Rico, and Pilker. Seemed like we were the only single ones left on the Aces hockey team. That wasn’t even true though. Pilker had met someone back in Sweden over the summer, and she was in the process of moving here. Rico had been seeing someone for a while now. Bomber had had two dates with the same woman, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but…And Chaser, my best buddy, was living with Jordyn Banks, famous pop star. All the other guys were engaged or married off, their wives popping out babies left and right.
It was kind of depressing.
“You need to find a woman and settle down.” Chaser pointed at me with his beer bottle.
“Oh no. No, no, no. Do not do that to me.” I scowled at him. “You’re all married off, and you think everyone else should be. Why do guys do that?”
Chaser shrugged. “Just want you to be happy, man.”
“I am happy.”
“Huh.”
“What the fuck does that mean? You think I’m not happy?”
“Sure, sure you’re happy. But you know…you could be happier. You just don’t know what it’s like. You’re too busy manwhoring around.”
“I’m having fun.” I lifted my drink to my lips. I considered going back and talking more to Lauren but winced. “Sort of.”
“Let’s make a bet.” Chaser leaned on the table.
My ears perked up. The competitor in me always liked a bet. We bet on all kinds of crazy shit…who could do forty push-ups in less than a minute, who could eat a ghost pepper without puking, or whether Chaser and I would slow-dance together for an entire song at our friends’ wedding. (We did it.) Once Chaser bet me that he could win five face-offs in a row against me. I sadly lost, meaning I had to take off his skates for him every day for a week. That was painful.
“I bet you can’t see the same woman for two months in a row without falling in love with her.”
“What?” I scoffed. “That’s stupid. I don’t fall in love.”
“That’s because you never give anyone a chance,” Rico said.
“I have.”
“Nah, you haven’t.”
It was true. “I like women. I like women a lot.”
“Ha, you like a lot of women,” Bomber joked.
Also true. I was quite happy in my casual yet bountiful dating life.
“Doesn’t matter how long I date someone,” I said. “I won’t fall in love.”
Chaser snorted. “Right. What do you want to bet? I’ll wash your jockstrap for the rest of the season.”
“Hmm.” I rubbed my chin. “You know I don’t wear a jockstrap. Only Bomber does. That thing’s disgusting, by the way.”
Bomber shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s my lucky jock.”
“Okay, I’ll wash your shorts,” Chaser corrected.
That would be sweet. “But the rest of the season’s not long enough…two months will be middle of April…I think it has to be more than that.”
“Okay, for the rest of this calendar year. And if you lose, you wash all of ours.” He gestured around the table.
“Ugh.”
He raised a challenging eyebrow.
“But I’m not even seeing anyone right now.”
“I’ll bet you can’t pick up that hot blonde over at the bar.” Rico lifted his chin.
“Not Lauren Dyson Ball Vacuum!” My head whipped around to look.
“Is that Lauren? The one standing at the end of the bar—she’s with two girls and a guy.”
“No, that’s not Lauren.” I narrowed my eyes. “But she’s with a guy.”
“You don’t know if they’re together.”
“She’s hot,” Bomber agreed. “Maybe out of your league.”
I straightened. “What?” That was like a double dare. A double dog dare. That was like laying out fat rails in front of a coke addict.
“Her friends are cute too,” Pilker said musingly. “Maybe you could go over and ask if any of them are interested.”
“No!” all three guys shouted.
Pilker grinned. “Not the right approach?”
“Definitely not.” I grimaced. “You need to make a woman feel like she’s special.”
“Plus that would sound really lame and desperate,” Rico added.
&nb
sp; “Well, if you’re so good at it…” Chaser lifted an eyebrow at me.
“What are we betting on this?”
“I already said…washing the shorts.”
“No. That was for dating someone for two months without falling in love. What are we betting on me getting a date with her?”
“Ah.” Rico nodded. “Okay.” He tapped his chin. “If you can’t get her to go out with you, I get your Stiff T-shirt.”
I stared at him in horror. “No way. That’s too valuable to give up.”
The T-shirt was made by legendary indie record producer Stiff, and it said on the front IF IT AIN’T STIFF IT AIN’T WORTH A FUCK. It was one of my most prized possessions.
“You don’t think you can do it?” Rico smirked.
“Ah.” I glanced at the blonde. “Okay. What do I get if I do get her to go out with me?”
Rico rubbed his jaw. “Hmmm.”
“I know. Your Gordie Howe autographed hockey card.”
“No way.”
I grinned. “You know you’re going to lose.”
“I’ll give you my Wayne Gretzky one.”
I considered that. “Deal.” The next band came on and started their set. “I’ll do it after this set,” I shouted over the music.
They all gave me thumbs-up.
Christ. What had I gotten myself into? I drank more beer and listened to the music.
I turned my head slightly and eyed the woman they’d pointed out.
Yep. Hot.
I watched her instead of the band. My assessment was that she and the guy weren’t together. They didn’t touch. It looked platonic. Plus, he kept looking at the brunette who was with them.
Tall. Long blond hair. Seemed pretty from here, with a big smile that she flashed at her friends as they moved to the music. I couldn’t see all of her because of other people in the way, but then her friends moved. Whoa. Short skirt, high boots with killer heels and…legs to die for. Not that you could see much of them above the boots, but the stretch of toned, smooth thighs was…stellar.
Holy shit.
Okay, I’m not a legs man. Not a boobs man, or an ass man. I like all women parts equally. It’s the total package…and that includes the eyes, the smile, the personality. She was a total babe package. Well, except I didn’t know her personality. Yet.
Okay, this wouldn’t be a hardship.
Out of my league? Phhhhht.
Remember how I said I like women? Well, women like me too. Not being a cocky asshole—it’s true. My belief? Women like me because they know I like them. I know how to talk to them, how to treat them, how to make them feel special. I also know how to make them feel…special. If you know what I mean.
When the set finally ended, I slid off my stool and sauntered over to the bar.
In a perfect moment, she was on the outside of her group of friends; in fact, the guy wasn’t there. Probably in the can.
I gave a quick, subtle scan of her hands. No rings on her left hand, just a silver ring on her right ring finger.
“Hi,” I said with a smile I knew women couldn’t resist. “Sorry to interrupt.” I turned my body slightly and lifted my hand. “See those guys over there? At the table by the window?”
She gave me a look, slid her gaze toward my friends, then back to me.
Up close, she was really pretty. Her mouth was a little wide but had a sweet curve. She had amazing eyes…clear blue with a darker ring around the iris. Her long hair was many shades of gold, which I recognized as expensive highlights. In fact, she had an expensive air about her…the dress was plain, but the boots looked like they cost a thousand bucks.
“Those guys?” She pointed.
“Yeah.” I leaned in a little closer. Not creepy close though. “They want to know if you think I’m cute.”
She turned those blue eyes back on me, her perfect eyebrows arched above them. For a few long seconds, she just looked at me with no expression on her face. Then she laughed. “Oh my God.” She shook her head, and smiling, that mouth was even sexier. “Does that line work for you?”
Chapter 2
Olivia
He was most definitely cute.
Tall. Very tall, since I was five seven and wearing three-inch heels. Nice shoulders, flat abs, lean hips. Short dark hair that was kind of spiky and messy, thick eyebrows above deep-set brown eyes and a dusting of stubble on his lean jaw. Well dressed in a pair of dark jeans, with a crisp white shirt untucked over them, and sharp brown boots.
And he looked familiar…
“I’ve never used it before,” he admitted.
He had a great smile. Even using an obvious pickup line, his smile spun a web of fascination that was hard to resist.
“At least you didn’t say, ‘Do your legs hurt from running through my dreams?’ ”
“That’s a good one.” He grinned. “Especially since you have amazing legs.”
I felt my cheeks warm. Dammit.
“I’m kind of partial to ‘I just googled “sexy” and a picture of you came up.’ ”
“Ha ha. You’d get the same result if you googled ‘not interested.’ ”
His smile widened. “How about, ‘Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?’ ”
I cocked my head. “Go ahead. I need to practice hitting a moving target.”
He laughed out loud. “Is it hot in here, or is it just you?”
I smirked. “Actually, it’s you. Because you just crashed and burned.”
He threw his head back in honest enjoyment, laughing more.
“You don’t really use those lines, do you?” I had to smile back at him, his grin infectious. Heat zoomed low in my belly, attraction buzzing through my veins.
“Nah.” He made a face. “I don’t usually have to.”
It could have been cocky, and maybe it was a bit, but he said it in such a matter-of-fact way, I believed him.
Then I recognized him. Cam Brickley. He played for the Chicago Aces, our local NHL team. I wasn’t a huge hockey fan, but I liked most sports and enjoyed going to games a few times a year.
No wonder he didn’t have to pick up girls.
Why was this big-time pro athlete hitting on me? Whoa, whoa, wait…that was something my sister and mom had programmed into my brain. There was no reason someone like him shouldn’t be hitting on me.
I was…flattered.
But not interested.
I was done with men, especially after what I’d just gone through with Jason. Which sadly hadn’t been that different than any of the other guys I’d dated in the last few years. In my experience, men weren’t interested in me for who I was…they were interested in me because of who my family was, especially my dad, and because of my sizable trust fund.
“What makes me the lucky one?” I asked dryly.
His slow smile melted my panties. “Must be something wrong with my eyes. I couldn’t take them off you.”
“Good one.” Especially the way he looked at me, with heat and interest…as if he really couldn’t take his eyes off me.
“Did you like that band that just played?”
I studied him again, still not sure what was happening here, trying to figure out if that was another pickup line. “Yeah. They’re one of my favorites. That’s why we came here tonight.”
“Oh yeah? So you’ve seen them before?”
“Mmm. Lots of times.”
“Cool. I’ve been here before but haven’t seen them. How about the next band? Do you know them?”
“Blue Day. Yeah. They’re good too.”
“I’m Cam.” He held out a hand.
“I know,” I admitted. “I recognized you.”
“Ah.”
I hesitated before introducing myself. Ah, why not? “I’m Olivia.” We shook. His hand was big and warm. Strong.
He smiled again, and my belly fluttered. “Well, since my line didn’t work, I just want to tell you that I think you’re gorgeous, and I’d love to get to know you better. If you want to have a drink and talk, I’ll be over there.” He gestured back to his friends. “Your friends can join us too, if you want.”
Gorgeous. Well. The compliment felt sincere, and it made my heart quiver. And inviting all of us to join them was certainly not threatening or creepy. He was leaving it up to me.
“Okay. I mean, I’ll see what they say.”
“Great.” He flashed that winsome smile again and sauntered away.
As soon as he was out of earshot, my friends (and co-workers) Paisley and Julia moved in.
“Who was thaaaaat?” Paisley gripped my forearm.
“Cam Brickley.”
Julia and Paisley both gaped at me. “Shut up!”
I shrugged, excitement doing a little dance in my belly. I tucked some hair behind one ear. “Seriously.”
“Oh my God!” Julia practically jumped up and down.
My other friend Noah rejoined us then. “What’d I miss?”
“Cam Brickley was just trying to pick up Olivia!”
“No, he wasn’t.” I paused, not sure why I was denying it. Clearly, he had been.
“Cam Brickley, the hockey player?” Noah’s eyes widened.
“Yes!”
“Um, he invited us all to join him and his friends.” My gaze slid back and forth among them.
Julia and Paisley actually squealed.
“Come on.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that exciting.”
“Wait.” Noah held up a hand. “You said we need star power.”
I blinked. “What? Oh. This afternoon. Yeah. Ohhhhhh.”
These three were my best friends, but technically, I was their boss at Move On Chicago, a nonprofit organization I’d started three years ago. In a meeting earlier today, Paisley, our development manager, whose job was raising funds and building relationships to help grow the organization, had reported to us on her recent efforts to attract a prominent local spokesperson. Nobody from the Chicago Cubs or the White Sox or the Bears had called us back.
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