I have read two of CD Brennan's other books and loved them. I started reading this one last night, and am excited to promote it! Support local artists! Get it now while it is 99 cents.
Blurb
Hot. Intense.
Relentless.
Rory Cameron is all about rugby. He’s been
playing since he
was a wee bairn in Edinburgh. By now, he
should be a powerhouse with his
single-minded dedication to the Traverse
City Blues Rugby Club. But something
is missing. With his dad breathing down his
neck to make a big club, the last
thing he needs is a sassy country girl
distracting him.
Grace making the men’s team? Improbable.
Rory coaching a
women’s rugby team? Unbelievable. Falling
for the girl? Absolutely.
Grace Bowman moves to Michigan to forge a
new life without
her family’s constant mothering. She
refuses to let her diabetes keep her from
the life she craves. Time to live big and
take chances—carpe diem and all that.
Still, the last thing she expects is for things
to heat up with the coach of
the women’s rugby team. If her new
lifestyle doesn’t kill her, rugby just
might. But Grace is willing to take the
chance for a winning try with Rory.
Excerpt
Most people assumed if you were quiet, you
were passive, if
you were an introvert, you were
dispassionate.
That was the farthest from the
truth.
Ruaridh, or Rory as everyone called him,
was a very
passionate man. It just didn’t show on the
outside. Or rarely. Even when Rory
was in pain, like he was now. He had mucked
up the game for the Blues again,
and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
They had lost Saturday’s match on a
play Coach called the Americana. Not sure
if the name was based on the coffee
or the culture… Actually, the coffee was an
Americano, so no. And did it even matter?
He stretched his neck from side to side,
pops and creaks as
he did. For the hundredth time, he thought
perhaps he wasn’t made for rugby.
Maybe it wasn’t in his blood like his
father claimed. Maybe there had been a
leap in generations, the ball gene bouncing
haughtily over the top of his head.
All the weight training, conditioning, the
protein smoothies, rugby videos for
strategy—eating and breathing rugby—and
still no results. At least not what was
expected of him.
“Rory!”
“Hm?”
“Bro, grab that other side of the table and
help me move it
to the far
wall.”
“Oh, sure, Del.”
They shuffled and maneuvered the table down
the long aisle
banked with treadmills and rowers nearest
the window, stationary bikes and
ellipticals on the other side. It was a
Monday at Crunch Fitness Gym, one of
the busiest nights of the week, almost
every machine taken, and the reason they
were here to do a bit of recruitment for
the Blues. The bigger the pool of men to
play, the better chance of winning the
games.
“Right along here, Rory, boy.”
Del placed his side of the table first
along the back wall
of the core strength area littered with
colorful exercise balls. Rory then
followed with his own side of the table.
“Where’s Irish?”
“He probably waited for Gillian to get home
from work for a
bit of humpty-dumpty, but he’ll be here.
Come on, cuz, let’s grab the chairs.”
Rory followed Del back the way they had
come. Padraig, who
the team had nicknamed Irish, had been new
to the Blues last year but already
had landed a woman and a spot on the USA
Eagles national team. “I kind of miss
him at the
house.”
Del gave him a look over his shoulder as
though he was
completely daft. “We’re talking about the
same Irish, right? Moody fucker as
fun as a torn
ligament?”
“He’s gotten better. You have to
admit.”
Del handed Rory three folding chairs and
then collected the
box with their flyers and sign-up sheets.
He grabbed their banner that was
still set along the brick wall at the
entrance to the gym. “Mate, that’s true.
When he first came, never thought I’d see
the day.”
“Who’s
that?”
Both turned to see Irish standing just
inside the door with
a gear bag over his shoulder.
“Ah, speak of the devil. Help Rory with one
of those chairs,
mate, and give us a hand setting
up.”
Irish dropped his bag where he stood and
offered a hand to
Rory, who refused. “Nah, you’re good. Need
the extra training. I got this.”
Irish shook his head. “Do you ever stop,
like?”
“Not until I get there.” Rory shimmied past
both the lads,
ignoring the look that Irish had thrown
Del. He’d get there. Any day now and
things would click, all come together. His
rugby stars would align, and he’d be
a streak of lightning on the pitch. This
Cameron would play for a big European club,
just like his da wanted. He’d be a blur on
the field, dodging and spinning, one
try after another—a
champion.
Lost in the beautiful daydream, Rory missed
helping with the
setup until Del yelled at him to help hang
the Blues banner across the front of
the table.
The three of them took a chair behind with
Del in the
middle.
Behind the row of ellipticals and bikes was
a wall of weight
machines that divided the room between the
cardiovascular equipment and the
large area for free weights. The gym had
become something of a second home to
Rory over the years, and although
comfortable in the space, he recently found
it boring. Always the same people, often
many trying to show off, the stench of
sweat and body odor now overbearing. Where
the noises of a busy gym used to
offer him a type of relief, a recognition
of who he was in a way, he now found
them irritating and abrasive.
They had barely sat down when a couple of
girls walked by
the table. A blonde with big breasts in a
tight gym shirt and leggings slowed
as she passed and smiled. Her eyes
flickered over all three before they settled
on Del.
“Good evening, ladies, you want to play
rugby?” Del waved a
flyer at them, his smile bright against his
darker skin.
Her friend with short, spiky hair and more
muscles than Rory
tugged on the blonde’s hand until she moved
again.
“Aw c’mon,” Del teased. “We could use some
fit ladies like
yourselves.”
The blonde smiled over her shoulder and
shook her head.
“Del, you’re off to a bad start,” Irish
said.
“What do you mean, bro? I think I’m off to
a perfect start.”
“Wrong sex,” Rory pointed out.
Del tipped his chair onto the back legs.
“Nope. Right sex.”
“Coach said we can recruit women?” Rory
asked.
Irish leaned his elbows on the table and
made a point to
roll his eyes at Rory. He hated when the
bastard did that. Padraig had a
boarding school education, just like Rory,
but he didn’t have to show it off
all the time. “He’s not talking about
gender, Rory.”
Ah, got
it.
“I’m interested,” a female voice
interrupted.
Their heads turned in unison to a petite
woman who stood
just left of the table. She wore old-style
gray tracksuit pants the Americans
called sweatpants, heavy cotton and bunched
at the knees, and a pink T-shirt
with black letters that read I don’t wear
bows. I shoot ’em. Rory snorted a
laugh. She had her brown hair pulled back
with a headband and a water bottle in
her hand, but it was her eyes that he
returned to again and again in his assay.
Big and bold, a beautiful dark blue, like
the deepest fathoms of the ocean.
“Uhhh…” Del finally broke the awkward
moment, but with
nothing that could save their arses. Even
with all the swishes of the machines
and the clank of weights dropping, an
uncomfortable silence had draped itself
around their
table.
She crossed her arms. “I thought I just
heard y’all ask that
blond chick if she wanted to play.”
Irish covered his mouth with his hand, most
likely hiding
the smirk that Rory knew well, and Del just
sat there with his mouth open. Rory
wanted to say something. Anything to help
her. Or maybe not so much help, but
break the horrible discomfort that hung in
the air. Rory rubbed at his chest to
ease the ache.
Hands up in the air, she asked, “Well? Can
I play or not?”
About the Author
Having traveled and lived all over the
world, Cd Brennan now
enjoys reliving her glory days by writing
about them. Feisty heroines with
wanderlust or sexy rugby heroes who breathe
passion for more than just the
sport.
Aussie/Yankee twined, Cd is now settled in
Michigan with a
rugby player of her own and two wee sons
who are still adapting to the snow. A
full-time editor and mum, she and her hubby
still dream of starting a hobby
farm—a few cows or buffalo, maybe some
chickens and pigs, too. She loves rugby,
traveling, anything outdoors, and all
things from the 80s.
But she especially loves to hear from
readers! Find her at
your favorite places.
