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Is this love or just a game? Tori Rivera thinks Jamie McCade is rude, arrogant, and worst of all . . . the sexiest man she's ever laid eyes on. His reputation as a player is almost as legendary as his surfing skills. No matter how her body heats up when he's around, she's determined not to be another meaningless hookup. Jamie McCade always gets what he wants. The sickest wave. The hottest women. And Tori, with her long legs and smart mouth, is definitely the hottest one. He knows Tori wants him-hell, most women do-but she won't admit it. After months of chasing and one unforgettable kiss, it's time for Jamie to raise the stakes. Jamie promises that soon Tori won't just want him in her bed, she'll be begging for it-and he might be right. Somehow he's found the spot in her heart that makes her open up like never before. But with all she knows about his past, can she really trust what's happening between them? Is Jamie playing for keeps or just playing to win? This book can be read as a stand-alone. Book 1--Four Letter Word               

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EXCERPT

  “Bek came in to meet Brody for dinner.” Oh shit. I know where this is going. “She said you had a meltdown and missed lunch.” “Meltdown is a strong word...” I hesitate. “I had several rapid moments of clarity.” There. That sounds better. I get up off him and walk into the kitchen. I've already pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it when he joins me. “Sweetheart, what's bothering you?” His voice is so soft and tender that it's hard not to make eye contact. “Talk to me, Noelle.” “Everything hit me, okay?” I say quietly, looking at his legs and leaning against the kitchen table. “The wedding. The fact that it means I'm totally stuck with you forever. Seeing you with Casey and realizing that's next and you'd be perfect and that I'm not really an adult, I'm just pretending because I don't know if I'm ready for any of this super grown-up stuff and I'm stressed and I can't eat and I'm so tired of the fighting and stressing and being overwhelmed all the time.” “Look at me, Noelle.” I don't. He grabs my face and forces it up, meaning I have nowhere to look other than at his firm, blue gaze. “I'm fucking terrified of marrying you.” My lips are dry. “You are?” My voice cracks halfway through are. “Yeah.” Drake's mouth twitches to the side. “I've never been so terrified of anything in my life. It's scary, Noelle. It's stressful, and I wonder every day if your crazy family is going to make you throw your hands in the air and say, 'Fuck it. I'm done with this wedding.' I hate your being so worked up over all this when it's supposed to be fun. I'm scared you're going to change your mind because you're trying to do so much and I have no idea how to help you or make it better.” “I'm not changing my—” “Shh.” He presses his thumb to my mouth, still holding my face. “You are stressed. You're overwhelmed. You're working hard and not taking downtime. And as for seeing me with Casey... Well, I guess we had to have this conversation sooner or later.” I gently move his thumb from my mouth. “I don't even know if you want kids, Drake.” “Of course you do.” He's really smiling now. “I've told you before I do. I want nothing more than a family with you. My family is fucked up in the worst way, and yours is in the best way. I figure we can find the balance there.” “It doesn't scare you?” “Sure it does. But we have time.” Tori froze a foot away, blinking at me. She didn’t speak. If she had a reason for coming in here, it looked like that reason just left her. She seemed lost. “Legs,” I probed, when she kept with the staring and not speaking routine. “Mm?” “What are you doin’ in here, babe?” I had no fucking idea what was going on, but unless Tori wanted to watch some chick grind all over me, she needed to get what she came for and step out. She wet her lips. I watched her neck work with a swallow. “You showed me your dick,” she stated. I felt my mouth twitch. Fuck yeah. Breathing a laugh, I relaxed back onto the bench, arms spread behind me and hands gripping the black leather cushion. I tipped my head to the side. “See that impression is stickin’,” I said. “What’s that got to do with this?” “You showed me your dick after I flashed you. That was your move.” “Yeah.” I nodded. What the fuck was she getting at? Tori smiled. Her sin-colored lips stretching slow. “This is mine,” she said, lifting her shoulders as if this shit she was declaring wasn’t a big deal, which it sure as fuck was. This is hers…Oh, fuck me. Fuck. Me. Tori moved closer. Whatever smirk I was wearing pulled from my mouth. That pressure built again, in my chest and lower. I shifted on the bench. “Legs,” I warned, my voice vibrating in my throat as I watched her walk toward me. “What’d I say about takin’ this shit places you can handle? Did you think this through?” I was willing to bet she didn’t. If she had and knew how this could play out, with her bent over and me buried deep, she wouldn’t be back here. “Shh.” Tori stopped in front of my knees. “If we talk, I won’t go through with this,” she admitted, sounding anxious. “And I doubt you’d be chattin’ up the girl who was supposed to be in here, so quit it. Just sit there. Shut up. And keep your hands to yourself.” “You know what you’re doin’?” I asked, looking up at her. “’Cause in this room I’m allowed to touch, babe. Rules are out there.” I tipped my chin at the door, keeping her gaze. “Not in here. In here, I’m participatin’. You don’t like that deal, you better quit now and think of another move, ’cause the second you start takin’ shit off, Legs, I’m on you.” “Then I guess I don’t need to worry,” Tori shot back, speaking with confidence and smiling again. The fuck did that mean? My brow tightened. “Say again?” “I don’t need to worry ’cause I’m not taking anything off, meaning you won’t be on me. I’m just dancing.” I stared at her for a beat. Then a laugh rumbled in my chest as I thought about how fucked she was. “What?” she asked, tilting her head all cute. “This is a really good move.” “Know it is. Not laughing ’cause of that.” “Then why are you laughing?” She brought her hands to her hips and studied me, looking on the verge of an attitude. Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I need to take my clothes off to win this bet, then you are mistaken, Jamie McCade. I know how you feel about me in this uniform. This is gonna kill you.” “Legs, hate to tell you this, but you’re wrong, babe. You gotta worry.” “And why’s that?” I dropped my arms and sat forward, elbows resting on my thighs. “You start dancin’ on me and I’m touching you,” I promised, watching her blink. “You start dancin’ anywhere in this room and I’m touching you. You don’t gotta strip, babe. I just threw that out there ’cause that’s where I thought this was headed. Telling me you’re makin’ a move and you’re makin’ it in a strip club, figured you’d be taking shit off, but honest to God, it don’t matter. Like I said before, rules are out there. Not in here. Only way I’m keeping my hands to myself is if I’m fuckin’ dead.” “These are my rules,” Tori countered, bending down to get closer. “And unless you want me to holler out for my new friend with the gold tooth who looks like he eats narcissistic assholes for breakfast, I suggest you follow them, Jamie.” I chuckled, knowing who she was talking about. Dude made sure I was clear on a few things before letting me back in here. Something I wasn’t sharing with Legs. “And what are these rules, babe?” I asked. She straightened and snapped, “I already told you. Sit there and shut up.” Tori put her hand on my shoulder and shoved, pushing me back until I was pressing against the bench again. Then keeping her grip there, she swung her knee up, braced it on the leather, and lowered herself onto my lap, lifting her other knee and boxing me in with it. I pulled in breath through my nose and curled my hands into fists on the cushion. “And the touching?” I asked, voice strained as I stared at the shape of her tits. They grew closer as she leaned forward, her hands shifting to hold on behind me, and my gaze snapped up to meet hers when her face got an inch away. “Beg for it,” she whispered. My eyes flickered wider. Hers brightened with impending victory. No shit. Tori was gonna let me touch, but I had to call it. I had to let her win. I had to fucking beg. Jesus. Why’d she have to be so good at this shit? I steadied my gaze, telling her as my head tilted back, “Think I’ll just enjoy the ride.”         J.Daniels is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Sweet Addiction series, the Alabama Summer series, and the Dirty Deeds series. She would rather bake than cook, she listens to music entirely too loud, and loves writing stories her children will never read. Her husband and children are her greatest loves, with cupcakes coming in at a close second. J grew up in Baltimore and resides in Maryland with her family. Sign up to receive her newsletter and get special offers and exclusive release info: http://authorjdaniels.com/newsletter/ Twitter | Instagram | Website | Facebook | Amazon Author Page |Goodreads | Reader’s Group