by Cathryn Fox
End Zone, #1
Publication Date: May 4, 2021
Genres: New Adult, Sports, Romance, Contemporary, Romance
The ultimate bad boy every girl wants.
His world at Kinston College is full of parties, booze and sex. The opposite of mine.
I’m the quiet twin he never knew existed, until he heard a lie—I hated him.
Maybe that’s why he pursued me—why I became his obsession. It’s all about the chase, right?
I can’t deny that I like the attention. That my body burns for him. I shouldn’t crave him. I hate that I do. We don’t belong together.
That should have been enough to stop me from sneaking into his room, from teasing a thirst I just can’t quench…because once the hunt is over, it’s ALL over.
Unless he never knew it was me…
“You should come to the party tonight.” He gestures to the field with a nod.
Holy shit, no. He is definitely barking up the wrong tree here. I am not one of his groupies, bunnies, cleat chasers, or whatever the hell they call women who sleep with footballers. Wait! My brain takes a moment to catch up, alerting me that the guy everyone calls torpedo—and not just because he’s lightning fast—invited me to a party. Did I just enter the twilight zone or something? I think I might have heard him wrong.
“I’m busy,” I say.
This time his smile is cocky, full of brazen confidence, and I get it. I really do. I get why women hand their panties over. “Come on, you can’t be too busy to celebrate our win?”
“Pretty sure of yourself,” I say in a bored voice, even though there’s a storm going on inside me.
He cocks his head. “Attitude is half the battle, don’t you think?”
“You don’t want to know what I think,” I mumble.
He grins, and despite myself, my stupid lips twitch. God, why am I acting like a dim-witted moth around him? Yes, he’s a shining star and has his own gravitational pull, but I am not into egotistical football players. My only goal is to keep my head down, finish my degree and get a job in Hollywood. Why I’m suddenly on this guy’s radar is beyond me. Did he lose a bet or something? Have to talk to the nerdy girl? If not, and if there’s something about me that appeals to him, he should go after my twin Ivy.
“Her name is Ella,” Peyton says. “She’ll be at that party.”
I spin, and give my former best friend the death glare. She studies her nails, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. From across the field, a whistle blows, and I nearly jump ten feet in the air when a big, strong hand lands on my arm. I spin to face Landon, and he snatches his hand back.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to touch without permission.” He holds both hands up, palms out. “I just ah, I gotta go. Coach is calling.” He pauses for a brief second.
“What?” I ask as I reposition myself at the camcorder and reach for the record button. Wait, why is it on? Rattled, and pretending not to be, as Landon continues to stand there, six feet of sex in a football outfit, looming over my small frame, I flick the record button off, and close my eyes, hoping when I open them again, he’ll be gone.
“Aren’t you going to say good luck?”
Nope not gone, and goddamn that cocky grin of his. I’m going to give my traitorous body—one spot in particular—a good hard lecture when we get home. With my vibrator.
“Good luck,” I murmur, sounding uninterested.
He backs up an inch and I can almost fully refill my lungs again. “See you tonight, Ella.”
“Not going to be there,” I say.
He pauses and I sigh as I look at him. Why won’t he leave already?
“How about this? If I score a touchdown, you come, if I don’t…then it’s my loss. In more ways than one.”
His loss? Okay, I really am in some alternate universe. Football players do not flirt with me, and that’s the way I like it.
“Why would I bargain with you? What could possibly be in it for me?”
“Come tonight.” He flashes perfect white teeth. “Find out.”
“We’ll be there,” Peyton says, finality in her tone, letting us both know it’s going to happen and the conversation is over.
“We will not be there,” I clarify through clenched teeth. We have a better chance of getting snow in Southern California this late September evening. Not. Going. To. Happen.
“See you tonight, Peyton,” Landon says. “See you too, Ella.” He points to the camera. “Now you’d better press record. You don’t want to miss my touchdown.”
My God, could the guy be any hotter…I mean, cockier. Yeah, cockier, that’s what I meant. The guy is not hot. Nope not hot at all.
ABOUT CATHRYN FOX
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Cathryn Fox is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and red wine. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cathryn can never find balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books that her readers will love.
Cathryn also writes New Adult Paranormal under Cat Kalen.