Becca Seymour's Blog, page 4
October 17, 2022
Chapter One - No Wrong Moves
At some point I’d look away and stop stealing second glances at Pearce talking to the dark-haired guy. If Pearce wanted to hook up, it was his prerogative. Hell, it was the reason why whenever I headed into Minneapolis to take in one of his home games, I generally stayed in a hotel.
The last thing I wanted was to stop my friend’s ability to get laid. It didn’t matter that even the thought made my stomach curdle, a reaction I was used to but doggedly ignored and denied.
A text alert caught my attention. Probably a good thing, as the hot guy cozying up with Pearce had placed a hand on his forearm. While it was simple, seemingly innocent contact, they were just a few beats away from making out.
Shaking my head at my ridiculousness, I checked my phone, in case it was from my daughter. Not that she should be anywhere near her phone at this time of night, but still. I sighed when I saw Wayne’s name. Not the best reaction to receiving a message from the guy I was supposedly dating, but he acted ridiculously assholishly whenever I left town to watch one of Pearce’s games.
It didn’t matter that nothing ever had happened between me and Pearce. Not only was he my best friend, but he was too young for my old ass.
I rolled my eyes when I read the question asking if I was still out.
“Who’s that from?”
I jerked as heat pressed against my side with the appearance of Pearce. Flicking my gaze in the direction of where he’d been flirting with the hot guy, I frowned when the brown-haired man was no longer in sight. “Huh?” I angled to look at him. With Pearce sitting so close, it was hard to get a full read of his expression, but apparently he found my confusion amusing.
“Why are you sitting here texting rather than dancing?”
With a tilt of my chin, I shot my right brow high. Pearce knew full well I didn’t dance. “I’m not texting. Was just checking my phone and making sure it wasn’t Lottie.” At the mention of my girl’s name, Pearce’s gaze softened.
“She okay?” The lilt of concern tickled my chest, just like it always did when he got all soft and sweet about my daughter.
“It wasn’t her, and she better be tucked up fast asleep in bed.” She was staying at one of her friends’ house tonight. Thank Christ for that collection of moms who always put their hands up for sleepovers. I wouldn’t be here without that special breed of parent.
He bobbed his head and shifted on the booth seat to see me more fully. “So who had you frowning? Has Wayne got lice again? Good of him to give you a heads-up.”
I worked hard not to laugh, but I couldn’t stop the slight twitching of my lips. Wayne and Pearce had a love-hate relationship. In as much as they loved to hate each other. From the day they’d met, Wayne was suspicious about my friendship with Pearce. He couldn’t understand why I was best friends with someone so much younger than me, for a start. There was no doubt jealousy there too. Not only was Pearce underwear-model-material smoking hot—his deal with CK gave him that status—but he was at the top of his basketball career. Tonight’s incredible game being no exception.
And Pearce. Well, his dislike for Wayne stemmed from his argument that he didn’t think Wayne was good enough for me, and by association Lottie. His feelings for me may have something to do with his animosity too, but for my own sanity, it was best not to think about that.
“He’s just checking in, making sure I’m having a good time,” I lied. It wasn’t like I was protecting Wayne; rather, I didn’t want to be talking about him on my night away from reality.
Pearce’s snort made it clear he wasn’t buying it. “Tonight’s screw must have been a disappointment if he’s up in your business.”
I winced, hating that he was probably right.
“Shit,” he was quick to say. “You know I’m being an asshat. I’m sorry, yeah?” He reached out and squeezed my knee, gaze raking over my face.
I forced a smile, not wanting to get into this with him. Wayne wasn’t cheating. His announcement that he wanted an open relationship a while back prevented that. And at the end of the day, for all my ill-thought-out reactions, I’d agreed. In this scenario, I was the chump who didn’t want the drama of ending a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. “It’s fine. Or it will be when another beer appears in my hand.”
For a moment, it didn’t seem like Pearce was going to let it go, which he usually didn’t, but whatever he read on my face had him pulling his lips between his teeth. With a huff of breath, his shoulders relaxed. “I can do that, but get your ass up and join me at the bar.”
An easy smile formed on my mouth. “Shift your butt, then.”
He scooted out of the booth, and I followed, hot on his heels. It had been a while since we’d had drinks with his teammates after a game—the two of us usually slipped away for a quiet dinner and a few beers. That sounded way more couple-y than it was, but I liked spending time with him, a lot. Did that mean I monopolized his time when I had the chance? Damn straight. I was the first person to call myself out for being a selfish asshole.
When we reached the bar, we stopped next to a few of his teammates. They were laughing and talking about something or other Cassius had said or done.
“—lit up like the fourth of July.” Cassius grinned and bounced his brows. “Fucking spectacular.”
A couple of the guys snorted while Ollie, the Eagles’ captain, rolled his eyes. “One of these times you’re going to land your ass in jail and get benched.”
“Ollie,” Cassius answered with a shake of his head, “I’ve talked myself out of so much shit I should have been locked away for. Fireworks in my high school coach’s office was nothing.”
“Dear God,” Ollie groaned, “for the love of all that is holy, do not do that to Coach Jenkins.”
“Me?” Cassius even pressed his hand to his chest and widened his eyes for good measure. “I like my balls attached to my body, fuck you very much. Coach would cut them off if I pulled any of that shit.”
“I’d pass him the tweezers and the itty-bitty blade to help,” Pearce said from my side. The group laughed, and Cassius flipped him off.
“Fuck you, Malcolm. Whatever size blade veterinarians use for an elephant or whatever would be the only blade that could cut it.”
Pearce’s barb was instant. “Damn, is that why you’re still not able to do a slam dunk after all this time? Your oversized balls? Shit, Cass, maybe it’s time we intervene and organize a medical consult for you.”
“Whatever, man. My balls are perfect specimens. I’m thinking about getting them insured.”
“Fucking hell.” Ollie wiped a hand over his face, then met my gaze. “Bet you’re wishing you’d hermitted our boy away tonight rather than dealing with these dicks.” He followed up with an amused smile.
Ignoring how it most definitely hadn’t gone unnoticed by Pearce’s team that I did tend to steal their teammate away after a game, I returned his smile. “It’s a healthy reminder of what I’m missing out on.”
“Missing out on?” Ollie raised his brows, smirking. “More like a ‘thank fuck this part of your life is over.’”
I snorted. “Well, I don’t miss having a coach ride my ass or—”
“Who’s riding your ass?” Pearce’s bicep pressed against mine. Whether he was aware or not, when we were together, he was tactile… seriously so. Not that it was a hardship. At some point over the past five years, he’d used his voodoo skills and trained me to not only crave his touches, but damn if he hadn’t gone and trained me to do the same thing with him, and only him.
“Not you,” Cassius spat, laughing loudly, while I snorted good-naturedly, trying not to think about what it would be like for Pearce to ride my ass.
Pearce flipped his friend off.
“Talking of riding asses, what happened to that guy who was rubbing up all over you?” Cassius pushed. I’d been thinking the same thing, despite the curdling in my stomach.
“He wasn’t rubbing up all over me. Not sure what skanks you’re getting with, but that’s not for me,” Pearce fired back, voice light and breezy.
I frowned and risked a glance at him, noticing pink in his cheeks that belied just how carefree he’d attempted to sound.
“Since when?” Cassius challenged. “And dude, no skank shaming.”
A laugh rumbled out of Pearce, and he raised his hands. “My bad. There’s nothing wrong with skanks.” He cleared his throat before saying, “I was just talking to the guy is all. He’s a fan.”
Innuendo dripped off Cassius’s words when he said, “I just bet he is.” He then made a show of looking around before settling his attention back on Pearce. “Actually, where’s your usual hookup?”
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly who Pearce’s “usual hookup” was. He actually seemed like a decent guy. Not that I wanted to hang out with the reporter, especially if he was getting it on with Pearce.
Fuck, I hated being such a double-standard dick, but Pearce and I didn’t get together half as much as I liked—living states apart made that hard—which meant when we did, I wanted him all to myself. Seriously, referring to myself as a selfish prick was just the tip of the iceberg.
“How should I know?” Pearce said, arm still pressed against mine. “I haven’t seen him for a while. Well, not seen himseen him.”
This was news to me. Not that we discussed his hookup or Wayne all that much. We had a mutual unspoken rule about not talking about other men. It didn’t mean I wasn’t morbidly curious, though.
“Huh” came from Cassius, and I didn’t miss the flash of something—a warning maybe—Pearce shot his way.
The bartender appeared before us and took our order. While we waited, I nudged Pearce. “You good?” I couldn’t help but feel like I’d missed something in all that.
He angled toward me, resting a forearm on the bar. “A win and a beer with my best bud? Hell yes. Of course I’m okay.” With nothing but sincerity in his gaze or his tone, I relaxed. He didn’t look put out over not hooking up with that guy. “You okay staying for this, then heading out?”
“We can stay if you want to hang with your team.” I could be magnanimous when I wanted to be.
“I’d prefer to catch up with you instead. You not getting in till this afternoon meant we missed out on last night’s slumber party.”
I snorted. “You’re such a dickhead. But yeah, having to meet today with the foundation was important, but I would have appreciated it a whole lot more if it had been another day.”
He bobbed his head and took a pull of his drink. “How is everything with the foundation?”
“Going great. Pride Youth is going strong. We’ve got more sponsorships and have finalized a visit to the summer academy again.” I’d been involved in the LGBTQ+ youth foundation going on seven years, having first met one of the foundation’s directors when doing a stint at Montview during the elite basketball training camp.
“Excellent. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
Warmth flooded me at his offer. “You already do plenty.” It was true. Since his first season at Montview as a guest trainer five years ago, not only had he been offered a regular seasonal spot, but he’d also involved himself in Pride Youth when he’d discovered my connection.
“I do a bit, but you know if I can, I’ll always do more.”
I leaned against him at the bar, nudging him gently, giving him my silent thanks. What continued to amaze me was that while he could easily write a check for them, he preferred being actively involved.
Pearce sure did tend to go all in when invested.
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October 11, 2022
No Take Backs -- First Time Sale!
*****
"Wonderful story full of emotion. I loved everything about this book." - Amazon Review
*****
"This was such a sweet reunion and hopeful story that grabbed me and kept me reading..." - AvidReader4Ever
*****
"This is a book that will allow you to smile the entire way through!" - Amazon Review The sale ends October 17th.
September 20, 2022
Cover Love
It's finally time to share with you all the cover for No Wrong Moves, just a little ahead of schedule. BookSmith Design, as always, has done a killer job at capturing the sweet, pining deliciousness of my gorgeous basketball star Pearce.
Isn't he swoon-worthy?!
I was so excited to return to Minnesota Eagles and the wonderful players. It's been such a fun series to write. The awesome news is, there will definitely be at least one more book in the series. When you've read Pearce and Eddie's book, you'll absolutely understand why when you meet one bold, brash and ridiculous character.
In Pearce and Eddie's book, you'll swoon, fall in love, embrace the pining, and actively cheer for their happily ever after. They're such good guys and deserve so much love.
Get ready to swoon!
September 1, 2022
First Look Blurb - No Wrong Moves
I have been desperate to share with you more about Pearce's story, the loveable basketball player we first met in Sutton and Jayden's book, No More Secrets. So finally, you all get to read the blurb first. Yippee!
I love Pearce and Eddie so much. Seriously, these men are so adorable and fun, and for the love of tropes! No Wrong Moves ticks so many trope-y boxes.
Best friends to lovers. Check.
Single dad. Check.
Age gap. Double check.
Pining. Holy moly, this book has it in spades.
Anyhow, here's the blurb. I hope you're excited to meet them (much sooner than the current Nov 9th release date!)
BlurbPining for your best friend sucks ass—and not the good kind of sucking. But I can’t back away, and I definitely can’t let go. Eddie Phelps is too damn important to me. He has my heart and soul. Well, he and his daughter, a ten-year-old who one day will run the world.
It’s not like I can even blame Eddie for mixed signals or anything. He’s done everything right. He always does. Honestly, that’s part of his problem.
But I won’t put pressure on him. That means it’s down to Eddie to see how freakin’ awesome a catch I am. I just have no idea how exactly I’ll get him to do that.
Sure, I’m a professional basketball player. But once upon a time, so was he. It’s going to take something huge to get him to see beyond my age *cough immaturity cough*. But since Eddie isn’t one for making wrong moves, I’m not sure a grand gesture will work.
That leads me back to pining, and hoping somehow, someway, he’ll see me as more than a joker. More than his best friend—even though I’m a kickass one. Maybe someday, he’ll know I’m exactly the person he needs to make the move on.
June 16, 2022
Rules, Schmules! Chapter One Tease
Switching colleges the summer before my junior year sucked hairy balls. You know, the kind with hair that is wiry, rough to touch, and escapes too easily so gets caught between your teeth? Yeah, those ones.
But heading to Brixham University in a small-ass town not too far out of Atlanta was a necessary evil. Not that I’m overly dramatic with the whole “evil” concept, but still, back in LA, I’d been comfortable, happy with my classes, my friends, and close enough to my kid brother to keep an eye on him but have my freedom.
Three weeks at my new school, and it’s a struggle to feel settled. That hasn’t stopped me from dressing and behaving however I wish. Screw that. What it does mean is I’m rolling my eyes so often I’m worried about RSI in my eyeballs. Not that anyone has come out and said anything derogatory, but since I grew up in a blip of a community not so dissimilar to this one, I hate to admit I expect some sort of homophobic derision.
So yeah, feeling like I have to stay on guard sucks those furry balls.
But at least I have Lester and Simone, my two newfound friends I’ve been lucky enough to attach myself to. There’s also my mom and my brother, Zeke, the two people I love most in the world and the reason I left LA in the first place. There wasn’t a chance I couldn’t be close by to Zeke.
“Did you read the email from Professor Henderson about the group project?” Simone speaks into her handheld mirror while applying extra eyeliner.
I squint at the bright blue she’s penciling on, not quite sure it’s her color, but with the way she blinks and grins at her reflection, she’s clearly happy, so I sensibly keep my mouth shut. “I did,” I grumble. “Does he usually add such limitations?”
“He did something similar last year, so I suppose, yeah.”
“And we really can’t request who we’re grouped with?”
Simone shakes her head, her platinum-blonde curls bouncing with the movement. “Nope. He’s a little old-school. We just have to suck it up.”
“Figured.” While the group project doesn’t sound overly complicated, the class is big and filled with such a range of students that the likelihood of me being stuck with at least one person who’s a pain in the ass, if not a slacker or possibly an asshole, is high.
It’s hard to not embrace the negative Nelly in me, but with my reluctant, albeit sensible move to be closer to my mom and my fifteen-year-old brother, being super upbeat seems impossible. Sure, I make an effort, honest, but I can’t be “on” all the time, you know?
Not that I blame either of them for the move; it was my choice, after all. And Mom being evicted from their rental as the owners were selling was hardly her choice. What neither Zeke nor I expected was her to move halfway across the country for a new job and more affordable accommodation. I understand, though.
But more than that, and the truth of my move, is affording to live in LA, and attend school there, became exponentially more difficult. Adulting is hard, people. For real. Making the sensible decisions, not being in a mountain of debt when the reality is post-college I’ll have a shitty teacher’s salary, well, yeah… moving ended up being the logical thing to do.
Doesn’t mean I can’t pout or kick the sand about the change, though.
I am super grateful Brixham U offered me a partial scholarship—something I never had in LA. Plus they were awesome about transferring my credits. I seriously lucked out.
But the last couple of months with the move have been stressful, and finally with Zeke settled, I’m able to allow myself a few moments of feeling sorry for myself for leaving my friends and my regular hookups behind.
Yeah, yeah, I’m all woe is me, and these are totally first world problems.
“You may be grouped with someone great, Dean.” Simone eyes me and bobs her thick brows, adding, “Or someone hot.”
I snort. Chance would be a fine thing. I may have noticed a sexy guy or five on campus, but I have a terrible weakness for athletes. And in my experience, jocks don’t take kindly to being crushed on by five-foot-seven twinks who wear mascara and like to top. Such a jock is my unicorn. Add in a guy who’s genuinely smart and, heaven forbid, has a sense of humor, and perhaps I need to think of something more fantastical than a unicorn to compare my ideal man to.
A griffin maybe. Or a dragon.
“Come on. Let’s pack up, drop our bags in my room, and head to Jack’s party.” Simone puts away her mirror and indicates for me to get my ass into gear.
“A couple of drinks would help me relax,” I admit, pushing aside my athlete fantasies. I know better than to dive headfirst into such impossible dreams.
“That’s the spirit. Did you tell your mom you’re going to be MIA tonight?”
“Yeah.” And don’t I feel and sound like a dork with that answer? I set about packing away my laptop and handwritten notes. “I managed to catch up with her this morning before her shift at the hospital.” With my mom doing extra shifts as a nurse at the hospital in the slightly larger town about twenty miles away from campus, I’ve tried my hardest to select courses that will give me enough time to easily commute and spend with Zeke so he’s not home alone too often.
A few weeks in, and it’s working so far. It’s still a shock to the system no longer living on campus and having the freedom of my own space, but not spending the extra cash is a blessing. Plus there’s the reassurance of seeing Zeke for myself and making sure he really is as okay as he professes to be.
“Remind me if there’s a reason this Jack is having a party again.” I have no idea who Jack is. While Brixham U is nowhere near the size of my old college, it’s a big enough place to get lost in. Well, for maybe ten minutes before you spot someone you’ve seen at least once before.
“It’s Friday night.” She follows up with a wink and stands.
I chuckle as we leave the quiet library together. Unsurprisingly, it’s all but empty since it’s close to nine on a Friday night. Stepping outside into the dark, I peer up, marveling at the stars not made invisible by smog or light.
“You’re doing it again.” Amusement lifts Simone’s words.
“And I’m not sorry.” I grin, not looking away from the inky blackness and twinkling stars. “This is one thing I love about being out here. Far enough away from the city not to be doused in fumes.”
“Hey,” she jeers, nudging me. “One thing? I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I better rank high on that list of yours.”
I pull my attention away from the sky and to her, still smiling. “You do. You may even rank number one if you make sure a red cup is in my hand within the next forty minutes.”
“Done.” With a tug on my arm, she leads the way to the small house she shares with a couple of other students just off campus. Once there, I wash up, put on a fresh spray of deodorant, and after a swipe of mascara, I call myself done.
I’m not in the mood to get dressed up. My jeans, slim-fit tee, and hoodie featuring a small rainbow and stating boldly Queer AF are good enough. While I like my eyes to pop a little, beyond a hilarious array of T-shirts and hoodies, I live in my jeans and Converse.
Despite Simone’s questionable eye makeup choices, she’s fairly low-key too so doesn’t take long to get ready, and with ten minutes to spare, we’re at Jack’s, where she fills a Solo cup with beer, places it in my hand, taps her own against mine, and winks. “And relax,” she orders.
I take a healthy gulp and sigh contently at the crisp flavor. I’m far from a big drinker, mostly because never in a million years growing up could I get away with passing for older than I was. It meant I relied heavily on my friends and parties just like this to give me a taste and help me unwind enough that, for just a little while, I can behave like a twenty-one-year-old.
“You finished that fast.” Simone draws my focus to her wide eyes. A frown pulls her brows low. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Was just thirsty,” I lie, not even realizing I downed the drink, too lost in my woe-is-me thoughts. “I’m going to get another. You want one?”
She studies me for a beat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just wait over there. I see my friend Tammy.” I follow her line of sight so I’ll know where to find her among the growing crowd.
“Sounds good.” I head off, reminding myself to sip the next drink. I have work tomorrow at the diner. Locating the beer, I smile at a pretty blonde who’s pouring a drink from the keg.
“You having one?” she asks, her gaze floating down to take in the writing on my hoodie before she makes eye contact again.
“Yeah. Well, two actually.”
She nods and passes me the filled cup. “Take this, and I’ll get you one more.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” She pours away. “You’re the guy who recently transferred from LA, right? Lester’s friend?”
My brows lift in surprise. “You know Lester?”
She chuckles. “I’m his cousin.”
“Oh wow, this really is a small town,” I tease. “Please tell me there’s a whole clan of you on campus so I can make hilariously bad jokes and tease Lester mercilessly.”
She passes me another filled cup, grinning. “Afraid not. Just the two of us. Name’s Lana.”
I nod at her in greeting. “Dean.” I tilt my head. “What gave me away that I’m Lester’s friend? My dreamy good looks and wicked dress sense?”
She chuckles. “Well, that, and Lester was showing me a couple of photos of his art project, and we swiped through to a few of you guys.”
“Lester does like selfies.”
She laughs loudly. “Right. His phone’s practically a permanent extension of his hand. Are you—”
Her words are cut off by loud shouts and laughter as a group of guys pours into the house. I angle to observe them, taking in their laughter, their clothes, their physiques.
Basketball players.
I can sniff out an athlete and identify their sport with a 95 percent accuracy. Legit, I tested myself both in high school and college.
“Looks like the Bears won their game.”
I return my attention to Lana. “Basketball?”
“Yeah.”
I give myself a mental pat on the back. At this rate, my accuracy rating is going to rise. Turning my attention back to the incoming players, I take my fill like the sucker for sexy forearms and built biceps I am. Damn, there are fine specimens on the team. I also know the season doesn’t officially start for another month, so I’m assuming they’re having friendly games with other colleges in the state.
“You follow basketball?” Lana draws my attention back to her.
“Go Eagles!” I smirk.
She chuckles again. “I’m a Pandas fan myself, but I can understand the draw to the Eagles.” Her wink is less than subtle.
With a snort, I nod. “Right. Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely love the game, but Minnesota knows how to seduce the hot-as-Hades players to join their team. I suppose it makes up for the less-than-stellar couple of years and the injuries they’ve been having.”
“I often take in a school game if ever you’re up for it. The team was away today, but they’re at home next Thursday if you want to come. It’s only against the Marlins and not for points, but it should still be a decent game.”
I force myself to focus on Lana rather than take my fill of the eye candy who’ve since spilled through the house, some heading in our direction, no doubt seeking a drink. “I’d like that, thanks. Simone and Lester aren’t sports fan—” I grunt and lurch forward, my drink sloshing and spilling on my hoodie. “Fuck.”
“Shit, sorry, man.”
Scowling, I shift my gaze to the six-foot-whatever beast of a guy peering down at me and not looking overly apologetic at all. I offer a tight smile and fight hard to keep my mouth shut. I refuse to say it’s okay, as hello, beer on my awesome hoodie, but there’s no point challenging him. Turning my back on the guy, I focus on Lana and roll my eyes.
“Hey, I said I was sorry. No need to be a dick.”
With my stomach plummeting, I shake my head. Hearing murmured words, I refuse to look back. My buzz is already on the way to being ruined.
“What?” the same voice says, clearly responding to the lower voice with words I can’t catch. “Whatever, man. I just need a beer and then I can get away from guys with sticks up their asses.”
Heat hits my cheeks, and my gaze connects with Lana’s. Her brows shoot high as her focus drifts from me to the people behind me. When a toned arm appears over my shoulder, reaching for the stack of cups before me, I snap, “The fuck. Rude much?” I spin on my heels and am greeted with a gray T-shirt straining over a broad chest not concealed by the unzipped college hoodie he’s wearing. The guy lifts his hands immediately, palms open.
“Sorry. Just trying to get a cup so I can get a drink and shut my friend up.”
“By being in my space?” I finally meet his gaze after a slow trail up to the face. Holy shit, he’s fucking handsome and has the prettiest deep brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Rather than panting, I manage to keep my scowl in place.
I know guys like this, thinking they can do whatever they want with no consequences.
He shrugs, nothing but sarcasm in his voice when he says, “Sorry. I just thought you’d want my friend, who bumped into you by total accident, by the way, out of your hair. I was trying to be a good guy.”
I quirk my brow, if only to give myself an extra moment to not start salivating or rubbing up on the man. While he’s behaving like an arrogant jerk like most players I’ve known over the years, it doesn’t mean he’s not devastatingly gorgeous. “Perhaps next time use your words. If that’s at all possible for that pea-sized jock brain of yours,” I sass, my bitchiness front and center, having no patience for anyone using either their size or status to behave like an asshat.
Surprise registers on his features for the briefest of moments before he narrows his gaze. “No need to be a jerk about it.”
In response, I turn my back to him, pour myself a fresh drink, and indicate to Lana I’m leaving.
She nods, her expression startled and still bouncing from me and then over my shoulder. “Dean, hold up. I’ll come.”
I smile, no longer quite sure if the guy and his clumsy friend are who I’ll be supporting if I take in a basketball game. I turn, the guy with the pretty eyes still in my space. “You wanna move so I can leave you to get a drink you so desperately want, please?” Proud as punch I remembered my manners, I even add a tight smile.
He takes a step back, narrowed eyes drifting down to my hoodie before meeting my gaze. “Nice hoodie.”
I clench my jaw, certain he’s being a sarcastic prick, and leave to find Simone.
As soon as we’re out of earshot, Lana grabs my arm and leans in. “Holy shit, that was Kieran Kendall.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“He’s the Bears’ captain, their star player.”
I snort. “Figures. It explains why he thinks he can be rude, leaning over me like that.” While I’m not the shortest guy in the world, I’ve been told more than once, often loudly, that I’m petite and cute. Sounds nice, right? Those descriptors? Yeah, they can be, unless it’s with dripping derision, as though being a little shorter than average is something I should be ashamed of. Screw that, fuck you very much.
I’m perfectly compact and just the right side of fabulous. I promise I’m not completely egotistical either. But seriously, ego is my armor, as well as my long lashes and my snippy mouth.
We stop near a wall and angle to take in the rest of the room.
“He’s usually really decent and down-to-earth. I’ve never known him like that before.”
I sigh. It seems I have a gift for bringing out the asshole in people. “Lucky me.” I hate that I’m shaken and frustrated. What’s also pissing me off? How freakin’ hot the guy is.
She nudges me. “Don’t sweat it. Focus on having a few drinks and having a good night.”
“Now that I can do.” I bring my red cup to my mouth and take a large gulp, peering around to track down Simone. I need to unwind after that encounter. Maybe I overreacted—probably… maybe—but defensive, remember?
Kieran Kendall isn’t someone I need to be worried about. We clearly don’t run in the same circles. Nor can I imagine being in any of the same classes. Athletes are known for general studies, right? Shh, I know I’m being totally judgmental, but the dude deserves it. I can begrudgingly admire him from afar when he’s on the court. Well, if he proves he really is a god on the basketball court. Admittedly, I’m interested to see for myself if that’s true. Purely for my love of the game, of course.
© Becca Seymour | 2022
May 30, 2022
10 Things You Really Didn’t Need to Know About Me
Sometimes it’s the smallest, most insignificant, or admittedly the most tedious detail about a person that can tell you so much about them. Either that or you fall off in the midst of these existing new discoveries, never to discover the strange or unexpected. Or more likely the damn right uninteresting. Alas, whatever your take, I will share the legit “10 Things You Really Didn’t Need to Know About Me” title and run with it.
#1 – A party trick of mine is to lift my eyelids and roll my eyes so only the whites are shown. Yes, I’m special and uniquely me. I can be hired to scare young children in exchange for a bottle of wine.
#2 – I used to be in Dolly Parton’s fan club and dreamed as a kid to visit Dollywood. Alas, that dream never came true. I actually had a single ticket—yep, legit I was going by myself— to her concert in Australia a few years ago. I ended up having to sell the ticket since I visited my parents who lived in the UK at the time. I still lay the guilt on thick to my parents at every opportunity, letting them know clearly how fabulous I am to have given up my Dolly experience.
#3 – I have twin toes. I want to add on my feet, but that (I hope) is pretty obvious so I won’t. I have nothing more to add.
#4 – I once, and to be clear BY COMPLETE ACCIDENT, microwaved a gecko. I legit felt ill when I realised. My son now takes great delight in calling me a compilation of names. The Gecko Destroyer being one of his favourites.
#5 – I have OCD when it comes to lining up drink glasses in our kitchen cupboard. But only with the glass tumblers. They have to be the same design in a row and in a neat line. When my kiddo is unloading the dishwasher, he takes delight in putting them in the “wrong” place.
#6 – I am a stickler for manners and common courtesy. I’m that person who shouts out “You’re welcome” when I hold a door open for someone or move to the side for them and they don’t say thank you.
#7 – I have a small obsession with mermaids. No story, no weirdness except for a fortysomething-year-old woman liking mermaids. Lol.
#8 – I don’t iron. I want to say ever, but sometimes, maybe once or twice a year, I have to dust off the iron to use it. About nine years ago we were in severe floods and lost almost everything. It took me a year to realise we no longer owned an ironing board.
#9 – Cutlery rubbing together goes through me. I shudder, and my mouth fills with saliva as though I’m going to barf. This loops us back to me being special.
#10 – I have milk-bottle-white skin. I look at the sun and it attacks me. Factor 50+ is my friend and lasts about 45 minutes. I sometimes scratch my head and wonder why I moved to Queensland, Australia.
I hope you made it to the end and can agree that your life is absolutely no better to have absorbed this joyous information about me.
May 25, 2022
Cover Reveal Love
I'm so thrilled to share with you all the cover for Rules, Schmules! BookSmith Design, as always has done a killer job at capturing not only the feel of the book, but Kieran, my gorgeous college basketball star too.
Isn't he just divine?!
I had so much fun writing my first college romance, and with today's reveal, it means you're all a step closer to being able to get up close and personal with Dean and Kieran--the adorable couple who we met in No Take Backs when my guys visited Mexico.
This loveliness is their origin story. How they met. How they clashed. And how they fell in love.
Get ready to swoon!
March 15, 2022
Sale & Book News
High Alert is a pretty fabulous Aussie small-town romance, and one that really hits the mark considering the most recent flooding event Mother Nature has thrown Australia's way. For those of you who don't follow me on Facebook, you may not know my local town in Gympie, which was hit hard. Honestly, the flooding has been [...]
March 13, 2022
No More Secrets: Sneak Peek Prologue
Prologue Sutton A Few Months Back The flashes of the cameras were blinding. Add in the chorus of cheers and some chants, and the atmosphere was electric. I hugged my friend Ryan close, saying, “We’ve got you, man,” then moved on to embrace his boyfriend, Nate. Both were overwhelmed but clearly trying to keep themselves [...]
October 12, 2021
No Take Backs: Sneak Peek Prologue 1
PrologueNate GriffinAge 17 Me: What did McCormack want?For thirty long minutes, the buttwipe didn’t respond. I watched my mobile, willing him to answer. I would have hung around after school to find out for myself, but Dad would have gone off at me if I’d shown up late for my shift at our family farm [...]
