THE LOCKER ROOM (Getting Lucky #1) by Meghan Quinn
Release Date: June 20th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2In9iDF
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2Rk4z8v
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2Rhp9GA
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2WNi2H5
Have you heard the rumor around campus about the locker room?
If you haven't, let me enlighten you: Legend has it if you bring a girl into the sacred after-game domain of the baseball locker room, it will end with a walk down the aisle. One rowdy and naked encounter against the lockers with the girl of your dreams will make her your wife.
Translation: baseball players are stupidly superstitious and believe the locker room has magical powers.
But not all baseball players are superstitious, me included.
So when the girl I've fallen for brushes me off, I start to question if I need to switch my way of thinking. Maybe it's time I finally hand out a coveted invitation to the locker room.
The only question is, will she accept?
Before I started this book all I knew was that it was set in college and it was a sports romance. Meghan has written a multi-layered book. It has the humour I expected but the heartbreak i felt took me by surprise. Knox Gentey met Emory Ealson and fell hard. I just love when a man does all the pursuing. Even when he messed up I couldn't help but laugh at him, he's just adorable. Their relationship was sweet fun and romantic, he was just the perfect boyfriend. Ealson is a girl I could be friends with she's sweet and quirky I loved her. The only downside for me was the ending happened too quickly I would have liked it better if that part had been expanded on.
reviewed by Sweet Spot Sisterhood
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Have you ever met someone and been completely taken in by them but then they open their mouth and it's straight to @sshole zone. Not friend zone, friends with benefits zone, or even right now- No, I mean smack this @sshhole upside the head and plot his death zone. Just me!?! Then you haven't met Jase, or his best friends Cam and Asher.
I can honestly say without a shadow of a doubt that your opinion will change. 100% guaranteed. The Trouble With You is a fun push and pull enemies to lovers adventure. By adventure, I mean ups, downs, and sideways movements and even a hit that feels like you were pushed off a cliff.
Rixon Raiders rule the roost in this sports-obsessed town where football is king. The players are gods. Everyone else is there for servitude. Except for the one girl with a front row seat to trouble!
Hailee has never been a fan. She has no desire to be a part of that world. High school is almost done. She just needs to get through this year. Just needs...Yeah,about that, it might be easier if her stepbrother wasn't the head of the god squad. If QB1 didn't live in the same house and live to make her existence that much more difficult.
If, if ,if...
Time is wasted on ifs. She can't lose him and she sure won't join him. Hailee is stubbrn and will not go down without a fight. The question is who is she really fighting? The pranks are getting out of hand and now the consequences are very real.
The Trouble With You is fiction with a lot of reality. It's not your sweet saccharine tale. No it's a teeth gnashing, tongue biting, knock down drag out romp. So dust off your dancing shoes and get your homecoming speech ready because the Raiders are here.
I'll be over in the corner sneaking longing glances at football hotties while silently judging the horny girls throwing themselves at them. Ah, the sweet smell of pheromones and teenage angst, nothing but the best from LA Cotton.
reviewed by Sweet Spot Sisterhood
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This map is useless.
Easy to read, my ass. I need a magnifying glass to make out any of the color-coded buildings on this thing and unfortunately, I left my magnifying glass in my other skirt. That was sarcasm, if you didn’t catch it.
Standing next to a wonky-looking tree, I try to act as casual as possible—hip popped out, interested glances, the usual—as I hide a school map beneath the pages of Pride and Prejudice , while off-handedly looking for the MacMillan building. But the wind—though subtle—isn’t making things easy.
Recently transferred from Cal State, Fullerton, I’m attempting to avoid making a fool of myself on the first day of fall classes at my new school, Brentwood University.
Unfortunately, I’m way out of my element.
For one, I know nothing about this school other than they have the best library sciences program in the country. Making the transfer a no-brainer for me the minute I realized I wanted to be a librarian. I dabbled in business at Cal State, but who was I kidding? I had no right trying to figure out micro-and macroeconomics.
A California girl through and through, Illinois is nothing like the palm trees and beaches I’ve grown up with. Don’t get me wrong, there are trees here, huge, plush, green trees everywhere, the kind of trees Bob Ross made dance on his canvas. But the smog . . . I have no idea where that is. Breathing fresh air almost feels wrong. And apparently pizza is a big deal here. I’ve heard at least three separate arguments since I’ve moved about which pizza in town is best. Let’s all be friends and be grateful there is good pizza here.
And even though this is a “small” school town outside Chicago, it’s larger than life with boisterous personalities and ivy-covered buildings that cause me to believe I’m walking on the hallowed grounds where the prosperous were educated.
Plus, I had to buy leggings for all my skirts, because the temperature doesn’t call for bare legs out here.
The wind picks up again, lifting my skirt and map at the same time. Not wanting to be known as the resident flasher on campus, I save the skirt—because even though I have leggings, I chose not to wear them today—and tamp it back down on my legs as the map lifts from my book, floats into the air, twirling and swirling only to smack a passing guy right in the face.
“What the—?” He startles and I jump into action.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, scrambling to hold my skirt down while clutching my parted book at my chest.
The map is slowly peeled away and a pair of beautiful light blue eyes peek past the paper first, followed by the sharpest jawline I’ve ever seen, defined and tense. Light scruff matches his dirty-blond hair that is swept to the left and cut short on the sides. Dressed in a green Brentwood baseball sweatshirt and wearing a jaw-dropping smile, he chuckles and hands me the map while eyeing me up and down.
Why is he so familiar?
“Not a problem, but you could have asked for help if you were lost. Slapping me with a map is an aggressive tactic, effective, but aggressive.”
That voice, that smirk. I know it from somewhere.
Feeling a light blush creep up my cheeks, I say, “Not used to the wind.”
He nods and thumbs behind him. “Lake Michigan. It’s a bitch in the winter.” He studies me for a second and then nods at my map. “Where you headed? I can help.” There is the smallest southern drawl in his voice, nothing strong, but enough to tell me he’s not from Illinois.
I know that voice. I remember specifically thinking it was hot.
Tamping down my map and folding it in my book that I snap shut quickly, I say, “I promised I’d figure this all out on my own, but looks like I might need a little help after all.”
“Don’t blame yourself; this campus is a maze with no rhyme or reason. I was lost my entire first semester. Can’t tell you how many times I was late to class.”
He tilts his head to the side and gives me a small once-over. “I know you.” I don’t say anything and just as his eyes land on my chest, a smile creeps over his face, a light bulb lighting in his head. “You’re the girl who helped me find my room on Saturday.”
It’s the yellow-door baseball guy.
He leans forward, hands stuffed in his pockets and says, “I never forget a good pair of tits.”
As if I wasn’t blushing enough already.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
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