Falling for a Player: A Hate to Love Romance

Book 2: The Heat Series

by GEORGIA COFFMAN

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Enemies to Lovers; opposites attract; steamy romance; hate to love

Synopsis

Can one night in Vegas turn hate to love?

Ty

I'm no one's happily ever after. I'm the guy women call after too many tequila shots, looking to make bad choices. It's why Emma claims to hate me, but I know the truth—she secretly wants me—and I'd like nothing more than to loosen her tight ponytail and dirty her tidy apartment.

But she wants forever, and I'm broken beyond repair. Emma deserves more than only half of me.

Emma

Since my breakup, all I’ve wanted is a nice guy who understands my desire for order in every facet of my life. A guy who’s the opposite of Ty and his flirty smirks and tattoos. He’s trouble, and I can’t take any more heartache.

As a stripper for Vegas's hottest show, Ty oozes sensuality, not marriage vows. How can we have a happy ending?

Release date: April 7, 2020

Publisher: Georgia Coffman

Print pages: 415

Sample

Chapter 1

TY

Knock, knock.

Jolting awake, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I wait for another knock, but when it doesn’t come, I mutter to myself, “It’s all in my head.”

I exhale, pulling my jeans on, trying to pinpoint when exactly I took them off last night. Scratching my head, I recall shots.

So many tequila shots.

I stand up slowly and rub my eyes as I catch my bearings.

Blush couch.

White shaggy rug.

Gray throw pillows.

Like Pinterest threw up in here.

In other words, not my apartment or my friend Sebastian’s.

The previous night slowly comes back to me. Dancing, sweating, and yes, a lot of tequila. I was out with Sebastian and his girl, Kendall. Her roommate Emma would’ve come, but apparently, she hardly ever goes out.

Buzzkill.

She was a buzzkill the night we met almost three months ago too.

I pick up a picture of her and Kendall from the end table, studying Emma’s squinty eyes. She’s laughing, and the sight makes me wonder what was so funny. She’s only ever scowled in my direction the very few times I’ve been around her.

It’s cute, really. How she scrunches her nose like she smells something bad. The night we met, she swatted at me when I kissed the back of her hand. We were at a club, and she didn’t want to be there. My presence seemed to have made it worse.

Shaking my head, I make my way to the kitchen, remembering that I crashed at the girls’ apartment last night after losing my phone and apparently my count of shots.

Rummaging through their cabinets, I smile when I come face-to-face with a large tub of dried oats. The taste has never grown on me, but they’re the best kind of carb for someone like me. I need to maintain these lean abs for my role as a dancer for Naked Heat, Vegas’s hottest male revue show.

I scoop a handful of oats, groaning at the sacrifice I’m making for abs over taste.

Scratching said bare abs, I don’t see my shirt anywhere.

As if on cue, my stomach growls like crazy. Instead of trying to locate my shirt, I search for something of more sustenance. They must have protein bars or peanut butter around here.

I’m lost in my quest to find protein to sustain me like I’m on a deserted island, so when I turn around and see Emma, I jump back. I’m startled by her sudden presence, but also by her makeup-free face—a first for her. 

Her black hair is unruly, falling loosely around her shoulders. She normally wears it in a very high, very tight ponytail, but this wild and natural look is working for her—and me.

My dick twitches awake from our long sleep, especially when she stalks toward me, her face flushed and angry. “Did you say something?” I blink.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whisper-screams, her coconut scent consuming me as we stand in the small kitchen. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be sneaking out of some girl’s apartment right about now? Or do you do that right after sex, while she’s in the shower, and never look back?”

She crosses her arms, and I wonder if she’s trying to protect herself from me by putting up a wall. The thought makes me smirk.

Enjoying the blush on her cheeks, I lean forward so I’m only an inch from her pouty lips. “I bet you’d like to find out for yourself.” I wink as the door opens next to us.

Right before she slaps me across the cheek.

She storms off but stops when she runs into Sebastian and Kendall. I chuckle at how easily I can get a rise out of her.

“Why is he here?” Emma’s body trembles. It’s so noticeable, even from several feet away, and it makes me smile harder. For a yoga instructor, the woman is fiercely wound up. I thought yogis were all naturally zen or whatever.

Not Emma Jones.

Not when she’s with me, anyway.

She holds her hands up and stops Kendall before she can answer. Turning to me, she spits, “This isn’t a hostel. The shelter around the block takes in strays, you know.”

I grab another handful of oats and shovel them into my mouth, studying her twitching lip. “Rage is a good look on you, with your hair all wild and untamed. I bet you’re a firecracker in bed.”

She starts toward me, her fist swinging in the air, but Kendall grabs her before she hurts herself. I’m a large guy at over six feet tall and two hundred forty pounds, the complete opposite of her petite yet curvy figure. Her delicate hand would break if she really tries to punch me.

“Like you’ll ever find out,” Emma calls over Kendall’s shoulder. “Only in your dreams, buddy boy.”

“Buddy boy? Good one.” I raise the tub as a toast to her adorable attempt at a comeback, stoking her flame even more as she struggles in Kendall’s grasp.

“Like you have anything better, asshole.”

I lick my lips at her insult, savoring it like it’s a glass of good wine—I’m fucked up.

Her jerky movements make one side of her loose camisole fall off her shoulder, drawing my attention there.

Smooth, silky skin.

Bare skin.

Emma’s bare skin.

My dick stands at attention. If it weren’t for these restrictive jeans, the whole room would know what dirty thoughts plague my mind at the moment.

She stops struggling and runs into her room, but she emerges just as quickly like she just can’t help herself. “And stop eating my fucking food. This is not a bed-and-breakfast!”

We all jump when she slams her door.

Kendall follows her, and I retrieve the orange juice from the fridge to wash down the dried oats. Peering over the container, Sebastian glares at me before he says, “Dude…”

“Oh, you want some?” I shrug innocently, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

He rolls his eyes before Kendall comes back, and they lock themselves in her room. The one next to Emma’s where she’s probably pacing and plotting my murder.

My legs twitch, eager to march in there and find out if she is indeed a firecracker in bed. I’d like nothing more than to loosen the tension in her body.

If only she didn’t hate my guts.

 

 

 

Chapter 2

EMMA

I hate Ty.

Hate his disregard for other people’s things.

His stupid biceps and lopsided grin.

I want to claw my eyes out when he’s around… or claw at him.

The debate between the two frustrates me even more than when Kendall eats all our food or doesn’t clean.

I shake my head at all thoughts of Ty standing shirtless in my kitchen. His taut abs and tattooed chest. The way he stared at me when my tank’s strap slid down, like he enjoyed it.

It gave me shivers.

“Ugh,” I groan, stepping  into the shower, my body very keenly aware that he’s on the other side of this wall.

I curse Kendall for bringing him into our lives three months ago. No matter how happy I am for her and Sebastian, I’m miserable with the side effect of their love.

Ty.

Sebastian’s best friend. The guy with bright blue eyes against his dark Samoan-Black skin. The one with no manners and disgusting habits as a stripper.

The first night I met him, he left the club with two girls whose short dresses would make a whole one when put together.

I sneer at the thought of them grinding on each other like they were animals in heat, while I sat at the bar alone.

“Breathe,” I tell myself out loud as I finish applying mascara to my long lashes.

I learned active breathing techniques long ago when I was getting my certification for Vinyasa Yoga. Once my heart rate is under control, I manage to get ready for the day.

First stop is the park for the dog shelter’s adoption day.

Once I open my bedroom door again, Ty is nowhere to be found. He’s probably on his way back to his apartment in Vegas—good.

Although, my extra care applying my makeup was of no use.

I shake my head on the way out, annoyed that it bothered me he saw me without my usual makeup—my cover.

What annoyed me more was that he seemed to like it, if the twinkle in his eye was any indication.

But Ty Alesana is not the kind of guy I should get mixed up with, especially not after the hellish last two years I’ve had.

I stand tall, stopping at the mirror above the entryway table. Smoothing the flyaways back, I square my shoulders and nod at my reflection. “We’ve changed,” I say to myself. “Different. Smarter. More careful.”

With that, I nod again and promise myself not to let Ty’s antics get to me.

*****

At the park, the sun comes and goes, hiding behind clouds like it’s shy. Getting out of my car, I say a quick prayer that it doesn’t rain. It’s LA, after all. It’s not like my hometown in Alabama where the rain is frequent and as unpredictable as our future. It rarely rains here; it would be terrible luck if it does today.

The puppies need this. We’ve been planning for weeks, but the animals are the ones who need this. They’d be devastated if they don’t get even the chance to be adopted.

My chest squeezes as I take in the other volunteers playing fetch with some of the older dogs, while others hold the puppies Bailey found on the side of the road last week.

How cruel people can be.

Grinding my teeth, I walk toward the volunteers’ tent, which covers several dog kennels. Bailey is there with a clipboard clutched to her chest, surveying the area like she’s taking roll. Her light auburn hair is messy but cute in a bun on top of her head with a purple headband.

“Hey Bailey,” I say, my voice shaky from nerves as it is every time we do this—every other month. We’re lucky there are enough volunteers willing to do it this often. Other cities I know of don’t have that luxury. “How are we doing today?” I pull a small whimpering beagle named Drew out of a kennel. When I scratch his little head, he audibly purrs like a cat and smacks his lips in contentment.

Bailey’s young eyes are full of hope and optimism as her smile grows. “We’ve managed two adoptions so far.”

I nod but don’t return her smile. Volunteers are usually peppy and rowdy, but those aren’t exactly my strong suits.

I peer down the short line of kennels full of lonely dogs. Some bark while others fall asleep in boredom. Two adoptions are great, but we need more.

“Hey, you made it.” Mason jogs up to me, his wavy hair tucked behind his ears and bouncing above his shoulders.

He’s a couple years younger than me with peaceful blue eyes. When I began volunteering almost two years ago, he was the first to show me the ropes and make me comfortable.

After a stiff one-armed hug, I check my Apple watch, a birthday present to myself from last year. “Are you saying I’m late? Because I’m never late.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “No, I just meant… uh…”

I smile and set the beagle back into his kennel. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

“I knew that.” He shrugs, but the blush on his cheeks suggests he didn’t. Like he’s not used to me making jokes, which is… accurate, sadly.

I pat his shoulder, and for the next few hours, we play with and show off the puppies. Some are ten years old, but I still refer to them as puppies. They’re all innocent in the same way a newborn is. Fiercely loyal and loving too. It’s perhaps why I was drawn to the shelter to begin with.

I can relate to the puppies who just want someone to take care of them. To be there for them. To be their forever.

Something I thought I had.

As I wrap up the uneaten burgers from our late lunch, I recall the grotesque way my ex, Brant, used to eat them, and I cringe. He’d try to stuff the whole thing in his mouth with one bite. At first, I thought he was joking, but after the tenth time, I realized it was how he ate burgers, condiments dripping down his face and all.

The sight would’ve probably been funny to someone else, but to me, a person who doesn’t even eat in her own car, it was just gross.

“Whoa, angry much?” Mason takes the burger I smashed in my hand with a glimmer in his kind eyes. “We’ll do hot dogs next time.” He chuckles.

I inhale, wiping my hands on a napkin. “Sorry, must’ve zoned out there.” He helps me put the rest of the food and drinks up, and together, we take the cooler to his truck. “It went well today, huh? Drew found a nice home at least. I was worried about him.”

“Oh yeah, and the Picklers are a great family. They adopted a poodle from us last year.” He crosses his arms and leans against the tailgate of his truck, his biceps enlarged with the movement. “Their four-year-old daughter takes her everywhere. Last month, she even tried to take that poodle to daycare. Put her in a backpack with her little head poking out.”

I tilt my head in confusion.

“What?”

“I didn’t realize our background checks were so extensive.”

“I confess—they live next door to my sister.” He chuckles under his breath, white teeth flashing.

I smile at his admission.

He stands comfortably yet confidently, looking like he’s in a surfing photo shoot. By all accounts, I should be attracted to him, but I never feel even the tiniest of flutters when I’m around him.

Mason opens his door, pulling me out of my thoughts. “But I do wish I knew that much about all the families who adopt. To make sure the dogs are safe and loved. That’s all we really want in this world, huh?” His gaze lingers on mine, and I shift in discomfort as the conversation takes a glum turn.

He asked me out a few weeks ago.

Kendall said I was bat-shit crazy to turn him down, especially after he’d worked up the nerve to do it after all this time. He said he would’ve asked sooner but wanted to give me the space I needed after my breakup.

He was thoughtful and polite, yet I said no.

I might’ve considered saying yes had I not run into Brant right before that. Running into him pulled the horrid memories of our breakup to the forefront of my treacherous mind.

I nod in response. “Well, if you guys don’t need anything else, I’m heading to the gym.”

“What is it, like your third time there today?”

I smile again, enjoying the way he teases me about the hours I spend at the gym; it’s almost as long as I spend in my yoga studio. “First and only, actually.”

As I wave goodbye to him, Bailey, and the rest of the group, I shake my head, thinking this should be my second time to the gym today. I was supposed to do cardio this morning but got flustered with Ty and forgot.

I actually forgot.

Unless pacing around my room, thinking of ways to casually—and legally—suffocate him with a tub of oats counts as cardio.

So much for trying not to let him get to me.

He’s hundreds of miles away, yet he can still annoy me. As I pull into an empty parking spot, I take a deep breath, then exhale in relief. The gym is exactly what I need to forget the world around me.

Especially dark strippers who are as infuriating as a wrinkle in my shirt. Ones with a sexy smile and muscled arms I can’t help but notice.

Damn him.