Today we have the blog tour for Ember Leigh’s MAKE ME LOSE! Check it out and be sure get your copy today!
Title: Make Me Lose
Author: Ember Leigh
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Make Me Lose:Grayson Daly and I aren’t just rivals. We’re enemies. Born minutes apart on the same day in the same hospital, our parents thought this meant we were somehow destined to be together. We knew were we just destined to beat each other. Competition boiled over until junior year, when the cold war turned into an unexpected peace offering. Maybe my hormones allowed me to notice his broad shoulders, stormy gray-blue eyes, and soccer star’s chiseled frame. But after I fell for him…he stomped all over my heart. Ten years later, I’m at the top of the realty game in Bayshore and Grayson is just a distant memory. Until he shows up from NYC, his ego bigger than a skyscraper, and asks me to sell the house he recently inherited. It’s easy to say no. Even though I want to climb him like the jungle gyms we used to dangle from in strong arm battles. But I forgot that Gray doesn’t take no for an answer. And that he isn’t content unless he’s defeating me. He butts into my evenings on the boat. Ropes me into water skiing battles. Even shows up at the bar and creates a scene when I’m scouting a date to the upcoming Bicentennial Ball. It’s almost like he’s gunning to win me. But if he wins, that means I lose. And I’m not ready to cede victory just yet.
My gaze is snagged by a lady in a black pencil skirt and high heels. Gleaming, chestnut brown hair is pulled back into a low bun. My gut cinches.
“Oh, hell,” I mutter, leaning forward to confirm. It’s Hazel. It has to be Hazel. I’d recognize those creamy calves from any distance. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the sashaying of her ass.
“Look! It’s Hazel.” Mom sounds way too pleased.
“Yeah. What’s she doing here?”
“She’s on her break.” Mom sends me an annoying grin. “She drives home, has lunch, and then walks the block every day on her break.”
“In those heels?” I ask, which was dumb. My gaze goes straight to them. I scowl, as though this might help convince my heart rate to resume a normal speed.
“Our Hazel is the star of the neighborhood.” Mom’s voice is wispy now, like Hazel has gone on to Hollywood, or perhaps the Great Beyond. “The star of Bayshore, actually.”
“Why? All she does is sell houses.” I can’t look away from her retreating figure. She hangs a right onto the road hugging the shore, and in just a few seconds I lose sight of her. I blink a few times. The fog lifts. I can think again. “It’s not that difficult. I could go get my realtor’s license tomorrow and do the same thing. And probably sell more than she does.”
My mom laughs and shakes her head.
“I’m serious,” I insist.
“Then do it!” Mom counters. “It’ll keep you around here.”
I grunt, turning away from the window. “I can’t. It would be too easy.”
“Always competing,” Mom says quietly. And she’s not wrong. “Though maybe the two of you at each other’s throats your entire lives made you who you are today. You, my big city boy, and Hazel, the small-town queen.”
“If Hazel gets the title of queen, then I should be the king.”
“You’d have to marry her to get that title,” Mom says, squeezing my arm.
I let out a sarcastic, “Ha ha.”Marriage is something I’d like to dabble in someday, but not now, and neverwith someone like Hazel. No matter how perky those ass cheeks are, no matter how bad I want to run my fingertips up the porcelain arc of her calves, Hazel is out of the question.
“She would sooner spear me with her ten-inch heel than let me get down on one knee in front of her.” Again, very dumb. More thoughts about those heels. But I barrel on. “I don’t know what it is about this city that thinks Hazel and I are long-lost soul mates, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been proving to you all for approximately twenty-eight years how wrong you all are.”
“You’re being a little mean,” Mom says gently, patting my back as we wind through the 70s-styled kitchen. Golden rod, burnt orange, and checkered floors galore. It needs a facelift badly. Hopefully it won’t hurt the resale value.
“Just honest,” I say, but she’s right. I’m being mean. Old habits die hard. “Besides, she was pretty mean to me today when I asked her to sell the house.” Mean and sexy and a huge turn-on. “So let’s call it even.”
Mom shakes her head, heaving a long a heavy sigh. “There’s never been an ‘even’ with you two.”