Getting Played, a magnificent new romance by New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase is LIVE! Check out my spoiler-free book review of Getting Played. Getting Played is sexy, sweet, and a heartfelt treat. I loved this all-new romance book! It's available at all major retailers including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks and more! This is a standalone/no cliffhanger.
Synopsis:
Dean Walker is all about keeping life simple. He’s effortlessly talented and intelligent—spending his summers playing drums in the local band and the rest of the year teaching high school in the same Jersey town where he grew up. He likes his love-life simple too, enjoying the commitment-free hook-ups his good looks and sexy charm have always made oh-so easy.
Then he meets Lainey Burrows. And his simple, easy life gets turned upside down.
***
One wild one-night stand was all it was ever supposed to be, so Lainey is shocked when she discovers that her sizzling summer fling is also her son’s new math teacher. But that’s nothing compared to the most unexpected twist of all—their hot hook-up left Lainey knocked-up, and now they’re about to become parents. Together.
What ensues is an addictive, insatiable, sweet and tender romance that won’t be simple, but it will be more than worth the fight.
A stand-alone, contemporary romance.
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Review of Getting Played
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Getting Played by Emma Chase is sexy, sweet, and a heartfelt treat. I loved this book!!! I’m originally from New Jersey, and I have friends that are teachers or play in rock bands like the characters in this book. Fun fact: I used to play drums. I’ve had a Dean-like character break my heart and a friend or two like Lainey. This story was relatable for me on so many levels. Maybe I was feeling a bit nostalgic while reading Getting Played since I was just making plans with my NJ crew. Nah, it’s this book! I felt like I knew these characters. I laughed out loud so many times, and my heart is bursting from the ending. One-click worthy!
Excerpt:
Dean
I find Lainey in the living room—standing on a ladder, with those long, toned legs peeking out from itty bitty cotton black shorts and a power drill in her hand, while Bruce Springsteen sings “I’m Goin’ Down” from a speaker in the corner.
And, dear God—the things I could do to her on that ladder.
Wonderful, filthy things that instantly make my heart pound and my cock throb. She’s the perfect height for me to just walk over there and put my mouth between her legs. I picture it, see it in my mind—the way she’d grip my hair and pant my name, arch her back and writhe against my face . . .
But then I catch sight of the small bump of her stomach, and reality smacks me in the head. I think about the baby—and how making Lainey lose her mind three feet off the ground wouldn’t be the safest option. My protective instinct overrides the desire to get freaky on the ladder.
“Hey, Dean.” She sets the drill on the ledge and picks up a beeping light green rectangle, running it along the wall.
“What are you doing up there?” I ask.
I don’t have a decorative bone in my body, but the room looks good—with light gray walls and navy corduroy covered couches, reclaimed wood tables and a dozen different-sized candles filling the white-washed brick fireplace. It’s clean and simple but warm, the kind of place you’d look forward to coming back to every day.
“I’m going to hang up those boards.” Lainey gestures to three square planks, with ornamental arrows burned black into the wood. “I just want to make sure this stud-finder works.”
“If you’re looking for a stud,” I wink, “I’m standing right in front of you.”
“Ha-ha. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She turns back to the wall, reaching up over her head and stretching onto her tippy toes on the narrow step. I move under the ladder to catch her if she goes ass over end, and a stab of terror slices through me at the thought that Lainey would still be doing this if I wasn’t here. Alone. Without Jason even in the room in case something went terribly wrong.
What the hell is up with that?
“I read that you’re not supposed to reach above your head when you’re pregnant.”
“That’s just an old wives’ tale.”
I wrap my hands around her hips, holding her steady.
“Maybe the old wives knew what they were talking about. Come on, come down.”
Slowly, Lainey lowers her arms and turns in my hands. I lift her off the ladder by her hips, tilting my head back and holding her above me for a moment, before sliding her slowly down. And the feel of her softness rubbing against me, the friction—it’s fantastic.
When her feet are on the ground, I dip my head and our faces are just millimeters apart. Close enough to count the sprinkle of cute, light freckles that dust the bridge of her nose.
“That’s better,” I say softly, taking the stud-finder out of her hands. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s better,” I say softly, taking the stud-finder out of her hands. “I’ll do it.”
“Okay.” Lainey’s tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip. “Thanks.”
Like I said . . . fucking killing me.
***
About Emma:
New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase writes contemporary romance novels known for their clever banter, emotional, and sexy, swoonworthy moments. Her books have been translated into over twenty languages around the world.
Emma lives in New Jersey with her amazing husband, two spirited children, and two adorable, but badly behaved, dogs. She has a long standing love/hate relationship with caffeine.
Connect with Emma:
You can find Emma at https://authoremmachase.com
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