Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
For Emily, going to camp, the summer before college starts, means leaving her feuding parents alone for the next eight weeks, and coming back to divorce papers is a risk she can’t take.
But no matter how many meddling phone calls, questionable hair decisions, and possibly illegal hookups she plans, her parents still march her off to Camp Champ totally against her will.
No matter. A few broken rules, and Em will be home free. That is, until she learns Tyler Ford, her baseball coach father’s star player and her drunken party hookup, is at camp, too.
For Tyler, summer is the onramp to the biggest decision of his life: med school or major leagues. Mega hot, possibly underage Emily? A complication he does not need.
But as the summer heats up with strikeouts and stolen bases will Tyler and Emily hit a home run and get what they’re after? Or will they both be thrown a curveball…in the game of love?
About The Author
Marta Brown grew up in the Pacific Northwest and was a teenager when Doc Martens, Pearl Jam and flannel were the norm and Dylan loved Kelly forever. (Beverly Hills 90210 shout out)
She still lives just outside Seattle, now with her husband and cat, and loves the rain.
When she’s not writing about cute boys, first kisses and the magic and wonder of being seventeen, she’s watching The CW. And she sleeps in. Late.
I move more quickly to the office now, having to know the answer. I pull the key from my pocket when a noise startles me from behind.
Spinning around, I expect to see one of the camp’s owners, but it’s not Gale or Walter. It’s Emily.
She’s in a pair of short shorts, with her hair piled high on her head in a messy ponytail, and she’s still wearing my sweatshirt, which hangs loose from her tiny frame. And she looks amazing.
“What are you doing?” I ask, barely above a whisper, the key dangling in my hand.
“Sneaking out,” Emily says in her full voice, sauntering towards me, clearly not trying to be stealthy.
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it.”
She laughs at my assessment, and judging by her volume, I can’t tell if she’s just not adept at the art of sneaking out, or if she’s purposely trying to be overt.
“Shhhh. Keep it down.” I glance around, not particularly wanting to get caught myself.
She keeps a smile on her face, but her eyes narrow. “Better question is—what are you doing?”
I take in the girl, hoping the answer I’m searching for in the middle of the night will be as obvious as a big red flashing sign that says ‘eighteen’ above her head, but no luck. In the dim moonlight, surrounded by the flickering light of fireflies, she looks as innocent and young in a pair of red flip-flops as she did in the out-of-control sexy red heels she wore a few nights ago.
“I uh…” I stammer, not sure if I should just come right out and ask.
She takes another step forward, so close I can smell the soft scent of bubble gum on her breath. “Yes?”
I run my hands through my hair. I might as well just admit what I’m doing, find out the truth, and call it a night. Because standing out here in the dark with her—all alone—is seriously tempting me to not give a shit. I want to kiss her again. Bad.