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Series: Getting Some #2
Also in this series: Getting Schooled
Published by Emma Chase LLC on October 8, 2019
Genres: Romance, Contemporary
Review Copy Provided By: Author
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A magnificent new romance by New York Times bestselling author Emma Chase.
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.
I was provided a review copy; this did not influence my opinion of the book.
❝What’s the difference between a tire and 365 used condoms?❞
❝One’s a Goodyear. The other’s a great year.❞
Hilariously funny and heartwarmingly sweet, ‘Getting Played’ was everything I’ve come to expect from Emma Chase. Witty, and full of banter, sexy and tender with enough tension to tie you up in knots, and enough sweet to melt even the blackest of hearts.
Dean is the uber-sexy Calculus teacher, assistant football coach, and drummer. The charming playboy lives for today, experiencing life to its fullest. At the end of the summer tour with his band, he has a one-night stand with the woman who would bring him to his knees, the one who would leave him wanting more. And without a means to contact her, he spends the rest of the summer and beginning of the new school year thinking about her.
There were two things single mother, and lifestyle blogger Lainey never expects to happen; getting knocked up after a one-night stand, and finding out that her son’s new math teacher is the man she’s been trying to find, the one who forever changed her life.
I laughed out loud while reading this book, where Emma Chase comes up with things she writes is beyond me. Her books are incredibly smart, funny, and sexy. Chase could teach a class in character development. Rarely do you find an author who consistently nails it, but Emma Chase does, and she does it brilliantly. She brings imaginary characters to life between the pages of her books; their dreams are vibrant, their pain is sharp, and their love is incontestable.
❝We’re worth waiting for, Lainey.❞
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.”
“Okay.” Lainey’s tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip. “Thanks.”
Like I said . . . fucking killing me.