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ebook
First published June 22, 2021
Audio book source: Audible
Story Rating: 4 stars
Narrators: James Evans & Arielle DeLisle
Narration Rating: 4 stars
Genre: Contemporary Romance (NA/Sports)
Length: 9h 47m
“Jack is…the opposite. Very proper lad, as you’d say. Buttons to the neck, same bird since we were in school, probably going to take a gap year after finishing college.”
Bird?
“What kind of bird?”
“I don’t know - she’s blonde. Her name is Caroline, quite a bitch actually.”
“His bird is a bitch?” I laugh. “What the hell does that even mean? It squawks too loud? Does it bite?”
Ashley considers me. “Are we talking about the same thing?”
“I don’t know—are we talking about an actual bird?”
He shakes his head. No. “His bird. His girlfriend? Caroline.”
I squint in his direction though he’s right in front of me. “Is bird one of those British terms that doesn’t mean the same thing in America?”
“Quite.”
Ahh, that makes sense andddd I’m an idiot.
“She asked if you were attractive and I said yes.”
Except that one.
That I did not see coming.
“Oh.”
Attractive.
Is that British speak for cute? Or pretty?
Or hot?
“My father is a baron - it’s not as posh or grand as an earldom, but it’s a title I’ll inherit when he passes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It just means he’s a peer among the aristocracy and so will I be, and so will my wife.”
Um. He needs to speak English. “Okay.” I’ll definitely be googling peer and aristocracy later when I’m alone.
I lean over to the same guy who gave me the score to ask, “Does rugby have halves or quarters?”
He gazes back at me like I have three heads. “Halves.”
“How many?”
Another odd look. “Two.”
One, Ariel isn’t my type.
Too much makeup, too much lipstick, too much hair.
Fine, I’m a shallow bastard, sue me—but I like a woman I can take shooting in the country or lie around casually with, who feels comfortable enough in her own body that she doesn’t have to hide behind layers.

Audiobook source: Audible
Narrator: James Evans & Arielle DeLisle
Length: 9 H 47 M
I can feel his gaze … filling my body with tingles the way a body should react when you’re insanely attracted to someone but too afraid to say something.
Nervous energy.
Electric energy.
Flirty, alive energy.
What is this?
What is happening?
He says my name again, but this time, it’s aloud through the kiss.
This is not how this is supposed to be…
We are not supposed to feel this close.
The field appears.
It’s filled with dirty giants.
Grunting, shouting, dirty giants, tossing around an oblong ball that kind of looks like a football but isn’t.
… I have zero clue what’s happening on the field, transfixed as a mass of players begins piling up when one goes down, climbing over each other, elbows and knees flying.
Faces get smashed.
Mud everywhere.
One guy’s nose begins to profusely bleed as he steps away from the pack, and for the love of all that is holy, what the hell is going on?
I’d compare the sight to a cross between the Scottish Highland games and an actual brawl—it’s not a fight but it looks like one?
I’m so confused.