Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway ~ The Off Season by Megan Green

Today we have the blog tour of The Off Season by Megan Green! Check it out and grab your copy today!

Amazon US: http://bit.ly/OffSeasonMG

Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/OffSeasonUK

Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/OffSeasonCA

Amazon AUS: http://bit.ly/OffSeasonAUS

 

Title: The Off Season

Author: Megan Green

Genre: Sports Romance

 

About The Off Season:

He had it all…   The day Ian “Tag” Taggart’s world comes crashing down around him, he’s sitting in a fast food drive-thru, waiting for an order of fries. Golden boy of the MLB and shortstop for the Washington Rampage, Tag quickly finds himself losing grip on his superstar life with the use of two awful words: sexual assault.   The only problem? He’s innocent.   Tag’s willing to do anything to prove to the world he’d never commit the crime he’s been accused of. So when his agent suggests taking a break from the spotlight, he listens. The quiet town on Maple Lake is everything Seattle isn’t. And Lexi Barnes is everything he wasn’t expecting to find.   Running from a past she can never escape, Lexi wants nothing to do with her new neighbor. But fixing up an old house takes more work than anticipated, and the new guy in town happens to have quite the set of carpentry skills. She won’t let herself fall for him though. She has no room in her life for love.   If only someone would tell her heart that.   He’s funny and charming. She’s closed off and rude.   Together, they’re like fire and ice.   Prepare to get burned this Off-Season.    

EXCERPT

Seven hours into my vacation, and I’m already going out of my mind. 

I thought getting away from the lights and sounds of the city would be soothing. I thought the peace and quiet would be good for me, giving me some time to refocus and be alone with my thoughts.

Turns out, that’s the last place I want to be. 

Being alone inside my head means thinking about everyone I’ve let down. It means dwelling on the past six months and what it means for my career. It means having to actually fucking think about what I’m going to do if baseball is no longer an option.

Being inside my head right now is really fucking depressing.

I need to get out.

Sliding out of the enormous bed—seriously, did Brandon have this thing custom-made? You could fit ten people in it, easy—I pull on a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt. After lacing up my running shoes, I head downstairs and start a pot of coffee, so it’ll be ready by the time I get back. I briefly check my phone, pulling up a few of the sites I know Ray was going to try to contact after I left. I see the usual headlines—people calling me an entitled playboy who got away with hurting an innocent girl. But then I realize that, despite my boredom, Ray was right. Because, among the negativity, there are a few new stories from people on my side. Ray has already started working his magic. 

The early morning sun glinting off the lake catches my attention. I run every day, rain or shine. But what’s the point of living at a lake house if you’re not going to take advantage of the water, right? Kicking off my shoes, I strip off my shirt and step out onto the back patio.

I only ever saw this place in pictures before last night, and I have to say, they sure as shit didn’t do it justice. The backyard is the stuff dreams are made of. A large fire pit with built-in benches sits right in the center of it, a volleyball net complete with sand off to the side. And the dock leading out onto the water is gorgeous—dark-stained wood with posts every few feet or so and strings of circular lights running along both sides. At the end, a sitting area is artfully arranged with yet another gas fire pit in the center. 

It’s an entertainer’s wet dream. Too bad I don’t know a fucking soul within a thousand miles.

The bite in the air gives me a moment’s pause. It’s mid-October, and while the days here still get up to the sixties and the occasional seventies, nights and mornings can get downright cold. I quickly shrug off my second thoughts though, knowing that, once I get in and going, I’ll warm up in no time. Swimming works muscles that running doesn’t even know about. It’ll be a welcome change. 

Looking around and finding nobody watching, I do something I haven’t done since I was about twelve years old. I run full speed down the dock, leaping into the air and tucking into the perfect cannonball. Preteen me would’ve been in awe of the splash spraying up around me.

Adult me, however, immediately regrets this decision the second my skin comes into contact with the water. The water isn’t just cold. It’s fucking frigid. All the air rushes out of my lungs as the cold shock momentarily paralyzes me. And I’m pretty sure my balls are nestled somewhere up around my kidneys. 

I shake off my temporary stupor, kicking my feet hard toward the surface. As soon as my head breaks free from the water, the cold air feeling about fifty degrees cooler than ten seconds ago, I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off staying underneath. The thought of getting out of the freezing water and into the even more frosty air is about as desirable as voluntarily walking into a bear den after a long winter.

I sharply spin around, deciding the best course of action is to get my dumb ass back on the dock, make a mad dash toward the house, and cannonball into the hot tub waiting for me on the back patio. 

But, to add insult to this already fantastic fuckup, I’ve somehow managed to drift away from the dock, and I am much farther away from it than I originally thought. I frantically search the area surrounding me, my eyes landing on another dock only a few yards away. 

I have no clue who, if anybody, lives in that house. I can only hope they’re not the inbred, redneck type you always hear about in these small backwoods towns. Getting shot for trespassing doesn’t sound so fun. Then again, I’m so goddamn numb right now I probably wouldn’t even feel it. 

Deciding it’s my best option because there’s no way my frozen limbs will make it back the other forty yards, I force my arms to work and swim over to the battered dock. Climbing out, I shudder at the intense cold that settles into my bones and start running down the dock, toward the house.

It’s not until I’m almost there that I notice the dock leads directly onto the back porch of the house. And sitting on that porch is a woman. A woman who, from the looks of it, is confused as hell as to what a half-naked wet dude is doing, running up to her house. 

When I see a brief look of alarm flash across her features, her cup of coffee clattering against the old metal table beneath her as she starts to get to her feet, I call out, “Wait, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stills for a moment, her eyes narrowed as they scan my face. Sensing she’s still half a second away from darting indoors and calling the police, I hold my hands up at my sides and take a step backward. 

“See? Nothing on me. I made the mistake of thinking a nice cold swim was just what the doctor ordered. Learned real quick how stupid that was. Your dock saved my life. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman looks down at my soaked gym shorts and shoeless feet, as if the fact that I’m dripping wet didn’t even register until now. My teeth begin to chatter as I wait for her to finish her perusal of my person.

“You honestly thought it was a good idea to jump in that lake?”

 

About the Author:

 

 Megan lives in Northern Utah with her handsome hubby, Adam. When not writing, chances are you’ll find her curled up with her Kindle. Besides reading and writing, she loves movies, animals, chocolate, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. She loves hearing from readers, so drop her a line! You can find her here:

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