Hello Friends,
This week, I’m featuring Aussie/Yankee twined
romance author, Cd Brennan’s new book.
“In Time” is
the second story in the “Play On” series of Rugby Romances. The series is
centered on a football team based in Michigan, USA. Cd Brennan writes original
and interesting stories. In this book she brings together a shy Scotsman, Rory
and a sassy, Texan Lassie, Grace, to play footy and find romance.
There’s some good book reviews on
Amazon…
“I truly enjoyed this second installment in the
Play On Series…The writing in this book was superb and evocative.”
--Heidi Senesac, Amazon.com
“Gosh, I started this rugby story yesterday and
couldn't put it down. For me, it's one of those stories that pulls all the
strings of my heart!” –Jan KC,
Amazon.com
Here’s the Blurb
Hot.
Intense. Relentless.
Rory Cameron is all about rugby. He’s been
playing since he was a wee bairn in Edinburgh. By now, he should be a
powerhouse with his single-minded dedication to the Traverse City Blues Rugby
Club. But something is missing. With his dad breathing down his neck to make a
big club, the last thing he needs is a sassy country girl distracting him.
Grace making the men’s team? Improbable. Rory
coaching a women’s rugby team? Unbelievable. Falling for the girl? Absolutely.
Grace Bowman moves to Michigan to forge a new
life without her family’s constant mothering. She refuses to let her diabetes
keep her from the life she craves. Time to live big and take chances—carpe diem
and all that. Still, the last thing she expects is for things to heat up with
the coach of the women’s rugby team. If her new lifestyle doesn’t kill her,
rugby just might. But Grace is willing to take the chance for a winning try
with Rory.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
“In Time” is available now for the Kindle price
of $2.99 US and $3.99 Aus.
Here's the link to Amazon.com
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Cd Brennan kindly provided an excerpt of the story.
Most people assumed if you were
quiet, you were passive, if you were an introvert, you were dispassionate.
That was the farthest from the
truth.
Ruaridh, or Rory as everyone
called him, was a very passionate man. It just didn’t show on the outside. Or
rarely. Even when Rory was in pain, like he was now. He had mucked up the game
for the Blues again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. They had lost
Saturday’s match on a play Coach called the Americana. Not sure if the name was
based on the coffee or the culture… Actually, the coffee was an Americano, so
no. And did it even matter?
He stretched his neck from side
to side, pops and creaks as he did. For the hundredth time, he thought perhaps
he wasn’t made for rugby. Maybe it wasn’t in his blood like his father claimed.
Maybe there had been a leap in generations, the ball gene bouncing haughtily
over the top of his head. All the weight training, conditioning, the protein
smoothies, rugby videos for strategy—eating and breathing rugby—and still no
results. At least not what was expected of him.
“Rory!”
“Hm?”
“Bro, grab that other side of
the table and help me move it to the far wall.”
“Oh, sure, Del.”
They shuffled and maneuvered
the table down the long aisle banked with treadmills and rowers nearest the
window, stationary bikes and ellipticals on the other side. It was a Monday at
Crunch Fitness Gym, one of the busiest nights of the week, almost every machine
taken, and the reason they were here to do a bit of recruitment for the Blues.
The bigger the pool of men to play, the better chance of winning the games.
“Right along here, Rory, boy.”
Del placed his side of the
table first along the back wall of the core strength area littered with
colorful exercise balls. Rory then followed with his own side of the table.
“Where’s Irish?”
“He probably waited for Gillian
to get home from work for a bit of humpty-dumpty, but he’ll be here. Come on,
cuz, let’s grab the chairs.”
Rory followed Del back the way
they had come. Padraig, who the team had nicknamed Irish, had been new to the
Blues last year but already had landed a woman and a spot on the USA Eagles
national team. “I kind of miss him at the house.”
Del gave him a look over his
shoulder as though he was completely daft. “We’re talking about the same Irish,
right? Moody fucker as fun as a torn ligament?”
“He’s gotten better. You have
to admit.”
Del handed Rory three folding
chairs and then collected the box with their flyers and sign-up sheets. He
grabbed their banner that was still set along the brick wall at the entrance to
the gym. “Mate, that’s true. When he first came, never thought I’d see the
day.”
“Who’s that?”
Both turned to see Irish
standing just inside the door with a gear bag over his shoulder.
“Ah, speak of the devil. Help
Rory with one of those chairs, mate, and give us a hand setting up.”
Irish dropped his bag where he
stood and offered a hand to Rory, who refused. “Nah, you’re good. Need the
extra training. I got this.”
Irish shook his head. “Do you
ever stop, like?”
“Not until I get there.” Rory
shimmied past both the lads, ignoring the look that Irish had thrown Del. He’d
get there. Any day now and things would click, all come together. His rugby
stars would align, and he’d be a streak of lightning on the pitch. This Cameron
would play for a big European club, just like his da wanted. He’d be a blur on
the field, dodging and spinning, one try after another—a champion.
Lost in the beautiful daydream,
Rory missed helping with the setup until Del yelled at him to help hang the
Blues banner across the front of the table.
The three of them took a chair
behind with Del in the middle.
Behind the row of ellipticals
and bikes was a wall of weight machines that divided the room between the
cardiovascular equipment and the large area for free weights. The gym had
become something of a second home to Rory over the years, and although
comfortable in the space, he recently found it boring. Always the same people,
often many trying to show off, the stench of sweat and body odor now
overbearing. Where the noises of a busy gym used to offer him a type of relief,
a recognition of who he was in a way, he now found them irritating and
abrasive.
They had barely sat down when a
couple of girls walked by the table. A blonde with big breasts in a tight gym
shirt and leggings slowed as she passed and smiled. Her eyes flickered over all
three before they settled on Del.
“Good evening, ladies, you want
to play rugby?” Del waved a flyer at them, his smile bright against his darker
skin.
Her friend with short, spiky
hair and more muscles than Rory tugged on the blonde’s hand until she moved
again.
“Aw c’mon,” Del teased. “We
could use some fit ladies like yourselves.”
The blonde smiled over her
shoulder and shook her head.
“Del, you’re off to a bad
start,” Irish said.
“What do you mean, bro? I think
I’m off to a perfect start.”
“Wrong sex,” Rory pointed out.
Del tipped his chair onto the
back legs. “Nope. Right sex.”
“Coach said we can recruit
women?” Rory asked.
Irish leaned his elbows on the
table and made a point to roll his eyes at Rory. He hated when the bastard did
that. Padraig had a boarding school education, just like Rory, but he didn’t
have to show it off all the time. “He’s not talking about gender, Rory.”
Ah, got it.
“I’m interested,” a female
voice interrupted.
Their heads turned in unison to
a petite woman who stood just left of the table. She wore old-style gray
tracksuit pants the Americans called sweatpants, heavy cotton and bunched at
the knees, and a pink T-shirt with black letters that read I don’t wear bows. I
shoot ’em. Rory snorted a laugh. She had her brown hair pulled back with a
headband and a water bottle in her hand, but it was her eyes that he returned
to again and again in his assay. Big and bold, a beautiful dark blue, like the
deepest fathoms of the ocean.
“Uhhh…” Del finally broke the
awkward moment, but with nothing that could save their arses. Even with all the
swishes of the machines and the clank of weights dropping, an uncomfortable
silence had draped itself around their table.
She crossed her arms. “I
thought I just heard y’all ask that blond chick if she wanted to play.”
Irish covered his mouth with his
hand, most likely hiding the smirk that Rory knew well, and Del just sat there
with his mouth open. Rory wanted to say something. Anything to help her. Or
maybe not so much help, but break the horrible discomfort that hung in the air.
Rory rubbed at his chest to ease the ache.
Hands up in the air, she asked,
“Well? Can I play or not?”
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
About Cd Brennan
Having traveled and lived all over
the world, Cd Brennan now enjoys reliving her glory days by writing about them.
Feisty heroines with wanderlust or sexy rugby heroes who breathe passion for
more than just the sport.
Aussie/Yankee twined, Cd is now
settled in Michigan with a rugby player of her own and two wee sons who are
still adapting to the snow. A full-time editor and mum, she and her hubby still
dream of starting a hobby farm—a few cows or buffalo, maybe some chickens and
pigs, too. She loves rugby, traveling, anything outdoors, and all things from
the 80s.
But she especially loves to
hear from readers! Find her at your favorite places.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Cd Brennan’s first book in the "Play On" series.
Sexy.
Passionate. Fierce.
Cd
has now written about an Irishman and a Scotsman as rugby romance heroes paired
with American heroines. What will she write next in the “Play On” series!
Have
a good week everyone.
♥ Ashlyn
