STEALING THIRD by Marta Brown – book blitz

Stealing Third by Marta Brown
Publication date: July 2014
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?



“Emily, there you are,” Jenny says, walking into the cabin, the screen door banging closed behind her. I fold the letter to Kat and slip it back in the box before shoving it under my bed again. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back from the batting cages. You?”

Jenny smiles. “I went up to the baseball field with some of the girls after getting done with crew.”

“Watching the boys?” I ask, despite already knowing the answer. It’s her favorite daily activity.

“Just one in particular,” she squeals, causing me to wince as she bounces across the room, still in her spandex from practice, and sits down at the end of my bed.

I push further back against my pillows to put some distance between us and roll my eyes. This isn’t a hard one to guess either. If ogling Todd were a sport, she could have earned a first place ribbon last summer.

“Let me guess, you were checking out T—”

“Tyler,” she finishes, cutting me off.

My breath catches. My Tyler?

She must read confusion on my face because she clarifies. “You know, the counselor from cabin four—the one with the crazy kissable lips.”

Yep. That’s the one.

A nerve in my neck pinches. “Yeah…I know exactly who you mean.” Considering his crazy kissable lips is all I’ve thought about for days.

“Anyway, I came to grab a blanket and some sunscreen and I’m headed back up to the field. Some of the guys are about to have a pickup game.” Jenny pushes off my bed, grabs her beach bag and starts to head out the back door before stopping and tossing me a look over her shoulder. “Btw—you can come if you want.”

A pickup game? With Tyler?

I smile, knowing the invitation is superficial, but I could care less.

I hop off my bed, throw on my tennis shoes and grab a hair tie. I’ve avoided him for long enough. If it’s games Tyler wants to play, at least this one I know the rules to.

“Oh, great,” she deadpans. “You’re coming.”

I sweep my hair into a ponytail and grab my lucky baseball hat.

“Nope. I’m playing.”



The baseball field is dusty and hot, and it’s exactly where I want to be.

Between job shadowing Doc, thinking about Emily in that teeny tiny bikini—which I completely shouldn’t be—and the pressure of choosing between medicine and baseball bearing down on me like the mid-afternoon sun, I’d almost forgotten how excited I was to spend the summer at a camp dedicated to sports.

“All right, guys, I know it’s just a pickup game, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to play like it’s the bottom of the ninth in the seventh game of the World Series.” Mark, one of the other counselors who plays ball claps his hands. The whistle hanging around his neck and the clipboard tucked under his arm reminds me of Coach. “Am I right?”

“Right,” the team echoes in unison before scattering to our various positions.

Grabbing the rim of my baseball hat and tugging it down low to block the sun from my eyes, I pump my fist into the hollow cup of my well worn glove and settle in at shortstop.

“Let’s do this,” I call, and then proceed to choke on the cheek full of sunflower seeds in my mouth at the sight of Emily walking out of the other team’s dugout—in something way hotter than a tiny bikini.

A baseball jersey.

Shooting me a wink, she bends down, grabs a helmet, and slips it on before approaching homeplate. She kicks in her toes, drawing up dust as she grips the bat and readies herself for the pitch.

Damn, she looks hot. And by the slack jawed faces of my teammates, and frankly, her team, too, I’m not alone in my thinking. Maybe that’s why Mark gives her a nice easy pitch right down the middle.

She hits a hard and fast line drive right between me and the second baseman, and before I can even scramble for the ball, she’s on first and smiling at me.

I shake my head. Of course she plays baseball—why wouldn’t she? She is the coach’s daughter after all.

But staring at Emily standing on first base, tying her jersey into a high knot and revealing her toned stomach, I’m starting to get the feeling she’s playing with a whole different set of rules. Ones I’m pretty sure her dad didn’t teach her.


Marta Brown Author Photo

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.

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Sale event – Escaping Me by Elizabeth Lee – On Sale August 2-9

Escaping Me by Elizabeth Lee will be on sale from
August 2-9! Check out the excerpt below and grab the book today!

Title: Escaping Me
Author: Elizabeth Lee
Age Group: NA
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Published: July 30, 2013
All she wanted to do was forget. Forget the memory of walking in on her boyfriend in the middle of, well, another girl. Forget how she had her entire life planned out. And, forget about being perfect all the time. Unfortunately, she was Whitney Vandaveer and despite the fact that she moved to the middle of nowhere – she couldn’t.

He always knew he would never be more than nothing. No job, no money, no future. Cole Pritchett had accepted the fact that he would always be the screw up and he was okay with it. Until he met her.

Here’s the thing they quickly found out – sometimes we all need a little help escaping who we think we are.

 I hold my head back and walk toward the delivery truck.  Cole’s eyes are down on the clipboard he is holding in his hands as he double-checks what he has to take off the truck.
You’re a little late to take me up on the drink offer,” I tease as I cross the gravel drive toward him, shuffling my flip-flops against the rocks.  I am hoping that maybe he is a morning person and will be in a better mood than the last time I saw him.  No such luck.  He looks up at me quickly, adjusting the bill of his hat to shade his face, and then back down at his clipboard.  Not even the hint of a grin on his lips. Wow.  His expression is as cold as it was last night when he walked away from me.  He shakes his head, albeit subtly, but to me it is like a flashing neon sign that says, “Go away.”
He sets the clipboard down on the hood of the truck, his eyes never once drifting back to mine.  Instead, he turns his back and walks behind the truck.  He lowers the gate and pulls the pallet lift, loaded up with whatever it was my
mom ordered.  As he lowers the lift to the ground, he keeps his focus on what he is doing.  It is painfully obvious that he is avoiding looking at me.  Maybe I should have looked in the mirror again? I thought my fitted pink t-shirt and black cotton shorts were cute pajamas. Maybe I was wrong.  Do I look that horrible this morning?
Just put it outside the barn doors over there,” I say between clenched teeth.  Who the hell does this guy think he is?  Never in my life have I been so callously ignored.  I glance over my shoulder at my mother and Mallory, who are still watching from the kitchen window.  I roll my eyes at them and turn back to see if Mr. Personality has finished what he came here to do.  As infuriating as this situation is becoming, I can’t help but notice how fantastic his ass looks in his
jeans.  The worn denim hangs from his narrow waist perfectly—not cowboy tight and not gangster loose.  The gray t-shirt that is stretched across his back reads Wilson Lumber Yard with their catchy slogan underneath—“We
Got Wood”.  I fight back a giggle.  At least someone has a sense of humor.  He unloads the pallet and has the lift back in the truck, all while managing to completely not acknowledge my existence.
I’ll just go ahead and sign for this so you can be on your way,” I say as he climbs out of the back of the truck.  This time, the icy tone of my voice catches his attention. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk to the front of the truck.   “I’d
hate to keep you from the obviously more important things you would rather be doing.”  Leaning over the hood, I
pull a pen from the holder on the top of the clipboard.  My frustration with his attitude is made perfectly clear as I furiously click the plunger on the top of the pen.  My eyes are busy scanning for the space I am supposed to sign when a sudden shadow is cast over my shoulder.  I can feel his breath on my neck and his body resting behind mine.
It must be the nature of the position we are in because I have to fight the urge to back into him.  To feel his hard body against my backside.  My skin is on fire and my brain immediately tries to reason that it is anger as opposed to something else.
Do you mind?” I snap, turning to tell him to back off.  But he doesn’t. Instead, he places his hands on the truck,
catching me between his muscled forearms and pinning me between his delicious body and the truck.  Even under the
bill of that hat he is always wearing, I can see his shaded eyes narrow in on mine.  It isn’t with contempt or agitation—it is something else.  Yes.  He is looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off, and I would let him. 
He closes the distance between us.  Here we are, chest to chest.  The air around me instantly thickens, making it nearly impossible to breathe.  His eyes go to mine and then to my lips, the same way they did at the bar.  He takes in a shallow breath, and I can tell he is having a hard time breathing, too.  I’m not sure if I should duck out from under him and run or throw myself against him.  I’ve never been so intimidated or so turned on in my life.  It is infuriating.  He licks one corner of his lips and I think for sure he is going to kiss me.  Seconds tick and he still hasn’t moved.  Is he waiting for me to give him the okay?  Does he really want to kiss me?  I raise my chin slightly and let my eyes close.  I hold my breath, waiting for his lip to fall on mine, and forget every reason I should be mad at him for.  That is
until he utters three words that manage to remind me. 
No signature required.”


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Author Bio:

Born and raised in the middle of a Midwestern cornfield (not literally, that would be weird), I’ve spent my entire life imagining stories. Stories where the right guy always gets the right girl, first kisses are as magical as they are on the big screen and anything is completely possible if you believe.

Although this journey began years ago, it recently took on a whole new life. After years of devouring hundreds of Romance, YA and New Adult novels, I had an epiphany… I should write a book. And I did it!

If I’m not reading, writing, enjoying drinks with my amazing group of girlfriends or chasing around a sarcastically funny kid, I’m probably watching television shows that were created for teenagers, while my husband teases that I’m too old to watch them.

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