Getting divorced at twenty-five sucks. Teaching over-confident rich kids when you're all but homeless sucks. In fact, every single aspect of Daisy Fitzgerald's life is one big fail. Enter hot young chef, Xander. He's a Knight-in-Shining-Cricket-Pads who knocks Daisy off her wedge heels and into his privileged world of It-girls, players and Michelin stars.
High on cocktails & escapism, Daisy agrees to play Forfeit, the ultimate game of dares. A simple kiss dare ignites her feelings for Xander, but the game is called Forfeit for good reason.
Blackmail, betrayal, revenge... Can their relationship go the full three rounds?
#Forfeit launched on July 31st 2014. It's regularly been in the Top 1000 Kindle Chart (paid) and in the Top 5 (Free). Sales since launch are 1500, with the same again in Kindle Unlimited borrows.
The follow-up book, Nearly Almost Somebody which launched in March 2015, has similar sales pro rata, and was recently featured in HEAT magazine.
‘Heads up!’
Daisy’s rugby-obsessed big brother had shouted those two words with reliable consistency as she grew up – instinct kicked in and she scanned the sky. The cricket ball headed straight for her, as did a fifteen-stone fielder. Oh God, should she run left or right? Rooted to the spot, she watched transfixed as the fielder leapt into the air, arm outstretched to catch the ball. He missed by at least two feet.
Duck! Duck, you stupid cow and the ball will miss you.
But the fielder wouldn’t. He flailed backwards and Daisy closed her eyes, preparing for the impact. Oddly, it came from her right as someone knocked her sideways. Her eyes opened in time to see a male hand pluck the ball from the air as his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. They fell, her head bashing the baked ground and she lay gasping for the breath he’d knocked out of her, all too aware of cricket pads and some divine aftershave. Was it the fit batsman?
The fielder stood where she had moments ago, grinning. ‘Nice catch.’
The batsman sat up, laughing, and tossed the ball to the fielder. ‘She certainly is.’ He leant over, his hair flopping into his eyes, and gave Daisy a curious smile. ‘Hello.’
Thank God for sunglasses because it was the fit batsman and his smile, one that had to be sponsored by Colgate, had Daisy staring like a loon.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
Daisy nodded, but the movement made her forehead sting and she winced.
‘You’re bleeding,’ he said, helping her to her feet. ‘Come on.’
Crikey, he was well spoken. And very tall. She gazed up at him as he placed a gentle hand on her back and led her to the Land Rover where he’d sat earlier.
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Beatriz Portero García
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