Cover Reveal – Game on by S C Daiko


If i wasn’t her student, it would be 

Title: Game On 

Author : S.C. Daiko 

Genre: Contemporary, YA, Sports romance

Cover Designer : RBA Designs 









RYAN

There was only one thing I wanted in life: to play professional rugby.

 

I lived and breathed it.

 


Until I met Beth.


She’s beautiful, sweet, and so incredibly sexy . . . but she’s out of bounds.


Beth wants me, I know she does, and I want her.


If I wasn’t her student it would be game on.

BETH

There was only one thing I wanted in life: to be a good teacher.

 

And I was.

 


Until I met Ryan.


He held me against his hard body on a hot Ibiza night, and I lost myself to him.


Six months later, he’s in my Spanish class… what I feel for him is totally against the rules.


Soon rugby isn’t the only game Ryan is playing.


But when his past catches up with him, and everything starts to go wrong . . . will it be game over for the two of us?



The

music takes me, the throbbing bass rhythm carrying me into a

whirlpool of movement; I sway my hips, arms crossed above my head.

I’ve drunk too much but what the hell… I’m having fun. Moving

my ass in time to the beat, I head back to the table and take another

sip of vodka lemon, trying to act like this is what I do every

Saturday night. The drink burns its way down to my belly, stoking my

excitement.

Megan,

my bestie and the bride-to-be, grins at me from where she’s

sprawled on the corner sofa of the nightclub. “You ok, my lovely?”

Having

a blast,” I say, giving her a high-five.

We’re

here on the party island of Ibiza for her hen weekend… me, my twin

sister Chloe (not drinking as she’s trying for a baby) and Meg’s

sister, Lowri, who’s had more than Meg and I combined. Lowri shoots

me a tipsy look. “You’re such an amazing dancer,” she slurs.

Dance

is my exercise of choice, and I love it. I grab her hand and pull her

onto the floor, spinning her around while I shimmy to the sound,

tossing my hair back from my face. “Oh God,” Lowri bleats, and

her face turns green, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Oops,”

I lead her back to the chair she just vacated. “Put your head

between your knees, sweetie, and I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”

Fifteen

minutes later, I’m back on the dance floor, having left the

recovering Lowri with Meg and Chloe. I’m lost in my own world, a

world of music and movement. All around me, people are caught up in

the buzz of the rave, a mosh-pit of gyrating bodies high on hedonism.

Dutch house bounces off the walls, the floor vibrates beneath my

feet, and lights strobe across the ceiling.

I

smell him before I see him, a mix of musky male sweat and woody

cologne. He towers over my five foot six frame, broad shoulders, slim

waist, and totally gorgeous. I’m not wearing my glasses, and his

denim-blue eyes clash with mine. He smiles, his teeth flashing white

in a tanned face. “Hola,”

he smirks, and it’s a smirk full of promise. “Cómo


te llamas?

Beth,”

I shout to be heard above the high-volume music.

English?”

I

nod as he steps forward to grasp my hips with strong hands. We sway

together and I feel his hardness pushing against my tummy. My head

tucks under his chin and I breathe him in. It’s been too long since

I felt the pleasure of a sexy man…

No

need to ask his name. He’s almost certainly a local and I doubt

I’ll meet him again. I’ll just enjoy this for what it is: a brief

encounter. I’m so turned on; I can feel my knickers sticking to me

under my party dress.

His

hot breath tickles my earlobe as he bends his head to nuzzle my neck.

And then he’s kissing me, his lips warm and filled with lust, his

tongue chasing mine. “Come, princesa,”

he breaks away and tugs on my hand. “Let’s find somewhere

quieter.”

The

sensible voice in my head tells me not to be stupid. That I don’t

have one-night stands. Never have. Never thought I would. But the

past three years have taken their toll, and I’m fed up with

listening to sensible Beth. Just this once. What harm can it do? I’ll

make sure we use protection…

The

cool night air is a relief from the sweaty heat of the club. We

stagger through the fire escape door into an alleyway, and he picks

me up like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist; he

presses me against the brick wall under a street light and kisses me

again, harder this time, sucking my lower lip into his mouth before

biting down on it and making me yelp with delight. His hands palm my

needy tits, and I feel my nipples peak. Sweet Jesus, I’m so wet I

could come right now.

So,

princesa,”

he breathes, “you staying on the island long?” His voice is deep

and melodic, but it doesn’t sound Spanish. It sounds… Welsh. No,

that can’t be right. I must be in an alcohol-induced fog.

Just

for the weekend,” I manage to say between panting breaths. I run my

hands over his ripped abs. God, he’s hot. I lean my weight into the

wall and brace myself.

He

pulls at my knickers, his fingers delving, testing. “Gonna fuck

you, princesa.

Is that what you want?”

Oh,

yes, fuck me, please,” I groan.

He

reaches into his pocket and withdraws a foil packet, ripping it open

with his teeth.

But

a shout echoes down the passageway and a skinny young man comes

running up to us. He holds out a cell phone, and gives it to my

Ibizan (as I’ll think of him for the next six months). It’s then

that I notice the tattoo of a scorpion on his hand… it burns its

way into my consciousness like a branding iron, its tail raised ready

to sting. I shiver to myself.

He

puts me down and holds the phone to his ear, his blue eyes meeting

mine. “I’m sorry, Beth. There’s been some trouble at home.” A

pause. “Really nice meeting you, but I have to go.” He kisses me

briefly on the forehead, and I notice the regret in his expression.

It’s

ok,” I say, even though it isn’t. I was burning up for him. “Hope

you get the trouble sorted.”

Me

too,” he gives a hollow laugh.

I

watch him stride away from me, and sensible Beth’s voice in my head

tells me I’ve had a lucky escape. Six months later, I learn she

couldn’t have been more wrong.









SC Daiko is a romance junkie who loves writing about strong heroines and hot alpha males. Originally from the UK, she now lives in Italy with her husband and two cats.
Nothing makes her happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors, and she feels it a privilege to be a part of the book world.




She loves to be stalked, and you can find her on 

Facebook 

Twitter 

Amazon 

Instagram and Goodreads 

Follow her blog  and sign up for her newsletter. She won’t spam you and there are giveaways from time to time.




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