*~Blog Tour: The Off Season~*

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

 

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.  

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Excerpt:

There’s a bite in the air today that wasn’t here when I arrived last week, reminding me that fall is in full effect in Maple Lake. As if I could forget, the vibrant fall colors expand almost as far as my eye can see. Despite the bite to the air, it’s a beautiful day to be outdoors, which is a good thing, considering I’ve got quite the walk ahead of me today.
The small hardware store in town—the one that acts as the town’s grocery/convenience store as well—only has a limited selection of paint available. And none of the colors spoke to me for my living room. Fortunately, the town of Grover is only about fifteen miles away, and they have a full-blown Home Depot. Unfortunately, I don’t have a car. Fifteen miles is a hell of a lot longer walk than drive.
Ella would be furious if she knew I was walking all this way. But she’s recently returned to work after having the twins, and as much as I know she’d be willing to drive me, I know she’d hate the idea of having to take off work. And I’m too damn impatient to wait for the weekend.
I figure I can grab a few gallons and get a decent start. Then, when Saturday rolls around, I’ll have Ells drive me back, so I can get the rest. 
Besides, the fresh air will do me good. I’ve been cooped up in that house for far too many hours.
Twenty minutes into my walk, however, and I’m already starting to rethink this decision. The sun might be shining, but that doesn’t take away the chill that has settled into my nose and cheeks. I bury my hands deeper in my pockets, shrugging my shoulders up around my head to try to get some of the heat radiating off my midsection to my frozen face. 
It doesn’t work.
I’m too determined to turn around though. And, after a quick look around to ensure nobody is in my immediate vicinity, I do something I haven’t done since I was probably eight years old.
I start skipping.
My arms swing wide as I try to warm up my body, my knees coming almost to my chest with every movement. I know I must look ridiculous, but it seems to be helping. 
Deciding I might as well go all in, I start chanting my favorite nursery rhyme as I go.
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout,
“Here is my handle, here is my spout.”
I put one hand on my hip for the handle and curl my other arm into my best impression of a spout, skipping along the street the entire time. Hey, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.
“When I get all steamed up, hear me shout,
“Tip me over, and pour me out.”
I stop for a moment, bending over to the right, spilling my imaginary tea all over the road.
I giggle at the absurdity of my actions. But it doesn’t stop me from doing it again. 
I’m in the middle of my third rotation when I hear it. 
The sound of an engine.
Right. Behind. Me.
I was so caught up in my little song and dance, I didn’t even hear the vehicle approaching. 
And the fact that it’s now slowly crawling along behind me instead of flying past me makes me think the person inside must know me.
That means, it’s one of three people.
Charlie, Liv, or…

 

 

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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