Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1) Read Online Riley Hart

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Playing for Keeps Series by Riley Hart

Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)

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(Playing for Keeps #1) Rookie Move

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Riley Hart

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Falling for a teammate who also happens to be your brother's best friend? Total rookie move.
McRAE: I’ve had a crush on my brother’s best friend since the moment I laid eyes on him four years ago.
Warner Ramsey is 225 pounds of pure hotness, a media darling, and one of the best NFL quarterbacks in the league. Hell, he’s the reason I figured out I’m solidly bi.
It was easy to keep my crush under control when I was in college. Now, we play for the same team, and every time he talks smack, I want to shut him up. With my mouth.
But I’ve got other things I should be focusing on, like dominating my rookie year with the Denver Rush and finally stepping out of my brother’s shadow. Besides, Ramsey’s straight.
RAMSEY: I’ve never tapped into my bisexuality—never told anyone except my best friend that I’m bi. All I want is to play football and not draw media attention like my dad, who got ousted from the league.
Garrett McRae is my biggest temptation. He’s gotten under my skin for years. I’m supposed to be looking out for him, not thinking about getting him naked.
And definitely not the kiss we shared. That I somehow instigated. It was stupid, and not like me, but God, it was hot.
We’re teammates, with million-dollar contracts on the line. And yet…is a little experimentation really so bad?
Rookie Move is a low-angst, high-heat sports romance in the Playing for Keeps series.
Books in Series:

Playing for Keeps Series by Riley Hart

Books by Author:

Riley Hart



The foyer of Ty Roberts’s mansion had a giant fucking compass embedded in the floor.

“Jesus,” I breathed out, staring at the ornate tile and stonework that probably cost more than my life. “Is this thing here so we don’t get lost? Is that onyx?”

Houston struggled to shut the equally gigantic mahogany door we’d just walked through. It was twice as tall as him, and he’d had to put actual effort into pushing it open—impressive, considering how much he’d bulked up since being drafted to the Denver Rush last year.

“I think it’s semiprecious stone, yeah. Something like that. Damn, Ty needs to oil this thing.” Houston planted a palm against the door, gave it a hard push, and it finally shut all the way. Even the creaking of the door settling back into the frame sounded expensive. Good luck to the next person trying to enter. “If you get lost, just stand still, and I’ll find you eventually.” Houston grinned.

“Think there’s a rack of lingerie around here?” That had happened once in a department store when I was a kid. My mom and Houston were trying on shoes, and I’d wandered off. Houston had found me underneath a rack of lacy women’s panties and garters, playing with the fasteners.

He chuckled and ruffled my hair. “Maybe. Ty does like his women.”

I swatted his hand. “Cut it out with the hair-ruffling shit, okay? I’m an adult now.”

“On a technicality. You still have the rest of senior year to go, jackass. And I don’t care how old you are. You’ll always be my sweet wittle baby bro.”

I batted his hand away again when he reached out to pinch my cheek, and Houston’s laughter echoed in the cavernous space.

To either side of us, staircases swept up to the second floor, but the action seemed to be ahead of us. Houston ticked his chin toward the sound of voices and the thump of a heavy bassline coming from beyond the foyer. “C’mon, let’s… Wait.” He clapped a big paw on my shoulder and spun me to face him before I could take a step. “We need to cover some ground rules.”

“No, we don’t.” I scowled. “I can take care of myself, and you’d better not lead me around introducing me as your ‘baby brother.’” I already knew it was inevitable; he’d do it just to fuck with me the way he always did, and I was just encouraging him by mentioning it in the first place.

“Then behave.” He cocked a grin that sobered quickly. “This is Ty we’re talking about, so there’ll be a lot of alcohol here. A bar. Definitely kegs. Do not drink too much and get me in trouble with Mom and Dad.”

“I promise,” I said solemnly.

Houston narrowed his eyes at the twitch of my lips. “Seriously, Garrett. If you do something stupid like spew on Mom’s ‘nice’ couch again, it’ll be your funeral, and they’ll never let you come out with me again.”

Okay, that was better motivation. We weren’t even fully in the party yet, and I already wanted to be invited back to all of them. Actually, fuck that. I wanted to be the one hosting shindigs like this in a big mansion someday. And, for the record, I’d only spewed on the couch a little. It had come right up with some Resolve, even though the vodka had been mixed with Hawaiian Punch. Grandma Ruth’s rug had taken the brunt of that bad decision, and Mom had been looking for an excuse to get rid of it anyway. I no longer drank anything mixed with Hawaiian Punch. My gut revolted at the mere thought. Vodka, eh, that was a little different.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good. Swear.”

Deciding I sounded sincere enough, Houston checked my shoulder and brushed past me. “Onward, then.”

The music and cacophony of voices grew louder as we passed through one archway and then another that led to a sunken living room packed with people. French doors were open to a patio and offered a glimpse of a sparkling pool beyond, lit with LED lights that gradually shifted in color from blue to purple. I almost tripped over my own feet as we descended the steps because I was so preoccupied staring at everything and everyone. “This is crazy.”

“Huh?” Houston cast a glance over his shoulder at me, then hooked his elbow through mine. “Oh, crazy, yeah. It’s weird how fast I’ve gotten used to it, but it’s a lot, right?”

It was a whole hell of a lot. A lot of people, a lot of music, a lot of booze, a lot of stuff on the walls that even I could recognize as nice art.

I spotted Houston’s teammates easily—I’d been watching their games like a hawk since the season started. Beautiful women surrounded them, even the less attractive guys on the team, and I watched as Houston’s gaze landed briefly on a few of them before moving on.