See My Review Below!!
The Hate Game by Winter Renshaw
Talon Gold is a lot of things: good at football, bad at love. Obsessed with scoring, refuses to play by the rules. Cruel. Relentless. Brilliant. Intoxicatingly attractive.
Despite his demanding reputation and propensity for being the most arrogant a-hole ever to strut Pacific Valley University’s picturesque campus, everyone wants a piece of him: coaches, scouts, and pretty little campus fangirls with pouty lips and perfect top knots.
But Talon … he only wants a piece of me.
And four straight years of infuriating rejection means I’m almost positive he’d take a night with me over a national championship trophy.
But I’m no fool—he only wants me because he can’t have me. And with graduation approaching, time is running out. He’s more desperate than ever, pulling out all the stops and doing everything in his power to get in my good graces.
They say, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
But to that I say, “Why not both?”
I have my reasons …
Sorry, BMOC. This victory? Not going to happen.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” I tell him.
He scoffs, taking a sip of his beer.
“These are your glory days,” I add. “You should enjoy them. Take full advantage. You shouldn’t be pretending to be annoyed by all this attention all because you’re trying to impress some girl who doesn’t even want to be impressed.”
“Not trying to impress you.”
“Bullshit,” I say, laughing. “You’re a liar.”
“All right.” He nudges his shoulder against mine. “Maybe I am. Just a little.”
“Well it ends here, tonight,” I say.
“Just like that?” he asks. “And just because you say it does?”
“Pretty much.” I stand, stretching my legs. A small shiver works its way through me and from here, the house looks warm and glowing and a million times more inviting than it did before.
Talon rises, towering over me with his eyes locked on mine. “Why do you hate me, Irie?”
“Just because you’re not my type and I don’t want to date you doesn’t mean that I hate you, Talon. I don’t even know you—how can I hate someone I don’t know?”
“How do you know I’m not your type if you won’t take the time to get to know me?” he asks.
Fair enough. “Maybe I don’t know you, but I know enough about you to know you’re not my type.”
“Fuck types.”
“Says the guy who’s fucked half the school.” I fold my arms and glance down. That was a little harsh even if it’s true.
“That’s what you think?” he asks.
I challenge myself to meet his accusatory stare, to own my stance. “I told you earlier … you have a reputation. I’ve heard girls talk about hooking up with you. I’ve heard about the way you treat anyone who so much as thinks they might have a chance with you. Forgive me if I’m trying to steer clear of your warpath.”
“Irie, you are the reason for that warpath,” he says, his tone callous and his jaw flexing.
“So I’m supposed to be flattered? You treat other girls like crap because they’re not me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“You’re oversimplifying.”
“Am I though?” I angle my head to the side, my mouth twisted as I fight a smirk. Maybe I’m flirting. Maybe I’m also making a point.
Talon is looking at me like he’s two seconds from devouring me—my mouth specifically. His tongue wets his full lips and his left hand tightens at his sides, like he has to refrain from allowing himself to touch me.
There’s a lot of clout standing before me.
An insane amount of restraint.
He’s mere inches from the only thing he wants—the only conquest he can’t have—and it’s physically torturing him.
To wield this kind of control over someone so powerful is a sensation unlike any I’ve experienced before … and in an unexpected turn of events, my nipples harden, my sex tingles, and my lips swell with a curious ache.
In my defense, I’m not normally aroused by torturing people.
In his defense, he’s not normally used to reoccurring rejection.
This is quite the standoff we have going.
Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.
And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here —> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j
My Review…
Another fantastic story from Winter Renshaw.
Grit, determination, and perseverance is the name of this game!
This story of Irie and Talon is all that and more.
Irie is finishing up her college degree, she is far away from where she grew up and the demons that she left behind there. She has completely changed herself and she is focused on her goals. In classic Ms. Renshaw fashion, she leaves Irie’s true history a mystery until it needs to be revealed. And it kept me guessing until the end. I love that about Ms. Renshaw’s stories.
Talon is like a smoke and mirror show. Nobody knows what he is truly about, but he plays up his baller image because it’s easier that way. He has held a torch for Irie since he first saw her years ago and he knows he is running out of time to show Irie who he really is and he will stop at nothing to do so.
Even with everything and everyone against them, Irie and Talon discover each other in the truest sense. They actually “see” each other and it’s was lovey to read the push and pull of their relationship throughout the pages of this story.
I have yet to read a Winter Renshaw story that I haven’t absolutely loved. The Hate Game is no exception!
Bibliophile Chloe 
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