“Enemies to lovers is one of my most favorite romance set
ups. The two are a match made in sexy, angsty heaven.” -- Jay Crownover, New
York Times bestselling author
Enemies, an all-new emotional, enemies to lovers romance
from New York Times bestselling author Tijan, is available now!
Gorgeous and charismatic, he became the town’s football god,
while I became the town’s invisible girl.
He went to a Division 1 school for football, while my father
was fired by his father.
His team won the National Championship, while my mother died
the same day.
He was a first round pick for the NFL ...
… while I made the worst decision of my life.
Now I’m in Texas trying to pick up the pieces of my
life.
But, Stone is here.
Stone is everywhere.
It doesn’t matter that disaster has struck my life
again.
It doesn’t matter that he’s the one trying to console
me.
It doesn’t matter that he’s the nation’s newest football
obsession.
Because for me, he always has been and always will be my
enemy.
Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2DzRCl1
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/EnemiesTijan
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Jennifer's Review
Another hit by Tijan. Enemies is such a great story. It has everything I love in it. Angst, lust, emotional turmoil. It hits you right where it counts.
Enemies starts off how you would expect. Two characters who hate each other. What you don't expect is what pulls them together. Or the many layers to the characters and story.
The writing style of this story is great. The pace of the story is steady. I loved the minor characters and how the author built the world. I cannot wait to reread this one!
Ratings Plot: 5/5 Characters: 5/5 Heat: 5/5 Writing Style: 5/5 Overall: 5/5
Excerpt
“Do not think I won’t pick you up and throw you in my truck,
head first and everything. I’m two seconds away.”
I stopped and stared at him.
Shit. He meant business. He was glaring at me with eyes that
said, “Do not fucking fuck with me, you fucking twit.”
Well. Then.
I sighed. I’ll try reasoning instead. “You’re going to drive
me to your house, and then I’ll pack whatever I need and call a cab to take me
all the way back to where I’m paying rent. It’s not worth it. Just let me grab
a cab now.”
A savage curse bit out, and then his eyes flashed.
His singular warning had been when he told me he was two
seconds away. In a flash, he grabbed me, and I was airborne, right into the
back of his truck. But he wasn’t done. He leapt up, grabbing the seatbelt over
me, and pulled it around me, clicking it in place. He had the door shut,
locked, and he was already going around the front before I could even push
myself upright and then start to reach for my seatbelt.
By then, he was inside, the engine on, and he shoved off
into traffic.
“This is stupid.”
“You’re right. You’re being stupid.” Cursing, he ducked down
as a car sped past us. They knew he was driving because they came up on his
driver’s side, their phones up and ready to go. It was a car full of teenage
girls. “Dammit.”
“Where do you live?”
He opened his mouth, then caught himself. His eyes narrowed
in the rearview mirror. “Why?”
I just smiled. “No reason.”
He continued to study me in between still watching the road,
and with a soft growl, he shook his head. “I’m not buying it. What? You’re
going to tell those girls who are trying to get a picture of me?”
“What’s the difference? I’ll know when you take me to your
house. What’s stopping me from posting it on Twitter, or even posting your
phone number?”
A litany of curses spewed from him, and the back of his neck
was getting red. I was having a heyday with this. It was more fun than I could
remember having in a long time.
Until he announced it, “I liked your mom.”
“What?”
“Your mom.” He moved into the far lane, settling back.
I was thinking we had a bit of drive from here, and he
settled an arm back on the passenger seat headrest.
“I always liked her. She made me cookies and muffins. And I
remember when she tried to teach us to bake cakes from scratch. You were
horrible and your cakes tasted terrible, but we’d lie to you. Both of
us.”
“You did not—” But I was remembering, and even I hadn’t
wanted to taste my cakes.
A tug at my mouth. “She’d wear that ugly yellow apron. She
hated that apron.”
“What? I loved that apron. Always felt like it was sunshine.
Made me feel warm, even in the winter.”
I noted softly, “That’s why she wore it. For you.”
His eyes lifted to the rearview mirror, holding mine a
second again. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah.” His
voice came out raspy. “She was a good woman, and a good mom. She was a good
wife. I could always tell.”
I snorted. “Why? Because she wasn’t wasting away like
yours?” Then, I winced. That sounded even bitchier to my own ears, more than I
thought it would be. “Shit. I’m sorr—”
“Because you guys laughed.” He kept on talking about my
family, ignoring what I’d so blatantly pointed out about his own, his face
hard. “My parents laughed when they were drunk, and only when they had a party.
When there were other people there to laugh with, never the two of them, never
the three of us. I was their only kid. I wouldn’t have known better except I
half grew up in your home, too, and what I remember the most about growing up
was that you guys laughed.”
My throat burned.
“Yeah, we did.” I looked out the window. A hollow feeling
starting to dig in my chest. “Until she died. We didn’t laugh much after
that.”
“You laughed until then?”
I nodded. I felt the chinks in my armor widening.
I remembered how he did adore my mom. The two acted as if
they were conspiring together during our baking lessons, and any time he was in
the house. He congregated around her. She congregated closer to him.
“You’re the son she never had.” Then, feeling bad about my
shot at his mom, “Your mom cooked for us. I remember that one time she tried to
teach us to make lasagna.”
He cracked a grin, barking a laugh. “You sucked at that,
too. I never knew lasagna noodles could come out hard like rocks until
yours.”
Fuck him, but I was grinning. I couldn’t help myself.
Those were good times, good memories before the shit ones
came. And they came soon after that lasagna disaster.
He quieted. “It wasn’t the same. My mom versus yours. We had
baking lessons at your house once a month, every first Sunday. My mom tried to
teach us how to make Caesar salad, the only second cooking session she gave us,
and that one we all got fine. It’s hard to screw up.”
“Says you. You’re perfect at everything.”
He didn’t reply.
I didn’t expect him to. It was true. He knew it. I knew it.
The entire nation knew it.
Then from him, “Not at being a friend.”
My stomach kicked.
Hell no. No way. He wasn’t getting back in. No fucking
way.
“Oh. God.” I groaned, throwing a hand up to hit my forehead.
“Can we not? Can we save the dramatics until I’m able to call a cab to take me
back to my place? For real. Enough bonding or whatever it is we were just
doing.”
He growled, “You are such a goddamn bitch.”
I retorted, “And you are such a goddamn prick. Drop me the
fuck off!”
“With fucking pleasure!”
He gunned the engine, shooting forward in traffic, and
weaving until we were nearing my exit. When he took it, I relaxed. The rest of
the way was tense and silent, and I knew both of us couldn’t wait to be rid of
the other. Then he pulled over to the curb. He didn’t make a move, his only
action just unlocking the door.
His head was turned halfway to me, his jaw clenching over
and over again.
Fine.
I shoved forward, my head only swimming a little bit as I
climbed out of his truck. Once I shut the door and turned around, he’d already
hit the engine, tearing away from the curb.
I only had the clothes on my back, on the side of the
street, but I’d never been so fucking grateful to be away from him.
Now, turning to the house I wasn’t sure I was still invited
to live in, I saw that all the lights were off. Lovely.
About Tijan
Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes
suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and
gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing
later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written
multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series,
and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new
YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a
man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.
Connect with Tijan
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Website: http://www.tijansbooks.com/
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