The End Zone, a sexy friends to lovers romance from L.J. Shen is available NOW!
Jolie Louis is a smart girl.
She knows that her best friend, Sage Poirier, is a bad idea.
He’s a walking, talking cliché. The Adonis quarterback with the bulging biceps and harem of fangirls trailing behind him on campus like a stench you can’t get rid of.
Sadly, it is also the very reason she can’t seem to stay away from him.
No, wait. That’s not fair. They’re also roommates, at least until May, when they graduate from college.
Jolie is already straddling the line between friendship and more when Sage comes to her with an offer she cannot refuse: be his fake girlfriend and live for free for the rest of the semester.
She tells herself that she can handle it.
He’s just the boy she saved ten years ago, right?
Wrong. So very wrong.
He is a man now, and she is his captive
Heart, body, and soul…
** THE END ZONE is now available with an extended epilogue and surprise bonus content that will blow fans of L. J. Shen away! **
Lita T’s Review: 5 Stars
The End Zone by L J Shen. When I started reading this story it seemed like I had read it before. The fact is I had. This story was is the Team Player: The Anthology a compilation of stories by different authors. Each story had a common thread of sports player. I reread this story because just like the first time, I enjoyed this story. Sage and Jolie have been friends since they were 10. They have a special bond. He is now a super star college quarterback on his way to the NFL. Jolie is right there. Being roommates is not enough for him, he wants more than friendship. Jolie knows her friend is a manwhore but she isn’t willing to jeopardize their friendship. Sage wants more so he comes up with a plan to get the woman he loves. This is their story. A cute novella with a little kick. This was a love story I didn’t mind reading again. I give this story 5 stars.
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Excerpt from the Vicious extended epilogue:
There’s menace in this voice, and I grew to love the man who carries it like a loaded weapon. Every word is a sharp edge of a knife, sinking into my skin.
Open your mouth.
Repeat after me: Vicious, I’m yours.
Most married couples fall into a blissful, albeit drowsy domestic routine of laundry, family dinners, and Netflix.
Most married couples are not Vicious and me.
We were different from the beginning. A yin and a yang, fighting over which color took more space, black or pink. We started out as enemies, and I think that, although we are still crazy in love, we will always be rivals on some level. We will always be passionate, and angry, and desperate.
We will always be us.
“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders from people who aren’t my boss,” I say coolly, dropping my funky, colorful bag at the door and erasing the distance between us in wide, confident steps. He is standing in front of me, his Armani suit impeccable, his raven hair slicked back, his icicle blue eyes devouring me in ways that make being eaten alive worth it. He scans the length of me, a slight sneer on his face. I’m still me, even so many years later. The tips of my light brown hair are still cherry-blossom pink. The soles of my shoes are yellow, for Christ’s sake.
“That could be arranged, if you continue your sass.”
“How is that going to work, Vicious? Are you going to re-employ me against my will?” For the past eighteen years, I’ve been managing my own gallery in L.A. A gallery he bought for me shortly before our engagement. I have a career, an income of my own. Truth is, he gave me a push, but the entire journey to where I am today was made by me, and only me, and he knows it.
He cups my cheek, yanks me by the hem of my funky powder blue blouse with little suns into his body and leans down for a kiss. Our lips brush briefly, promising scattered clothes and ragged breaths, just as the door swings open and our son walks in. He slams the door behind him, his eyes still intently glued to his phone.
Vaughn is a spitting image of his dad. So much so, that sometimes it scares me.
At sixteen, he has the walk, talk, and air of Vicious when the latter was a senior in high school. Rangy, strong body, thick-fringed blue eyes, skin so fair he looks like he defies the sun, and cheekbones you could use as a sharp weapon. More than anything, he has that uniquely-pissed facial expression that tells you that he just doesn’t care.
Not about your problems.
Not about your feelings.
And certainly not about what you think about him.
About L.J. Shen:
L.J. Shen is an International #1 best-selling author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
Before she’d settled down, L.J. (who thinks referring to herself in the third person is really silly, by the way) traveled the world, and collected friends from all across the globe. Friends who’d be happy to report that she is a rubbish companion, always forgets people’s birthdays and never sends Christmas cards.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends, reading, HBO, Netflix and internet-stalking Stephen James. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
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