Blurb：
From childhood crush to forbidden flames, **Shay**’s heart has always belonged to **Easton Connor**—her brother **Carter**’s best friend and the NFL’s newest rising star. But when a tequila-fueled night reveals hidden desires, seventeen-year-old Shay questions if her lifelong dream of loving **Easton** is a fantasy…or a fate.
As **Easton** grapples with his draft night success and unexpected pull toward **Shay**, secrets unravel: her "shameful innocence," his fear of leaving home, and a chemistry that defies **Carter**’s warnings. Can their bond survive NFL fame, forbidden attraction, and **Shay**’s shattered faith in fairy tales?
Dive into a bittersweet saga of **first love**, **brother’s best friend trope**, and the ache of wanting what you can’t have. Perfect for fans of emotional coming-of-age romance with **NFL star heroes**, **plus-size heroines**, and **friends-to-lovers tension** that burns hotter than a lime-soaked tequila shot.
Content：
Prelude
Shay
I was seven when I fell in love with Easton Connor. He was four years older than me and best friends with my brother Carter, but that didn’t matter to me. I never thought of him as too old back then. Never thought of him as off-limits.
When I fell off my bike while racing down the street after my brothers, it was Easton who circled back to help me. Easton who took me inside, helped me clean the bits of gravel out of my knee, and then dabbed it with hydrogen peroxide. Easton who turned my tears into laughter by telling me about Carter’s inability to speak every time he saw his crush in class.
I decided right then that I was going to marry Easton. Because I was seven and didn’t understand the realities of romantic love. Because Easton hadn’t yet become the Easton Connor. Because I hadn’t hit puberty and become chubby Shay. Because I still believed in fairytales, I believed I would marry this boy with the light brown hair and blue-green eyes.
It was my secret. One I vowed to keep to myself until the time was right. Easton didn’t know my plans.
And I had no idea he’d break my heart.
***
Shay
April 27th, draft night, thirteen years ago
“Shay!” Easton hoists a shot glass in the air and wriggles it in offering. “Tequila? What do you say?”
Carter spins on him and frowns. “What the fuck, man? Don’t give my little sister alcohol.”
“Shit, sorry,” Easton says, but his mischievous eyes are on me as he says, “I always forget she’s so young.”
The tequila must be going to his head, because there’s no other explanation for the way he’s looking at me. His eyes drop to my mouth, and warmth spreads through me. If I didn’t know better, I might think that . . . No. That doesn’t make sense. This is Easton. My friend now, sure, but East is everything. Girls everywhere are crazy about him—a football star on the brink of NFL fame, he could have any woman he wanted.
Carter grabs a beer and leaves the kitchen and pushes out the back door to join the party. And then it’s just me and Easton. Alone with a bottle of tequila and the full shot glass that’s still in his hand.
He flashes a glance over his shoulder toward the back door. “Does Carter have any idea that you’re not a little girl anymore?” he asks, closing the distance between us.
I bite my bottom lip. My skin flushes hot when he’s this close, and I swear he’s looking at my lips again. Do I have something on my face? Spaghetti sauce from dinner or something? I discreetly wipe my mouth with the cuff of my sweatshirt—or as discreetly as I can when he’s so close.
Easton grins, as if he knows he’s making me uncomfortable and likes it. “Have you ever done this before?”
A thousand possibilities fly through my mind at that question—most of them involving the hands and mouth of the man asking. “Done what?”
He lifts the shot glass and sniffs the tequila. “A snakebite. Salt, tequila, lime.”
I shrug. I’ve had alcohol before. My family isn’t exactly puritanical when it comes to alcohol. But I’ve never done a shot, and certainly never a snakebite. Whatever that is. “How do you do it?”
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