Hat Trick CR Excerpt GROUP Banner.jpg

Release Date: November 7, 2019

Genre: M/M Sports Romance

Cover Design: Kellie Dennis / Book Cover by Design

Model: Preston T.

Photographer: Wander Aguiar


Soren: You know what’s not fun? Going on a Fiji vacation with four other couples. Especially when recently single. What’s even worse is when a past hook-up arrives unannounced. Not only do we have a history, but he’s ten years younger and a famous rock star. Most importantly, he’s my friend’s little brother. Being trapped on an island with Jet Jackson is going to be sweet torture because all I want is another chance. I just don’t think he’s going to give it to me. Jet: You know what’s not fun? Escaping one guy who broke my heart only to run into another. Being on the road for three years has left me exhausted. The last thing I want is for Caleb ‘Soren’ Sorensen to try for round two. I can’t fight my draw to him. I’ve never been able to. I’m suddenly back to being the naïve kid who stupidly lusted after a hockey player. All I can think is if I let Soren get close, I’ll walk away from this vacation with a double broken heart.



Jet stares down at his hands as he plays the guitar effortlessly. When he starts singing, it’s soft and he still doesn’t raise his head.

It takes a couple of lines to realize it’s a slower version of that pop song “Someone Else’s Perfect” by Eleven.

The song completely transforms coming out of Jet’s mouth. It’s no longer a teenybopper love song, but one of heartbreak and angst. I guess I’ve never listened to the lyrics before.

Under your spell,

Living in hell,

You say I’m perfect,

Too good to be someone’s reject,

But that’s what you did when you walked away,

You left me to find myself

Something niggles at me. Whether it’s the way he’s singing it or that we both relate to it, I don’t know. It’s like he’s singing it to me. About me.

Then he finally raises his head and holds my gaze just as he sings a telling line.

You said I was perfect …

Perfect for someone else.


Holy. Shit.

That phrase is in the song repeatedly, and every time he sings it, more pain comes through in his voice. It gets to the point where I’m sure this isn’t an Eleven song. It can’t be. While Jet has the ability to turn any song into his own, this is different. It not only comes across as genuine, but the heartache and rejection make me feel guilty—as if I did something wrong.

He finishes the song and leaves the stage before people can beg him for another encore.

Only, he doesn’t come back to our table. He beelines it outside, leaving the rest of us staring at each other wondering what happened.

I’m the only one who knows for sure.

Matt stands to go after him, but I push him back down.

“I’ll go.”

I follow where he went but reach outside and have no idea which way he’s gone. Following the path down to the wharf, I check to see if he’s sitting on the dock, but it’s empty. It’s on my way back that I see movement against the side of the main building.

Jet paces back and forth, running a hand through his hair and muttering words I can’t make out, but as I get closer, I hear “Get it together, Jay. Hold it to-fucking-gether.”

I step through the row of palm trees lining the path. “Jet.”

He freezes. “Of course, it’s you.” He goes back to pacing.

“That song …”

Jet stares but doesn’t stop moving.

“You wrote it.”

This makes him pause again. “I … I—”

“About me.”

He composes himself. “Conceited much? You think you get more than one song?”

“I knew ‘Hat Trick Heartbreak’ was about me and not Ollie and Lennon.” I take a step forward. “But tell me I’m wrong about this one.”

Jet’s mouth opens and then closes.

I step closer again. “Jet.”

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?”

“To remind you that I know the real you. Not Jay. I still know you as the aspiring musician reveling over his first fan.”

“The naïve kid, you mean.” Bitterness doesn’t suit the bubbly guy I know. Or … knew, I guess.

I keep moving closer. He steps back. We keep going until his back is against the wall and my hand is above his head, boxing him in.

“I’ve never seen you as a kid. Never.”


“I’ve tried to get myself to think of you that way, and when you’re not in my presence, it’s easy to write you off as Matt Jackson’s little brother. But I can’t when we’re in the same room sharing the same air. I can’t when you’re two feet in front of me, and all I want to do is reach for you. Touch you. Kiss you.”

“Then what was all the overprotective shit you pulled that night in Tampa?”

“That wasn’t me trying to protect you. That was me wanting to claim you.”

Jet breathes hard. “Oh, holy mother of gay Jesus.”

“I had no right to act or feel that way about you back then.”

Our eyes lock on each other, and for a moment in time, we’re both frozen.

“I’m sorry I wrote two emo songs about you,” Jet says quietly.

I laugh. “So, I am right.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever picked up on that. Everyone thinks Eleven wrote that song.”

“Maybe because I experienced it with you …”

Jet shakes his head. “No, it’s you. You understand me more than anyone ever has. More than any groupie who’s tried to explain my songs to me. You came out because you knew ‘He’s Mine’ wasn’t just a stupid love song.” He reaches for me, his fingertips trailing down my cheek. “It’s you.”

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About the Author

Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff. She doesn’t take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart. With a short attention span that rivals her son’s, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF. She’s also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don’t make sense to anyone else.

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