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  Reader Praise for Poppy Parkes

  “…Sexy, bold, and daring…”

  “…Brilliantly written…”

  “One of the best, well written romance novels I've read. It wasn't predictable and left me guessing how it would end.”

  “Short and sizzling.”

  “I absolutely adore this book.”

  “Finding Me and You is a fun, light-hearted romance. …This series is a good one to try.”

  “Looking forward to seeing what Poppy Parkes has in store for us next.”

  First Time Player

  A Geek Romance

  Poppy Parkes

  Copyright © 2018 by Poppy Parkes & She of the Wild

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For those who still believe in love at first sight.

  Contents

  1. Wes

  2. Ana

  3. Wes

  4. Ana

  5. Wes

  6. Ana

  7. Wes

  8. Ana

  9. Wes

  10. Ana

  11. Wes

  12. Ana

  13. Wes

  14. Ana

  15. Wes

  16. Epilogue

  A Love Note For You

  Also by Poppy Parkes

  About the Author

  1

  Wes

  Wes surveyed the contents of his small suitcase. Sure, he lived in the same city as the MNC -- Miscellaneous Nerdery Convention was the weight of its full title -- but he'd still booked a room in the hotel just outside the venue. It was not only his first time attending a con, but he was also presenting his app for the first time. He didn't want to waste time or energy driving back and forth to his apartment when he needed to focus on garnering attention for his digital work.

  He'd tucked a couple of changes of clothing into the bag. Surveying his modest apartment, he ran through a mental checklist of anything else he might need, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

  His apartment was small by choice, not necessarily by need. Not yet, at least, he hoped. Against the advice and wishes of his family, his colleagues, his friends -- hell, probably any clear-thinking person, he'd left his law career to create apps for gamers.

  His parents had expected him to be their golden child, high-achieving, a credit to their lofty legacy. Going from high school football star to the fast track to becoming the next partner in his father's law firm had been a matter of course for as far back as Wes's memory spanned.

  But law hadn't agreed with him -- the long hours, petty arguments, manipulation of the tiniest of loopholes. It had ground against his soul, and each night he'd head home with a sense of having been pulverized, beaten, exhausted.

  He was only twenty-eight years old. Way too young to feel so old.

  The one lifeline to a sense of normalcy was the video gaming habit he'd picked up from his friends as a preteen. He'd meticulously hidden it from his parents through adolescence. Now he used it to decompress after work.

  Although Wes was well-versed across all titles and platforms, his particular favorite game was Overhorde -- a multi-player first-person shooter that digitally teamed up players from across the globe to defeat the creeping and dangerous apathy casting its pallid shadow across the in-game world.

  He liked it because, as stylized and unrealistic as the gorgeous characters and animation were, the game's overall storyline wasn't all that different from the challenges in the real world -- the world's leading nations turning brittle at the foundation, more and more young people feeling too jaded too soon, a pervading sense of hopelessness that perhaps only a superhero might puncture.

  He could relate.

  As he'd played, he found himself drawn more and more back into the illicit digital circles of his teenage years. He trawled old and new haunts of online message boards, web coding circles, and YouTube channels for information. First he looked for how to best play his favorite games, and then how to contribute to the fan bases of said games.

  HordeGuru, the app he was attending MNC to promote, was the first fruit of these labors -- and Wes had no intention of it being the last. He'd grown tired of trying to parse the helpful gaming tutorials from the useless ones. His solution was to create his app as an aggregator of all the best OverHorde guides from the gaming masters.

  And Overhorde fans had needed it, because gamers had quickly begun to download the app, the four and five star reviews adding up. It had been clunky, slow at first. But he'd cut his hours at the firm to invest more time in polishing the app. Soon he'd opened a crowdfunding campaign on KickinStartUps to raise cash to improve the app's design, skyrocket its bandwidth, and, eventually, hire a small team of developers to maintain it and help Wes build more web tools and apps for the savvy gamer.

  It was all working. The exponentially increasing downloads and demand for support had warranted Wes quitting his dad's law firm all together.

  Warranted it to him, at least.

  His parents had not felt the same.

  If he recalled correctly -- and he tried hard to forget that conversation -- Wes was reasonably certain that the words "heaping shame and ignominy upon our family name" had emerged from his mother's coral-painted lips, and his father had roared about the disowning of certain disreputable children who insisted on ruining their own lives.

  And yet . . . Wes felt incredible. Better than he perhaps ever had, because he was, at last, master of his own fate, and the voyage wasn't going half bad. He had created a quality product that users wanted, and they wanted more of his digital wares. Sure, he was a first-time app creator. But he'd made a start to be proud of.

  His open laptop blinked to life as a notification popped onto the screen. It was from KickinStartUps.

  Wes strode to his desk and clicked through to the message, holding his breath as he read.

  Hello, KickinStartUps creator. We're pleased to inform you that your campaign for HordeGuru has achieved its next level of patronage. The funds you've raised up to this benchmark will be deposited in your linked account within two (2) business days...

  "Yes." The exultation was loud in the small bedroom, almost embarrassingly loud, but what did he care? He'd hit his next goal -- which meant that, after the con, he'd have the cash to look into hiring a team. His own team.

  Take that, Mom and Dad, he thought, nodding to himself. He was doing this. And now he could exhibit HordeGuru at MNC wearing an additional armor of confidence.

  He was certain that the weekend would go well, ensuring a generous influx of new and soon-to-be very satisfied Overhorde players -- and new paying customers for him.

  This weekend, Wes knew he'd be unstoppable.

  2

  Ana

  Ana frowned up at Lindsey, her store manager. The model-esque blonde returned her boss's scowl, furrowing her brow right back at the shorter woman.

  "You know I've actually managed this store before, right?" Lindsey said. "On my own. Without you."

  Ana rolled her eyes, but it was mostly at herself. She knew that Lindsey was perfectly capable of handling Bandwidth for the weekend while she herself scouted MNC for promising new tech and games.

  But still. The computer and video game shop was her baby, born against all the odds -- or at least, everyone else's opinions of what she ought to be doing with her life, if retail held a bright future, or if a twenty-something woman had the digital balls to hold her own in such a male-dominated and often toxic industry.

  So when she took one of her very, very seldom breaks from t
he store, it felt like a big deal. Even when it actually wasn't.

  "I know, Lindsey. I know." Ana sighed. "It's just me being, well --"

  "Neurotic and over controlling, but with the best of intentions?" Lindsey offered, her eyes widening angelically.

  Ana snorted. "Well, I was going to say it's me being me, but you're not wrong."

  "I know." Lindsey tossed her waist-length mane over a shoulder. Ana tried to swallow her jealousy. Her manager had perpetually yet naturally tan skin, was fashionable in an easy sort of way, and possessed eyes the color of the Mediterranean -- or at least the hue Ana imagined the Mediterranean to be. In a word, Lindsey was physically perfect, with a keen mind to boot.

  Whereas Ana herself was petite with tangled chocolate hair, a closet stuffed with slouchy sweaters and graphic tees referencing her favorite movies and games, and was the black sheep of her very Catholic Mexican-American family.

  She surveyed Bandwidth's eggplant-colored interior strung with twinkle lights and stuffed with anything and everything a nerd could want. She chewed on her bottom lip and wondering if there was anything she'd forgotten to relay to Lindsey -- as if the young woman wasn't capable of picking up the store phone and calling Ana if something dire came up.

  Ana was damn proud of her store. Not only did it more than hold its own against the chain gaming shop in the city -- her sole competitor -- but it had been voted the favorite local digital gaming store three years running.

  She felt certain that it was because Bandwidth was more than just a retail store -- it was a hub for the local geek community. Sure, she had a full selection of the most popular console and PC games as well as related merch and gifts. But Ana was a purist, so she also had several locked display cases of classic titles and systems from the eighties and nineties, like original GameBoy cartridges, a SEGA Gamegear handheld system, and the very first iteration of Duke Nukem, made for the practically prehistoric MS-DOS.

  Ana hadn't been sure how well these digitally ancient items would sell, but she couldn't resist stocking them -- and, to her delight, her customers couldn't resist buying them.

  For customers who wanted more than a game source, she had purchased the storefront next to hers, knocked out the wall, and turned half of Bandwidth into a gaming hangout.

  There was the chrome bar circled by fifties-style soda shop stools where she and her employees served soda and energy drinks, plus glass jars full of candy sold by the pound. Adjacent to the snack bar sat several squashy couches circling a television hooked up to both the latest XBOX, Playstation, and Wii console incarnations with a generous amount of controllers to go around and a rotating selection of multiplayer games to play right then and there -- the modern day console version of a LAN party.

  She loved every inch of the place, but if she had to pick an absolute favorite aspect of Bandwidth, it would have to be the back wall lined with vintage pay-to-play arcade machines, like Pac-Man, Asteroids, Street Fighter, and pinball. Next to that was a corner completely devoted to Dance Dance Revolution, with two full arcade set-ups that were perfect for geek-style dance-offs. She'd resolved more than one customer dispute via DDR dance-off, and she made her quarreling employees go dance for a few rounds to keep bad feelings from festering among the staff. It almost always worked.

  It was important to Ana that Bandwidth not only be a cool place to shop and hang out, but also to work at. And even though the gaming world sorely under-served the female population, she made sure that at least half her staff was female, non-binary, or gender fluid. A lifelong gamer herself, she'd had more than enough of the toxic misogyny that fueled commonly-encountered geek community bullshit like sexual harassment and doxxing. She had zero tolerance for it in her shop, from both customers and employees.

  "Seriously," said Lindsey. "Get out of here. The con opens soon. You deserve a break."

  "You know I'm going for work, right?"

  "Yeah, but you love work, and you love games."

  "But it's also work."

  Lindsey sighed, exasperated. "What I'm trying to say is let yourself enjoy it a little, okay?" Her voice softened. "You really do deserve it."

  Ana smiled, the expression feeling awkward. "Thanks. Okay. I will try." She stabbed a finger toward Lindsey. "But call me if something happens. Especially if you get a shoplifter."

  "We hardly ever get shoplifters, and I know the store policy on the matter." Lindsey arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

  "I know. But still, it happens sometimes."

  "Rarely."

  "Occasionally."

  "Hardly ever."

  "Just -- call, okay? For my sanity." Ana said. "To appease my neurotic and over-controlling nature. Please?"

  "Fiiiine." Lindsey leaned in for a hug, which Ana stiffly returned even though it warmed her. Linds was one of the few employees that had seen through her cool shell to become one of Ana's much-loved friends. "I promise I won't burn down the store," Lindsey murmured into Ana's ear.

  Ana pulled back with a shrug. "Burn it down and I'll sue you, girlfriend."

  "Naturally," Lindsey returned coolly. Then those aqua eyes softened again. "But I hope you do have fun. And don't let the men get you down, unless --" she leaned in conspiratorially "-- they're going down on you."

  An incredulous laugh barked from Ana's lips. "Fat chance of that. These cons are all late-twenty-something dude bros living in their parents' basements and jerking off to Lara Croft cinematics. Not exactly my taste."

  "I like your optimism."

  Another eyeroll from Ana. "If I manage to meet a smart, vaguely handsome, kinda fit, sort of well put together, moderately interesting guy at MNC, I'll give you a raise."

  "That's the spirit." Lindsey shooed Ana toward the front door. "Seriously, have fun."

  Ana hauled open the door to the sound of a tiny roar from the motion-activated Game of Thrones dragon perched above it. "No promises." She winked. "Text me if you miss me."

  Lindsey blew a kiss as Ana stepped out into the early spring sunshine, heading for her car already packed with the few supplies she needed for the con.

  3

  Wes

  Wes shifted the cardboard box containing his conference table setup, peering over the shoulder of the person in front of him. He'd been waiting nearly twenty minutes at the presenter check-in table, and the end was in sight -- he was just one person away from the table.

  The check-in was in the entryway of the event center. It was housed in the space between two sliding doors, and the line wound its way outside.

  The line moved, and he found himself staring at a grey-haired woman wearing a black tee with the words "The Bronze" printed in bold white letters. She was not the first person he'd seen in a t-shirt and jeans -- in fact, in his suit and tie, he was just about the only person not wearing a t-shirt. Apparently the professional dress code at geek cons was vastly different from the standard he was used to at his dad's law firm.

  The woman's eyes raked up and down his grey suit and crisply knotted blue tie, a single eyebrow peaked. "In costume already, huh? Let me guess -- Agent 47? Or maybe one of The Turks from Final Fantasy VII?"

  Wes managed a weak laugh, feeling his neck grow red with embarrassment. "Oh, yeah. Something like that, I guess."

  Her interested gaze narrowed to one of suspicion. "Are you not in costume?"

  Wes shoved his registration confirmation slip at her. "I'm here with HordeGuru. Table sixty-four, I believe."

  Casting a last disappointed glance at him, the woman bent her head to the slip, scribbling a few notes on her own papers on the table. Then she reached beneath its surface to emerge with a white plastic bag, passing it to Wes.

  "Your presenter pass is in the bag, along with a weekend itinerary and map of the venue." She spoke as if she'd said the same words a hundred times already. Which, Wes thought, she probably had. "You are allowed entry to the event space one hour before and one hour after the con is open to the public. And if you're late to get to your booth one of the mo
rnings, your spot will go to someone on the waitlist."

  "Got it," he said. "Anything else I need to know? This is my first con as a presenter."

  This information made her brighten. "Have fun, newbie. And, uh," she glanced again at the tie knotted at his throat, "maybe try to loosen up a little."

  "Um, thanks," Wes said, and peeled away from the line. Wes strode through the second sliding door. He paused to take his pass and the lanyard it was hitched to out of the white bag and loop it around his neck. Then, shoving the bag into the box and shifting the whole thing to his other arm, Wes took a look around.

  The foyer in which he stood was brilliantly lit, white-painted with windows for a ceiling and, most of all, huge -- bigger, almost, than he'd expected the whole venue to be. The large hall curved around out of sight in both directions, marked by doors that Wes assumed led into either one of the main event halls or other smaller conference areas.

  If this was just the foyer, he had no idea what the presenter hall would be like. Glancing at a few arrowed signs, Wes set off in what he hoped was the right direction.

  After a few minutes' walk around the entrance hall, he ducked through a white door and found himself blinking in a dim grey-ceilinged room the size of several football fields. And in this room were rows and rows and rows of tables -- booths selling costumes, merch, and everything a nerd could want. He could even see one selling standup cardboard characters from video games and movies.