For New York Kings' first baseman Scott Harper, scoring women is easy. He's ready to get naked anytime, anywhere. But when a hacker leaks his nude selfies, he's unprepared for the scrutiny his full-frontals receive.
Carrie McKenzie has a love-hate relationship with her body. No longer the fat chick guys can ignore, she wins the job as the Kings' clubhouse reporter. With her svelte new figure, she nabs an exclusive interview with Scott to get his take on the scandal.
However, the two are already on a first-name basis after Scott came on to her in the hotel bar, and she woke up in his arms. The problem is that Scott doesn't do relationships and Carrie doesn't date jocks, yet the way they burn up the sheets is deserving of more than just a one-night stand. Scott shows Carrie that he has a sweet, caring side beneath all the swagger. But can she really trust her heart to the biggest player in the game?
Carrie McKenzie has a love-hate relationship with her body. No longer the fat chick guys can ignore, she wins the job as the Kings' clubhouse reporter. With her svelte new figure, she nabs an exclusive interview with Scott to get his take on the scandal.
However, the two are already on a first-name basis after Scott came on to her in the hotel bar, and she woke up in his arms. The problem is that Scott doesn't do relationships and Carrie doesn't date jocks, yet the way they burn up the sheets is deserving of more than just a one-night stand. Scott shows Carrie that he has a sweet, caring side beneath all the swagger. But can she really trust her heart to the biggest player in the game?
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CHECK OUT THE REST OF THE SERIES;
Night Games (Chase & Grey)
Game Changer (Brooks & Sasha)
"You've been awfully quiet,” Carrie says, lying next to me in my childhood bed.
"I'm sorry.” I shift, turning to face her. “I'm just tired and my shoulder's been hurting me."
"Well, c'mere. I can fix that.” She rolls me onto my stomach, seating herself on top of me while she begins massaging my back with her fingers. “Your muscles are so tense, babe. I know this streak is driving you crazy, but you gotta try and relax."
"Ah!” I wince, when she squeezes my shoulder.
"Is that where you got hit?” She stops what she’s doing, peering down, her hair gliding across my back. “Oh wow, look at it. It's all black and blue."
"I'll survive,” I mumble with my face in the pillow.
"Hold on,” she says, sliding off me. “Let me get some ice."
"I like when you take care of me, you know,” I respond, watching her hastily cover her naked body with my shirt.
"I know." She winks at me, before ducking out to the kitchen.
I close my eyes and try not to think about the pain. I’ve been hit plenty of times, but I’ve never had anyone around to baby me and patch me up. And I kinda like it.
I don’t even hear Carrie tiptoe back in when an icy jolt touches my skin.
"There…how does that feel?" she whispers, when I rock the bed a bit when she places it on my shoulder.
"Cold,” I mutter.
"Ha, ha, very funny,” Carrie teases, dabbing me with the handful of ice she has wrapped in a towel.
I tilt my head to the side, watching her. "I'd rather have you kiss it and make it better."
"Does that really work?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow at me.
"Your lips are magic, Care Bear,” I reply, enjoying how easily I can make her blush.
"You've been awfully quiet,” Carrie says, lying next to me in my childhood bed."I'm sorry.” I shift, turning to face her. “I'm just tired and my shoulder's been hurting me."
"Well, c'mere. I can fix that.” She rolls me onto my stomach, seating herself on top of me while she begins massaging my back with her fingers. “Your muscles are so tense, babe. I know this streak is driving you crazy, but you gotta try and relax."
"Ah!” I wince, when she squeezes my shoulder.
"Is that where you got hit?” She stops what she’s doing, peering down, her hair gliding across my back. “Oh wow, look at it. It's all black and blue."
"I'll survive,” I mumble with my face in the pillow.
"Hold on,” she says, sliding off me. “Let me get some ice."
"I like when you take care of me, you know,” I respond, watching her hastily cover her naked body with my shirt.
"I know." She winks at me, before ducking out to the kitchen.
I close my eyes and try not to think about the pain. I’ve been hit plenty of times, but I’ve never had anyone around to baby me and patch me up. And I kinda like it.
I don’t even hear Carrie tiptoe back in when an icy jolt touches my skin.
"There…how does that feel?" she whispers, when I rock the bed a bit when she places it on my shoulder.
"Cold,” I mutter.
"Ha, ha, very funny,” Carrie teases, dabbing me with the handful of ice she has wrapped in a towel.
I tilt my head to the side, watching her. "I'd rather have you kiss it and make it better."
"Does that really work?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow at me.
"Your lips are magic, Care Bear,” I reply, enjoying how easily I can make her blush.
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Collette West grew up as somewhat of a jock-nerd hybrid. Entering the world three weeks premature, her dad nearly missed her birth because he had seats behind the dugout for a sold-out, highly-anticipated match-up between two of baseball's biggest rivals. Not to be outdone, her book-loving mom taught her how to read by the time she was three. A love of the game coupled with an appreciation for the written word were instilled in Collette's impressionable brain from a young age. No wonder her characters believe in the philosophy: sports + romance = a little slice of heaven.
Splitting her time between the Pocono Mountains and Manhattan, Collette indulges her inner fangirl by going to as many games as she can from hockey to baseball and downloading every sports romance novel in existence onto her iPad. When she's not clicking away on her laptop, she enjoys walking her dog in Central Park, satisfying her caffeine craving at the Starbucks on Broadway and keeping an eye out for Mr. Right. But above all, she loves dishing with her readers.
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