Perfect Game
Publication Date: March 13, 2015
Amazon • Nook • Kobo • iBooks • Smashwords
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.
Excerpt:
“Would you like anything to drink,
miss?” the flight attendant asks as I recline back in my seat to get
comfortable for the late-night flight on the Kings’ charter jet.
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine,” I reply, closing my eyes.
But they pop back open when I feel someone plop down next to me.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid Brooks Davison spilled his cup of coffee all over my seat while I was in the restroom. I’m telling ya, that guy never has enough arm room for that mighty wingspan of his. Would it be all right if I sat here instead?”
“Certainly, Mr. Harper," the flight attendant says, smiling at him.
“Thank you, darlin’. I really do appreciate it.”
He is unbelievable.
“I’ll check back to see if you need anything in a bit.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Scott’s not even looking at her; he’s looking right at me, and I feel all tingly when he says, “I’m good now.”
“Very well,” the flight attendant simpers, making her way down the aisle.
I close my eyes again. “You spilled that coffee, didn’t you?”
“Now Care Bear, don’t go accusing me of things I didn’t even do.”
“Brooks is a big guy, but he’s agile. He’s no klutz.”
“Accidents happen.”
“Bullshit.”
“You just happen to be sitting next to the only empty seat on the plane.” He nudges my arm off the armrest, nestling himself firmly into the seat cushion. “What do you expect me to do? Stand for the whole flight?”
“Funny, I thought you’d wanna add another member to your Mile High Club.” I taunt him, pissed that he’s all stretched out and relaxed while every nerve in my body is on fire from being this close to him. “That flight attendant sure seemed ready to accommodate your needs.”
“I told you. I don’t f*** other women when I’m after the one I want.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I’m faithful like that.”
“So, if I never sleep with you again, you’ll remain celibate for the rest of your natural-born life?” I turn my head to face him, my mouth inches from his.
“You’ll sleep with me,” he responds, his voice dripping with confidence.
“Tell me. How long would you wait for me, Harper? A month? A year? Five years? A decade?”
“Go on and tease me all you want. You’re just blowing off steam, trying to relieve some of the pent-up sexual tension you’re feeling, knowing you’re gonna have to sit next to me for the next hour without being able to touch me.”
“I can touch you,” I reply, getting mad and poking him in the ribs. “There. How does that feel?”
“F***in’ amazing,” he groans, reaching over. “How does this feel?” he asks, cupping my face in his hand and lightly running his thumb across my cheekbone.
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine,” I reply, closing my eyes.
But they pop back open when I feel someone plop down next to me.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid Brooks Davison spilled his cup of coffee all over my seat while I was in the restroom. I’m telling ya, that guy never has enough arm room for that mighty wingspan of his. Would it be all right if I sat here instead?”
“Certainly, Mr. Harper," the flight attendant says, smiling at him.
“Thank you, darlin’. I really do appreciate it.”
He is unbelievable.
“I’ll check back to see if you need anything in a bit.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Scott’s not even looking at her; he’s looking right at me, and I feel all tingly when he says, “I’m good now.”
“Very well,” the flight attendant simpers, making her way down the aisle.
I close my eyes again. “You spilled that coffee, didn’t you?”
“Now Care Bear, don’t go accusing me of things I didn’t even do.”
“Brooks is a big guy, but he’s agile. He’s no klutz.”
“Accidents happen.”
“Bullshit.”
“You just happen to be sitting next to the only empty seat on the plane.” He nudges my arm off the armrest, nestling himself firmly into the seat cushion. “What do you expect me to do? Stand for the whole flight?”
“Funny, I thought you’d wanna add another member to your Mile High Club.” I taunt him, pissed that he’s all stretched out and relaxed while every nerve in my body is on fire from being this close to him. “That flight attendant sure seemed ready to accommodate your needs.”
“I told you. I don’t f*** other women when I’m after the one I want.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I’m faithful like that.”
“So, if I never sleep with you again, you’ll remain celibate for the rest of your natural-born life?” I turn my head to face him, my mouth inches from his.
“You’ll sleep with me,” he responds, his voice dripping with confidence.
“Tell me. How long would you wait for me, Harper? A month? A year? Five years? A decade?”
“Go on and tease me all you want. You’re just blowing off steam, trying to relieve some of the pent-up sexual tension you’re feeling, knowing you’re gonna have to sit next to me for the next hour without being able to touch me.”
“I can touch you,” I reply, getting mad and poking him in the ribs. “There. How does that feel?”
“F***in’ amazing,” he groans, reaching over. “How does this feel?” he asks, cupping my face in his hand and lightly running his thumb across my cheekbone.
About Collette West
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. Email her at collette_west@yahoo.com. She is the author of NIGHT GAMES and GAME CHANGER.
No comments:
Post a Comment