Kyrie Kent hates baseball. She hates players even more. When her best friend drags her to a Ravens game, she spends the innings reading a book… Until she gets a glimpse of the closer—a pitcher who draws her like magnet. Fighting her attraction to Easton Holliday is easy. All she has to do is keep her distance, avoid the ballpark, and keep her head down. At least, all that would have worked, but Easton doesn’t intend to let Kyrie walk so easily. When another player vies for Kyrie’s attention, Easton will swing for the fences. But will Kyrie strike him out or let him steal home?
Full disclosure: This is an erotic romance full of hot guys in tight baseball pants, even more guys in tight baseball pants who know how to swing a big stick, and explicit sex.
Release date March 17th
“So no actual p in v then?”
“No, just f in v.” I wiggled my fingers.
“I got t in v.” She stuck her tongue out at me.
“You win.” I shook my head and caught a glimpse of my phone on the nightstand. The notification light was blinking.
I picked it up and swiped across the screen. There were four messages—all from a strange number.
5:30 a.m. Hi Kyrie. It’s Easton. I just wanted to say what a great time I had with you last night. Hope we can do it again soon.
5:32 a.m. I don’t mean do the awkward thing with walking in on my sister again soon. I meant the dinner and the stuff after.
5:34 a.m. I mean, we don’t have to do the things we did after dinner again, if you don’t want to. I just want to spend time with you. But if you wanted to do those things, I’d love to do them.
5:38 a.m. I’m sorry for all the messages except maybe the first one. Please call or text anytime. I have practice til noon, but then I’m available anytime. Talk to you soon.
“You own that D.” Nikki had been reading over my shoulder. She squealed and fell back, kicking her feet in the air.
“I don’t own a D.” I put my phone down and stared at it as if it were poisonous. “How did he get my number?”
Nikki stopped kicking and sat up next to me, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “It’s a mystery.”
“What? Why do you always think it’s me?” She shrugged.
“Because it always is you.” I pinned her with a scowl.
She puffed her lips into a pout. “You aren’t going to text him back?”
“No. I need to slow things down.” I wanted to text him, call him, jump in my car and go watch him practice in those tight pants. But I wasn’t about to rush into anything. Stopping and thinking would be the key to keeping my heart safe.
“Slow down? No. You need to text him.” She tried to grab for my phone.
I smacked her hand away. “Give me a minute okay? I said I’d think about seeing him. I just need some time.”
She leaned back and stared at me, her brown eyes searching my face. “You promise you’ll give him a chance?”
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I’m going to say.” I stood and went to my dresser before dressing in a t-shirt and yoga pants. “Want to go eat big bowls of cereal and watch mind-numbing TV?”
“You know me so well.” Nikki rose and flounced past, giving me a playful slap on the ass as she went.
I stared at myself in the dresser mirror. Despite what I’d told Nikki, I couldn’t decide if I really wanted to give Easton a chance. I didn’t know if I could handle another heartbreak, especially when I already knew what it was like chasing after a man who ate, slept, and dreamed baseball. Would Easton be any different?
Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.
Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.
Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.